“Ah. Ah! Nnnn! D-don’t… ah… I… mnnn!”
The tentacle stroking her cunt slipped inside her. She wailed in pleasure, the sound echoing in the undulating walls of flesh, cumming on the spot as her pussy clamped down on the intruder. Even as her orgasm washed through her the second tentacle drove inside her ass, slickened with its own juices and easily filling her firm bottom with its girth.
Two more latched onto her breasts, the tips engulfing her whorishly engorged nipples, sucking as if to steal the milk that would one day fill them. She bucked, writhed, consumed in the terrible pleasure.
“Ah. Yes. Yes! F-fuck! Nnnn! I… I… Aaaaaah!”
She screamed again, came again. And still the creature didn’t stop.
The humiliation and indignity was somehow enticing. To be trapped in such a creature, she, the empress of Istanov. The cusp of her victory lost in the belly of some horror. Mated and fucked into oblivion while her army celebrated its triumph, never knowing what happened to her. Never knowing she still writhed in the belly of the swamp beast, her mind fucked away.
She was losing her grip on her mind, she knew. She stood on the edge of madness, swaying among the winds of lusts, tempted to fall, fall into the bliss of darkness. Consumed by the creature forever, a slave to pleasures she could never imagine. Never again to worry. To fear. To have to lead or be depended on. Merely pleasured. Merely fucked.
She writhed in the pink stomach of the creature, pleasured by the limbs fucking her ass and cunt, slathering herself in the monster’s juices. Her hand tightened, and she realized she still held something.
Her sword.
Her eyes slid open, looked up. A red light gleamed at the hilt of her blade. The jewel of the lost kingdom burned like an amber flame. She blinked, staring at it, and for a moment, the pleasure which threatened to drown her fell away, leaving her mind clear.
And she pulled away from the abyss.
With a scream that echoed in the depths of the monster she brought down the blade. The edge sawed against the fleshy walls, black blood bursting on her. The tentacles within her shuddered in pain, the sensation nearly tearing another orgasm from her. She grabbed the sword in both hands and tore it down the monster’s stomach. The flesh walls around her shuddered as a roar of pain deafened her from all around. She hacked, furious now, the monster’s dark blood washing away the pleasuring juices. She attacked the monster who would entrap her, who would keep her, use her, tearing at its prison of flesh with a fury.
The world around her swayed and shifted. Her head swam, but she kept fighting, kept cutting, kept battling the terrible pleasure that still rippled through her.
A cry, weaker now, echoed around her. The world tumbled, shuddered, and suddenly was still.
Damera didn’t wonder. She kept on the attack. Her blade suddenly met no resistance. Light stabbed her eyes. With a moan, she pulled herself out of her fleshy prison, the tentacles in her cunt, ass and on her breasts sliding limply away.
She fell out of the morraf, splashing into the acrid waters of the swamp. She kneeled there, gasping, feeling the sickening fluids slough slowly off her in the brackish water, freeing her from that terrible sensitivity that had consumed her.
A growl made her freeze. She slowly raised her head.
Several orcs stood at the edge of the lake, their large hands filled with curving blades. Their massive green frames and fierce, tusked faces were etched against the misty swamp in dark bulks, but their red eyes seemed to glow as they stared down at her. Were they there at the Duke’s behest? Were they merely survivors of the battle at the keep?
It didn’t really matter, she realized dimly. They were here, and so was she. Unarmored, but not unarmed.
Damera slowly climbed to her feet. Goosebumps pricked down her naked flesh, the flush of pleasure meeting the chill of the swamp’s air. She raised her blade, her eyes narrowing fiercely.
“Well?” she gasped, gritting her teeth. “Come on then!”
One of the orcs grinned, his eyes running up and down her naked body. He stepped into the swamp waters.
The shrieking whinny of a horse cut through the dark. The orcs whirled as mounted men burst from the mist. The orcs bellowed, fleeing at once, racing away into the engulfing darkness of the swamp. Several riders peeled off, pursuing, the clash of arms and shouts of battle echoing back as the rest of the rest of the riders hurried towards Damera.
“Empress! Are you alright?”
Damera looked up into the face of Ser Raymond. She looked down at her naked body, damp with the morraf’s slime and its blood. She laughed weakly.
“Ser. We really must stop meeting like this.”
The knight smiled tightly but quickly returned his attention to her. “You’re not harmed, my lady?”
“Only my pride.” She grimaced, turning away. “The Duke of Ashes has escaped,” she said grimly.
Ser Raymond cursed softly. “Unfortunate, my lady.”
She dismissed it with a gesture. “Forget that. What of the battle? What happened?”
“We won, empress,” Ser Raymond said, dismounting. He quickly snatched a cloak from his saddlebag and passed it to her. “The monster horde was routed and destroyed. Your troops took heavy losses. Near half our men are dead or badly wounded, but we bested the beasts. They’ll not have the forces to muster in such numbers for a long time.”
Damera shivered and drew the cloak tight about her. “Good,” she said softly. “But the war is not over, I’m afraid. The Duke lives, and so long as he does, we are not done.”
“No,” Ser Raymond said. “But you have won a great victory, empress.”
“Yes,” Damera said, looking off and into the swamp, the coiling mist veiling the distance of the place. “Yes. We have…”
Epilogue
Aronosk burned in a glorious holocaust of flame.
“Please!” lord Ronois sobbed from on his knees. “Please! I beg of you! Stop this!”
The Red Witch laughed with contempt at the kneeling old man. They stood in the ruins of his manor, the burning city visible through the windows, its light flickering across the carpeted grand hall. “What do you think, Loriana? Would you like to stop?”
“Ooooh!” Loriana moaned, the mayor’s daughter bouncing on Ghostheart’s lap, her tattered garments fluttering around her like a shredded white flag of surrender, her eyes lidded, her lips parted as her brown pigtails swung with every impact on the orc’s cock, hilting the brutish male’s manhood within her. “Ooooh gods!” she wailed, tears of helpless pleasure cutting streaks through the smoke-stains on her cheeks. She arched, squealing as Ghostheart grasped her bouncing teats, groping and squeezing the full, flush orbs hungrily.
“Hm. Not much of an answer,” the Red Witch cackled. She lazily cocked her head. “Lady Ronois? What do you think?”
“Mmmm,” Millia Ronois moaned, her mouth occupied by the pregnant Mina’s cunt, the orcish broodmother’s legs wrapped around the noblewoman’s head, pulling her against her tattooed mons. Mina moaned whorishly, groping her own expansive teat, milk dribbling from her fat nipples freely, her hips moving as she pressed her cunt firmly against the lashing tongue of the noblewoman. Millia rocked, her pussy being hammered at the other end by an orcish warrior, entrapping her between the slave and the master in a carnal trap of pleasure and submission.
Screams and gasps could be heard all through the manor as the orcish host and their allied monsters had their way with the woman of the castle and the city. Walls that once glittered with crystalline lanterns that named the city the Jewel of Istanov were now splashed with blood, the fine crystal destroyed, its men slaughtered and daughters claimed by the monster hordes.
Basking in this ruination, the Red Witch laughed again, glorious in the scene of debauchery and her nudity, towering over the quivering lord of the land while all his ancestors built were plundered or defiled.
Loriana cried out, the wet slap of flesh on flesh quickening as she rode the painted orc faster. Faster! �
�Oh gods. Oh gods! Please! Don’t… don’t…”
“Don’t what, slut?” the Red Witch demanded. “Tell Ghostheart what he shouldn’t do?”
“D-don’t… nnn… don’t stooooop!” Loriana screamed as she hilted atop the cock of the orc who had conquered her city. She wailed as she came, shuddering in animalistic pleasure as her orgasm surged through her. “Don’t stop fucking meeeee!”
Ghostheart roared, ramming his cock again inside of the helpless maiden. She screamed again as he came, his foul seed pumping inside of her welcoming womb in a sudden gush of corruption. Her father watched, horrified as a symbol like a graven eye burned itself into the flesh above her mons. Loriana’s cry of pleasure turned to something more, then. A wail of helpless, orgiastic submission to the brute beneath her.
“I’ll tell you what,” the Red Witch said, conjuring a ball of crackling magic into her slim fingers. “Loriana? You decide your daddy’s fate. I’ll spare him. But if I do, Ghostheart will stop fucking you. How does that sound?”
Ghostheart growled at being made the pawn of the deal, but Loriana didn’t give him a chance to protest. She grabbed the orc’s legs, raised her ass ad brought it down frantically atop the orc’s pillar of his cock. “I don’t caaaare!” she cried out helplessly. “Please! Just don’t stop fucking me! Fuck me! Breed me again! Please! Please!”
Ghostheart grunted and renewed his hungry thrusts into the girl’s ruined pussy. The Red Witch laughed cruelly. “Well! It seems your daughter has made her choice. Lady Ronois? Anything to add?”
“Mmmmm!” Lady Ronois moaned into Mina’s cunt, her eyes rolling back as the orc behind her came with a bellow, his seed drooling from her conquered cunt.
The Red Witch grinned and turned to lord Ronois, who scrambled back in shock. “N-no. Please!”
Contemptuously the Red Witch hurled her spell. The magic struck the lord in a crackling spear of agony. The old man screamed as the fiery magic consumed him, skin crackling, bone blackening. Within a moment, only ash crumpled to the floor, the amulet of his office clanging off the tiles and rolling away.
At the sound Loriana screamed, cumming again. The muffled sound of her mother’s sweet orgasm followed, the roar of the orc fucking her overcoming it as the brute came, his seed etching the symbol of the eye above the noble’s mons, marking her as his and bred with his young.
“Ooooooh fuck I love it when you do that,” Lugrin cackled from his perch on a chandelier.
“What a coincidence! I love to do it,” the Red Witch cackled as she admired what she had done, but a sudden shock up her back warned her of a spell being cast. She turned sharply and raised her brows as the air coiled with darkness, rising and expelling a dark robed figure carrying a staff.
“Duke,” the Red Witch said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Yeah!” Lugrin said from above. “You look like the Witch when she finds me fucking her ass in the middle of the night. Hey!” he squawked as a bolt of magic shattered his perch.
“Master,” Ghostheart grunted as Lugrin flapped hastily into the air, the ruins of the chandelier shattering on the stones below. The orc pushed Loriana off his cock and stood. Instantly the girl crawled between his legs, lapping and sucking at his cock slavishly, her eyes glowing with ensorcelled adoration for her brutish mate. Ghostheart ignored her, looking intently at the Duke of Ashes.
“The bitch of an empress got the upper hand,” the Duke cursed, casting his hand furiously about himself. “The southern horde’s been vanquished by her and her army. I doubt a quarter of what I mustered will survive the purge she’ll follow up with.”
“Hm. Pity,” the Red Witch said, shrugging her bare shoulders.
“You could be a bit angrier about this,” the Duke said. “Thousands of monsters have been slaughtered by them. A whole horde destroyed! And now she holds the south under her sway, secure now.”
“I don’t really care,” The Red Witch giggled. “Let the monsters die. What does it matter? They should be used to it by now, after all. Besides! That was only a fragment of our strength. We have the true forces right here!”
The Duke ground his teeth. He grabbed his chin, rubbing it harshly as he regained his temper. “Although that is true, I didn’t expect her to be such a thorn in my side.”
“Hm. She sounds fun,” the Red Witch said, her eyes flashing with hunger. “When we take her down, give her to me. I’ll teach her the real meaning of respect.”
“I take,” Ghostheart growled. He grabbed Loriana by her brown pigtails and pushed her onto his shaft, the girl gagging as she eagerly bobbed atop his cock. “I tame.”
“You’re both getting rather ahead of yourselves,” the Duke noted dryly. “We have to defeat the wench first. And that may be easier said than done at this point. She has received aid from Heimsvak. I had expected those cowards to stay on their side of the border and wait for their turn on my blade.”
“We will kill them all,” the Red Witch said dismissively. “Istanov is doomed, don’t forget. Humanity has fallen all across the length of the empire. Every town has been crushed. Every woman given to the monsters to breed. Every day more monsters join us. We’ll sweep humanity from the world, and use them to breed a new generation of monsters.”
The Duke nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, we shall.” He chuckled. “Fine. Let the empress have this victory. I will teach what true horror is soon enough. Come,” he said, beckoning his two commanders. “Let us prepare our armies. It is time to sweep all of southern Istanov, and bring this fool empress to her knees!”
“Just where I like them,” the Red Witch said, her laughter ringing in the vaulted ceiling of the ruined palace. Beyond its walls, the city of man burned to ash.
< TABLE OF CONTENTS | NEXT UNCENSORED COVER >
Book Ten
Ecstasy of the Lore Hunter
By Amanda Clover and Jay Aury
@amandasmut
Cover artwork by Deilan12
Map of the Empire of Istanov
The Old Inn
Greta Dalia’s footsteps were the only sound in the village.
The young brunette peered about, frowning uneasily. The quiet was overwhelming, the sky growing dim as evening spread its shadows across the world. Houses opened up onto the cobblestone road, none with doors, and few with windows. Rusty red stains were splashed here and there, faded by weather. If there had been bodies, scavengers had dealt with them.
Greta licked her lips uneasily and shouldered her pack into a more comfortable position. She was used to the weight of it by now. This had hardly been the first expedition she’d been on. And it did counteract the weight of her breasts a bit. Her large chest pushed against the straps of the pack and the laces of her modest jacket. A short riding skirt flared around her hips and covered her pert bottom, and long leggings masked her shapely thighs and long, strong legs. But though she had made many journeys across the land of Istanov, this was the first she’d done all alone.
Usually she’d have some baggage trains, a few guards and a number of assistants. But it was a different world since she’d wandered over the hills of the ancient Mines of Tauven Mur, locating an ancient relic of the empire that ruled before Istanov. She’d even been awarded a medal from her cousin, the current empress. Recalling that moment sent a shiver of delight down her spine.
But she was alone now. Even if she’d been able to convince anyone to come out with her into the monster infested west of Istanov, she didn’t trust them. All alone, in a land filled with beasts and creatures of nightmare. Even after her glorious empress had crushed the monster horde at the battle of the Skull Keep the lands were still far from safe. Remnant forces and lone monsters preyed upon unwary travelers. What few humans had survived the monster’s advance would be even worse than the creatures which lurked among the forests and hills.
A sound at the edge of hearing made her freeze. She turned sharply, her eyes roaming across the ruins. “Who’s there!?” she called, then winced as her voice echoed back
to her among the empty homes. Oh, brilliant Greta. Yes. Call out. Let’s just let everything know you’re here. She stood, tensely listening. But the sound did not repeat.
Still, it had put a lump of fear in her throat. Her journey had been fairly uneventful thus far, but she had to remember the Duke of Ashes was still alive, and this village was definitely dead. Best not to linger too long in case any of what had done this bloody deed still occupied the town.
But she’d have to spend the night, that much was clear. She had no intention of sleeping outside in Istanov’s forests more than she had to. Her shoes clicked on the road as she hurried along, quicker now as the shadows grew long, reaching for her as she wandered among the town. At last she found an inn, or what was left of it. Pushing inside revealed a common room filled with broken furniture and the stink of spilled ale. She peered about warily at the interior as she stepped inside, conjuring a simple glow orb to hover at her shoulder, illuminating the interior in a pale light.
She made her way slowly through the inn, checking the basement where every barrel had been smashed, and the rooms where each bed had been torn apart, and some stained with fluids. She shuddered again. Everyone in Istanov now knew just what the monsters did with their women captives. Merely seeding their wombs cursed the poor girls, rendering them little more than eager breeding slaves to the creatures who had impregnated them. Some stories told of the girls being rescued, only to turn on their rescuer, kill them and eagerly throw themselves back into the arms of their monstrous lovers like some sort of deranged reversal of a fairy tale.
Well, she had no intention of that being her fate. Returning to the common room, Greta lit a simple fire in the old heart, feeding with broken furniture until a warm glow illuminated the large room and beat back the chill. Night had fallen beyond the windows, but Greta didn’t feel like sleeping quite yet. She shrugged out of her heavy travelling clothes, stretching in her soft undergarments, flesh golden in the warm light of the crackling flames. She fetched an unbroken bottle of wine from behind the bar and sat down on the floor, groaning in relief as she took off her pack, and from its depths pulled out a tattered, stained map.
The Pillaging of an Empire Page 45