Forced Lesbian Submission Books 1-10

by Adrian Amos

  “What drives men to us is our call,” she says, “A call designed to arouse sexual desire. Men are victims to sexual desire all the time; women only to the most powerful of sources.”

  Her words almost numb me from their influence and immediately cause me to heat up.

  “You will do what we want. Not out of choice, but out of desire,” Agla smirks, condescension rolling from her tongue. It is the first real emotion that comes from her, not something mimicking human connection.

  Molpe joins in the singing, which causes the sensation in me to build until I no longer feel like I control my actions. I reach for my shirt and pull it open, ripping the buttons straight from the fabric, exploding them across the beach. My small tits are exposed to the cool ocean air, while my nipples are already burdened by their excitement. I grab my tits and massage them, twisting my nipples in my fingers.

  This elicits a powerful moan from me, causing me to lift my ass from the sand. I reach down my pants and feel for my soaking pussy. I immediately slip a finger in, the juice in me warm and inviting.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” I whimper. I feel a sexual desire I've never felt before, an urge to fuck everything in my path.

  I pull down my pants to my ankles and spread my thighs, opening my pussy with my fingers as I continue to tweak my nipples.

  “You have no choice,” Agla whispers. She and Molpe begin to caress my skin, feeling my body as I insert my fingers into myself. They run their hands over my tits, down my stomach, and along my thighs, exploring me like the object of desire I am to them.

  Molpe reaches down, moving my hand, and places her own along my lower lips. She slides her fingers up and down my pussy, gathering my taste and bringing it to her mouth. She sucks on her fingers, enjoying what she took from me.

  I feel my pussy soak some more, responding to the women controlling me.

  “Salty,” she says, “She tastes like the sea.”

  “Truly?” Agla says. She shakes her head as she doubts her sister, “That seems too good to be true.”

  Agla bends down below me, sticking her tongue against my moistened slit. She runs it between my folds, lapping me with her briny tongue. “You're right!” she declares, “Her body is part of the sea. I see why men desire it.”

  The thought of men desiring me is a strange one. I've never thought of myself as a desirable woman. I'm too small―my frame and breasts are tiny―and young―barely a woman―where my body feels unsuitable for children.

  “Remove that cloth,” she says, pointing to my pants. Molpe does and they spread my thighs wide. Each sister takes one of my legs and lifts it up in the air. They begin to lick down each thigh, tasting my juices that had spilled down me, gushing from my sensitive body. They suck on me with passion, absorbing my arousal through their lips. Each one then takes turns lapping at my conquered pussy, tasting everything that comes from me.

  “Look sister,” Molpe says, “If you pull on these―“ She takes a nipple in her fingers and pinches it, pulling it out from my body. I grunt loudly, laying my head back to gasp. “―it makes more salt come from below.”

  “Ah, I see. Ours would probably do the same if we had vaginas.”

  “You don't have a vagina?” I ask, curiosity strong enough to overcome my breathlessness.

  “We are born of magic,” Molpe says, “We do not have sexual organs, but we do have desire. Men cannot truly fulfill it, since we do not have vaginas and cannot be penetrated.”

  She pauses for a moment and looks at her sister, “But we can penetrate, and women offer a number of holes to fill.”

  Agla thinks about it as well, and then nods, smiling. They pull away from me and immediately furrow their brows in concentration. As they do, their tails begin to change, shifting and morphing, splitting into countless parts. It does not look painful, just laborious.

  I sit up and watch the transformation. Truly magical, like everything else about them, they finish their body change and float effortlessly back down.

  Instead of tails, they now have tentacles, dozens of them.

  Guessing from my quizzical look, Agla explains, “We are princesses of the sea and can take many forms of the creatures that reside there.”

  “We need to be thorough in our exploration,” Molpe says, “So we need to make sure we get into everything. We may not get another chance.”

  The sisters swarm me, their tentacles wrapping around my arms and legs, lifting me into the air without as much as a grunt. They cover my body in their slimy grips, spinning me as they examine me from top to bottom.

  “Women are certainly beautiful,” Alga says, “And their sex tastes like the sea. What else do men like about them?”

  “Well,” Molpe responds, “She seem to like to touch herself on the nipples and her sexual area. Something must be special about them.”

  She whips two tentacles up and over my body, circling them gently around my nipples. I sigh, the soft wetness reminding me of a tongue. As my body responds, Molpe squeezes her tentacles, pinching my nipples hard and drawing them out again.

  I feel other tentacles climb up my legs and rest between my pussy lips. They run up and down, mixing their moisture with my own, pressing up against my clit. And after a few passes, they push in, penetrating me with their fishy appendages.

  They fuck me, pushing me up towards a climax, ramping my desire up on the beach where so many men lost their lives. So many good men were struck upon the rocks, only for me to escape to be raped on the beach by sirens.

  More tentacles reach up toward my face, playing with my lips, trying to enter my mouth. I squirm, not wanting to taste something so gross.

  “Wait,” I say, pulling my head to the side, “You shouldn't explore there with your tentacles.” I want to avoid it completely.

  “We must explore. That is what interests us,” Agla says.

  I need to change that. “Explore my mouth with your own.”

  “With my mouth?” she asks.

  “Yes, that is how humans do it. Stick your tongue into my mouth―kind of like your tentacle―and move it around to explore.”

  She pulls up close to me, and without prompting or delicacy, plants her soft lips on mine. Her tongue enters my mouth, darting from side to side, unsure of what to do.

  I pull my head back. “No, you need to explore slowly. Search for everything.”

  Back in, she moves her tongue much slower, still aimlessly, until I get my tongue around hers. I twirl hers and she responds by doing the same. Her mouth tastes sweet, not salty as one would expect from an underwater woman. Her smell is fresh and unusually fruity, like peaches. It might be a perfume she took from a ship.

  But as she distracts me, my tongue playing with hers and Molpe playing with my nipples and fucking my pussy, I feel pressure around my ass.

  I struggle, knowing what's about to happen. “No,” I shout, “Not in there!” I reach my hands back and pull at the tentacles that are trying to enter my ass. In the grapple contest, I slip from their grasps and fall to my feet on the ground.

  “Penelope,” Agla says, agitated, “Please stop. Please do not meddle in our work. You have stopped us once already. Not again.” A couple of tentacles wrap around my wrists, constricting them tightly together. They then lift up, pulling my arms directly over my head, holding me in position.

  The tentacles begin to dance around my ass, but are unable to enter since I'm standing straight up, clenching my cheeks and preventing them from slipping in.

  “Sister, I think we need to lift her up again so that her hole opens up.”

  Agla grabs my legs and lifts them up into the air, bending them at the knees. With my hands tied together straight up, and my legs spread out in front of me, I'm in a floating seated position, and I can't do anything against what's about to happen.

  My ass is bare, and the tentacles slide up in it without any resistance, their slimy exterior providing the perfect lube. I grunt, the inch thick tentacle spreading me open. The pain runs through me as t
he appendage explores my anal cavity, slapping around inside.

  The pain soon turns to a hint of pleasure, the fullness increasing in intensity as my ass relaxes and takes in more of the arm.

  I moan, and the sisters laugh. “Another hole that creates pleasure. Who would have known?”

  I blush, embarrassed that I continue to enjoy my ravishment, even enjoying being penetrated in ways I've never been penetrated. No one has ever attempted to fuck me in the ass, but these sirens are not human, and they only care to push my boundaries in adventure.

  But I can't help it. They're beautiful; they're musical; they're magical. They can sing and arouse me so much that I tear my clothes off, and they have a ton of dicks to fuck me with. There is no way I can compete against that sort of power.

  Like they said, I have no choice. All I can do is enjoy it. Enjoy being fondled; enjoy being fucked in the ass; enjoy being raped by monstrous women.

  So I decide to give in.

  “Yes, I'm sensitive everywhere. Please,” I beg, “Stick your tentacles in me and explore everywhere.”

  They nod and tentacles drape me, grazing my body and squeezing my nipples. Three enter my pussy, swirling inside me in different directions, stimulating all my walls at once. Two enter my ass, stretching me wide, pulsing in a rhythm that pulls against my clenched anus. I take one in the mouth, sucking on it, its flavor no longer a concern as my body is too distracted to focus on any one thing.

  Agla begins to sing quietly in my ear. The melody relaxes my body and I loosen; any pain I felt is gone, replaced by tranquility. Another tentacle enters my ass and I take it in easily, no more difficult than the ones in my pussy.

  I'm being used and penetrated from everywhere.

  “Thrust,” I call out, “Thrust into me.”

  They push their tentacles in and out, rocking my body from every direction, triple penetrating me while restraining me with another dozen tentacles. I'm helpless and bound, getting fucked on the beach. I'm so enthralled, I can barely remember my name or what I'm doing here.

  I spit the tentacle out and turn toward Agla. I dip my head in and take her mouth, pushing my tongue in and halting her singing.

  I hear for the first time a slight moan come from her, and in an instant it blows through me, igniting my insides. Her desire is magical, and as it emanates from her, it provokes my body to orgasm, convulsing me and forcing me to squeeze onto all the tentacles inside me. I grab with my pussy and my ass, holding onto both sirens as they hold onto me.

  I moan into Agla's mouth, my tongue still playing with hers. She moans again in response to me and I immediately orgasm from her muffled voice. I seize, my body pulsating with the still thrusting dicks, sensitive from such rapid orgasms.

  I pull off of Agla's mouth to avoid another repeat. As my second orgasm dies down, I breathe heavily, unable to move even if I wasn't tied up.

  “What happened sister?” Molpe asks, “Why did you make that sound? That sound that she makes?”

  “I think I felt true desire, straight from Penelope's mouth as her sexual energy was consumed.”

  “What did that feel like?”

  “I'm not sure exactly how to explain it,” Agla concedes, “But I think this is the best treasure we've ever found.”

  * * *

  The patrons are loud and boisterous, wielding clanging mugs and off-color banter equally.

  But even in the din, I can hear their call clearly, beckoning me back to the island, desiring my presence. The words are unclear, but the sound is angelic: a dim hum, like a mother cooing a baby. Out in this world where chaos abides, the constant murmur relaxes, easing and placating any and all sorrows. Herculean tasks become mere inconveniences in the company of unremitting reassurance.

  Their residing in me makes my tensions melt, and my conscience fades away, which is necessary for my duties to them.

  "You are good and drunk off my coin now, gentleman," I say, scratching at my false beard. "Do we have a deal?"

  "If we're traveling to the same location," the captain replies, "Why is it we need to change our normal course?"

  "Sir, I have traveled the Mediterranean countless times. I found that this new course is the quickest way to our destination. It should save us 2 to 3 days, which means a speedy arrival for me and faster trade for you."

  I spill out a bag of coins, acquired from the siren treasures. The captain's interest is tangible. "You will receive a hefty payment," I continue, "Plus, knowledge of the new seafaring route will bring you more money in the future at your discretion. A fool would pass this up."

  It doesn't take the captain long to realize the logic of the statement, even if the statement itself is mendacious.

  "True," he says, extending his hand, "I am no fool."

  I shake his hand and excuse myself to my room at the inn. I leave the captain and his men to drink and take their fill, regaling their fortune at the generosity of a mystery merchant. Buying their entertainment is the least I can do.

  For in the next few days, I will carry them to the siren mass grave.

  All lives lost for trinkets.

  But as I lie down in bed, my hand travels down my pants and caresses my moist clit. The siren call is an aphrodisiac: in my ear forever to remind me of their conquest over me, the slightest words feeding me pleasure and whetting my body. They push me to listen as they whisper eroticisms into my ear, forcing me every night to seek my bed and touch myself.

  I push my fingers into me, feeling the warmth and wetness slide down my hand.

  I am always aroused. It is unbearable, and I need more relief than my fingers. I need their touch on my body.

  The only relief is simple. The destination I've been looking for all along.

  I will always seek to return to the island, no matter the cost.

  - - -

  Conquered by the Ghost

  “She's probably rolling in her grave.”

  “You really think so?” Meg asks, looking at me through the rear-view mirror.

  “Absolutely,” I say, “My cousin hated me. I don't know why, I never did anything to Annie, but she fucking hated my guts.”

  “You really have no idea why? How do you know she hated you, Lacy?” Rachel chimed in from the passenger-side.

  “Just the looks she always gave me. It was like she always disapproved of my lifestyle or something.”

  I don't know why. I mean, I wasn't a model student: I barely passed my classes. And yeah, I was kind of known for being a little loose with the guys, but who does that hurt exactly? Not Annie. It's not like I stole her boyfriend or anything. We never went to the same school or even lived near each other, but anytime I talked about my sex life, she got this look on her face, like I was disgusting. It was weird coming from such a pretty, petite girl. I was being looked down upon by someone who looked like a little girl compared to my more womanly looks.

  Meg laughs, “So I guess you're glad she's dead!”

  “Damn, Meg,” Rachel guffaws, “You're a bitch.”

  Meg shrugs and I just nod. I'm not really sure what to think about it. Her death was sudden. At 22, the same age as me, she fell down the stairs at her home and broke her neck. The police didn't know if it was an accident or suicide or murder. There seemed to be signs of foul play, but they didn't quite add up when put up against the fact that she was the only one living there. There was no sign anyone else was there, but the way she fell seemed to indicate she was pushed. But no one really knows.

  “Like I said, she might be rolling in her grave if she knew that I was going to be the first one to live at her house.”

  “How does someone so young have a mansion to her name?” Rachel asks.

  My two best friends, Rachel and Meg, decided to tag along when they found out I was going to be staying up near Boston for the summer at a family mansion. They really had no idea whose it was or why it was available, but party girls stick together and these two liked it wild.

  Meg is a redhead known for being the life o
f the group, always setting us up for some crazy shit. You know she was the one who wanted this to go down, hoping we'd turn this into a bachlorette pad for the summer. As she says, she wants the stink stuck to the walls.

  Rachel, on the other hand, is a cool brunette, never as fidgety or overpowering as Meg. She's the rational, smart chick, who keeps us in check when we are trying to set buildings on fire or sleep with whole fraternities.

  On campus, my black hair and more moderate personality sets us up as the college girl A-team. All the guys try to get with us because we're three vastly different, but beautiful, girls. I don't know how many times people have tried to have a threesome or foursome with us, like trying to get earth, wind, and fire together. Unfortunately for them, that's not our style. We may look it, but we're not really that slutty.

  “Short story. Well, she inherited it from her parents, who died a couple years ago. Then she up and dies. It then gets passed down to her aunt—which is my aunt as well. My aunt isn't planning on moving over here anytime soon, so I just asked if I could crash there for a while, and she said I could take as long as I want.”

  “That's pretty cool,” Meg says, “but damn, her family is all dead?”

  “Yeah, my family kind of sees them as cursed. But that ain't stopping me from enjoying this awesome house,” I say, gesticulating out the window for my friends. They look out and admire the old 19th century home. It has dark molding, unkempt grass, and parasitic vines nestled in its nooks. It gloomily sits up on a hill down a long cobble stone driveway. Even though it's only been vacant for about a month, it looks like no one's lived there in a hundred years.

  As we pull up to the house, I wrestle the key my aunt gave me from my knapsack. When I open the door, I feel a gust of stale air pass over us.

  “Definitely have to turn the A/C on, get the air circulating again,” Rachel says.

  I look around but am drawn to the stairwell where my cousin died. I expect to see a mess, a catastrophe of gruesome imagery, but there is nothing. The paintings are still on the walls and the carpet isn't stained in any way. It makes sense: she just broke her neck. It's not like she was gutted and bled out on the floor.