“You’re sorry, little one? Do you even begin to comprehend the loss? You are a vapid, empty shell, a product of a befouled society, and you pretend to understand what has happened today? You are their queen, and this is all you can come up with, a meek apology?”
The barrage of words hit Amelia hard, but gradually phased out as the anger of the creature holding her against the table increased, choking her in its iron grip. Tears began to flow again, her nails tearing at the strong hand holding her down, her legs spasming, mouth agape in the struggle to breathe. With eyes wide and cheeks burning, she let out a tortured sound, sending a desperate look up at her near-snarling captor.
Soraya’s teeth were showing, her breathing heavy as she pressed the human down against the table. Anger was not something she let herself be swept up by often, but every encounter with the humans had brought it up in her more fiercely than the last. It was as if they flowed through life and the world, desperate not to notice everything that happened around them. There was opportunity here, though. This pathetic little thing was not yet beyond influence, and she was also their ruler. She could be molded.
Amelia coughed violently as the commander eased her grip, rolling off the table and onto the ground, holding herself halfway off the ground with shaking arms. Strands of thick drool dripped from Amelia’s parted lips, the fog of panic slowly dissipating from her mind and eyes as she gasped for air. She raised one hand, rubbing her rapidly reddening neck as she turned her head to look fearfully up at the feral, domineering warrior standing over her.
The elf got down on one knee, still towering over the prone woman even then, reaching out, fingers unfurling as she neared Amelia’s face. The queen withdrew, acting more like an injured, downed animal than a person, her breath stuck in her throat as her face was lifted, turned and examined by the powerful being over her. Soraya’s eyes were neutral with just a hint of hunger as she watched the girl’s timid reactions to being inspected, unable to hold back lopsided, wry smile. “Don’t worry, little one. You are not beyond redemption. I can teach you. I -will- teach you.”
Her breath came in quick bursts through her nose, the momentary peace and quiet allowing Amelia to feel the almost painful, worrying clump in her chest as her head was turned, her worth, apparently, appraised. She did not dare move a muscle but those that were directed, looking anxiously up into the deep, bottomless gaze of the elf’s amber eyes, trying to find a hint of her salvation or damnation. The fingers around her chin were slowly moved down, pressing against her collarbone, pushing her backwards. She obeyed, her heart pounding as she reclined gradually, what else could she do but lie on her back and accept this mighty creature?
Soraya lifted one leg over Amelia’s prone form, planting her knee firmly next to the girl’s chest, now effectively straddling the girl. She lowered herself, resting on top of the queen’s flat, corseted stomach, her hands trailing up along Amelia’s sides slowly, as if she was taking in and memorizing the feeling of the girl’s form. The elf’s strong hands moved higher, the back of her fingers dragging gently over her apprehensive, tense prey’s arms, finally pushing her shoulders down against the muddied carpet. The commander leaned over the girl, looking down at her.
“It’s been my experience that humans need to be limited to appreciate the whole. I’m going to limit you, little one.”
Amelia’s breath was stuck in her throat as she tried to understand her situation. The moment the massive elf sat on her, her view of her position had changed. She had thought she was dealing with a noble savage, but the creature’s words and actions had taken on another dimension when she first felt the warmth and weight that spilled from the commander’s crotch, resting against her small frame like the insistent distraction it very much was. The deer-like eyes had returned, her head raised slightly from the ground as she shifted uncomfortably. It was pointless to struggle, now, but she desperately wanted to.
The elven commander held her down with ease, but with enough strength and weight that it was abundantly clear who was in control. For more than ten seconds, Amelia squirmed, high-pitched, almost nonexistent whines accompanying her writhing half-attempts at getting out from under the large sylph. Eventually, her shifting and turning stopped and she merely laid there, her back arched off the ground slightly, her breathing audible between parted lips. She looked up at her captor’s intense gaze, whispering quietly. “Please...”
“Shari’fal!” Another elf broke through into the tent, shattering the concentrated atmosphere between the two forms on the ground. The commander remained still, her eyes still fixated on the pinned woman beneath her as she replied calmly in the same foreign, lilting tongue. “An. Talah Ri.”
The foreign elf nodded, and then exited the tent again. Amelia’s insides churned. In the heat of the moment, she had almost forgotten that there were many more than the single elf in the command tent. Thousands more. She knew what the soldiers of conquering armies passed their time with well enough, and if they were all like the champion sat on top of her-- Her head jerked to the side, her eyes reflexively closing as Soraya’s hand smacked against her cheek.
“Your attention’s on me, little one. Always.” She did not seem angry. Mildly annoyed, perhaps, but she treated the act of physically disciplining a queen as the most natural thing in the world, a necessary but minor evil.
Amelia’s rapidly reddening cheek brought some measure of her former sensibilities back to her. The rush of blood to the cheek cleared her head of the fog of submission that had clouded her judgment so far, and she started to turn from side to side again. With the massive, powerful elf planted firmly on top of her, her movements were limited, though.
“Your life doesn’t even happen in your dreams, little one. The you that once was is so deeply buried that you’ve forgotten even your dreams. You’re barely aware of your real wants and needs, little doe. But I can change that. I -will- change that.”
Before she had even finished the last words, the bulky elf had drawn a small blade from a sheath on her thigh. Amelia could not see through the creature yet, but had so far not detected any real malice from her. A warped, extreme arrogance perhaps, but no trace of hate. Even then, she felt the same all-encompassing, slowly sinking feeling she had felt before the commander had entered the tent. A sense of mortality and inevitability, as if she was speeding towards her death and could do nothing but look it in the eye, paralyzed and unable to do anything, even scream.
She watched the needle point of the weapon descend towards her collarbone, her body and arms tensing, teeth gritting, a warm, tumultuous flow of indiscernible thoughts raging through her head. If other people saw their life flash before their eyes as they faced death, she was to be disappointed.
All she felt was a light tug, a small snap and the rush of air against her skin, another tug, another snap. She dared to open one eye, glancing down. The elf was slowly, meticulously slicing the front of her dress open and baring her to the world, and once the champion had opened it as far as she could while sitting on the girl’s stomach, she started on the strong lace that held the corset in place. Amelia let her head fall back against the carpet, letting her breath out in relieved bursts that almost resembled laughing.
She was unable to hold back a happy, dimpling smile as the oppressive fear for her life left her, the constricting tightness of the corset being relieved contributing to her feeling of partial weightlessness. It only took a few, short moments before the rush of bliss faded away, though, her attention returned to the elf’s work. She was laid increasingly bare, her pale breasts already exposed to the warm interior of the tent. She could feel the elf working lower, carving lace just over the inexplicable, almost corporeal sense of anxious, perverse desire that had settled between her ribs.
Amelia knew what was going to happen. She had known it since the elf had first sat on her stomach, but she had not had time to vividly imagine it, to let the realization settle in. Now, as she observed the impressively sculpted elf, it dawned on her. Her ch
eeks flushed and though she knew she should be screaming and fighting for her life, the power and superiority that this huntress exuded had battered right through her usual reservations and demands. It not only felt strangely natural to be handled by Soraya as she wished, it made the secret lust for victimhood well up in her.
Even so, she lifted her hands, one meekly laying against the large elf’s firm stomach, the queen treated to her first sense of the commander’s powerful build as her fingers pressed against hard, slightly bulging muscle. She shivered, the fingers of her other hand wrapping carefully around the warrior’s wrist to stop her cutting the corset loose.
Soraya halted, refraining from physically disciplining her prey this time. Instead, she looked over the girl’s form, pressing her tongue out the corner of her mouth to run it partway over her lips. Amelia’s chest rose and fell with her heightened breathing, each snap for air pushing up and emphasizing her slightly flattened, perfectly proportioned breasts. Soraya ran her free hand slowly up the girl’s side, her touch starting so light it was almost ethereal, growing firmer as she went.
Trailing torturously slowly up to Amelia’s chest, the elf’s large, strong hand moved over and then below the queen’s curving breast, cupping it. Amelia was generously proportioned; easily more than a handful for a human male. For the massive, imposing elf, she was the perfect fit. The girl’s fingers twitched lightly, a low, nervous gasp escaping her as Soraya’s hand let go, her knuckles and the back of her hand caressing up over the perked, pink nipple crowning Amelia’s breast.
“This is going to happen, little one. We will connect.”
The elf’s words at once calmed and stirred Amelia to action. She had feared that she was to be tossed around from soldier to soldier, but the commander’s words implied nothing such. They did imply that she was going to be taken, though, whether she wanted it or not. She remained unsure, low-burning desire muddying the feelings she felt should be burning at the prospect of being ridden by this hugely-proportioned creature.
Amelia swallowed, feeling the warrior’s hand gently but insistently push hers away from the hand holding the knife. She complied hesitantly, only to have the arm lead behind her back. A surge of warmth went through her, coloring her cheeks in very clearly as her other hand was lead away from the elf’s midriff and joined with the first behind her back. There were no physical restraints other than the domineering, almost imperial feral elf’s presence, and it seemed more than enough. For the moment, at least.
She glanced down, seeing the knife creep lower, exposing her bellybutton. She squirmed, shifting slightly only to feel the weight of the elf’s huge, still concealed shaft shift with her. It had rested against her since Soraya had first kneeled over her, and it had driven her half mad with lust and anxiety. There was no doubt, the wild elf was massive in all senses of the word, even considering her inhumanly large frame, and Amelia questioned if her body could take fulfilling the promise that fat dick gave every second its hefty weight rested against her.
“Stay.” The commander’s voice was demanding, one used to being obeyed, and Amelia found herself doing as she was told. Even though her mind raced, trying to push her past the weakness the powerful creature had induced into her, trying to make her get up and run, she stayed. Soraya raised herself up over the human, tossing the dagger carelessly to the side only to reach down, both hands fastening around Amelia’s dress and the last remnant of her corset, tearing both apart, leaving them as unconventional blankets beneath the naked, petite girl’s form.
Amelia remained in the position she had been put in, her arms behind her back even as she wrung her hands, her toes curling as her pale and hairless form was exposed. With eyes wide and breath coming rapidly through her nose, she looked up at her captor, observing as the huntress finally pushed her hands to the straining buttons holding her dark, worn brown leather leggings in place.
She popped the first button open as she looked down at the mesmerized girl, smiling faintly to herself. She could not just be molded, she almost begged to be molded, to be remade as something more by someone who understood what she needed. Soraya opened another button, her leggings beginning to sag somewhat as the bulging strain was eased. Another button.
Amelia was spellbound, not even consciously noticing how much spit she had begun producing, how wide and hungry her eyes had become. Her lips parted, breath sucked in through her teeth as the last button was undone and the elf pushed her leggings down before leaning forward, that massive, thick shaft spilling out and landing heavily against Amelia’s taut stomach. She gasped shakily, raising her chin towards Soraya as the huntress leaned forward, supporting herself on her elbows as she looked down into the cowed human’s watery eyes.
“I will set you free, little one. Make you see through the restrictions you need to see the true beauty of life and nature now.”
She nodded, half afraid that it would encourage the elf, half afraid it would not. She could not comprehend what she was told, even if she understood the words. She let them wash over her instead, responding with intermittent, almost inaudible whines as she felt the huntress reposition herself, those strong thighs pushing between her legs, making room where there was none before. She opened Amelia effortlessly, though that huge length still rested against her stomach, the sheer, bulky shaft at once amazing and scaring her. It reached far up her belly, too far. She was sure it was too far.
Even so, the hardened, smooth beast warmed her to her very core, made her want to wrap her arms and legs around this strange creature and exist as one if only for a moment. She nodded again, meekly accepting her fate as the elf leaned down, planting a possessive kiss against her forehead. There came a point when prey accepted the huntress, and she had passed it long before mentally acknowledging it, but now, she burned and lusted after what was to come, even though her mind screamed no.
The elf pulled back from the gentle kiss, looking down at the girl for a long moment. Through the heavy, warm haze that had layered itself over Amelia’s mind, she began to glimpse understanding. She had lived a life at the top of society, with as few limits as anyone could have save those imposed on everyone by society. It had made her empty and detached, unconnected to the world and people around her. But now, she began to understand through the part of her that yearned to be free of this creature. There were so many things she had not appreciated, had taken for granted because they were easy and readily available. She closed her eyes, her chin sinking towards her collarbone in shame.
To her surprise, Soraya’s finger curled under her chin in a mild but insistent gesture, angling her head back up to look into the wild elf’s eyes, where she found something to hold on to, at least. The commander’s eyes were hard and demanding, but fair and strangely protective, too. She dared to cast a glance down between their two bodies, feeling a faint lump form in her throat as the first bead of precum rolled from the tip of the hefty shaft, eventually dripping down onto her skin in a long, thin strand. She felt her stomach constrict, once again looking up wide-eyed at the elf.
Soraya shifted downwards, her hands hooking under the queen’s shoulders and then moving upwards, moving to push up into the prone girl’s locks, fingers curling against the back of Amelia’s head, trapping hair between them.
She felt the pull, her breath catching in her throat as the conqueror’s grip solidified, the baiting, teasing nature of the game gone now that the bulky sylph’s huge, thick shaft began to press her apart. Amelia’s back arched, a whining mewl leaving her throat, her toes curling, her feet curving as she felt her cunt spread around this broad, hard invader, the grip of her hair tightening as she began to squirm, breathily whispering. “Nh--no, no...”
Soraya was heedless of the pain her size was putting the girl through, focusing her gaze on the writhing little human’s face as she slowly plowed forward and mercilessly pushed her beefy, immense shaft deeper, accompanied by heightening squeals and increasing struggle from the young woman below her. At last, Amelia’s hands emerged
from behind her back, fumbling slightly as she pressed them against the elf’s now exposed, muscled pelvis, her nails beginning to dig in as Soraya continued to feed dick into her small frame.
She felt so incredibly full, crammed with massive, hard dick to the point that the only thing she could think of was the huge cock, and the feeling of calm, inescapable strength from the commander’s forward-thrusting pelvic muscles.
“Ah!” Amelia let out a shriek as the massive creature locking her down against the muddy carpet reached as deep as it could go, the fat cockhead brushing uncomfortably up against her cervix. She followed up the shriek with a long, whining gasp as the elf continued for a while to push forward, mashing herself in as deeply and completely as she could, those hands in the girl’s hair by now the only thing that kept her on the ground, her back arched, her hands clawing and pushing at Soraya’s hips and thighs.
“Please, please stop, please.” Amelia thrashed, tears beginning to trail from her eyes. She felt all too clearly the elf’s warm, heavy breathing against her collarbone, trying to twist away from it, trying to twist away from the massive, thick shaft that filled her so completely that she felt certain there had to be a bulging outline of it on her lower stomach. Her feet had begun tingling and burning from being tense for so long, the girl’s toes beginning to tire. Her voice remained the same, though, letting out a low, pained cry as the elf withdrew just slightly, only to rock strongly, securely back in again.
The pace was slow, almost torturous, but it was there. She was being fucked, taken by this statuesque, feral creature, her mind wandering for just a split-second to a sweeter world where she could see herself and the noble savage rocking back and forth together, taking in the beauty of her petite form being conquered by the huntress. A jolt of pain tore her back to reality, Soraya hilting herself once again to the sound of a meek gasp.
Futanarium 1: An Erotic Short Story Bundle Page 2