“Come,” the thin man said, gliding back out the tunnel in the wall.
“So long,” the woman teased, her fingers wiggling in farewell. She spun about, golden tassels flicking in the air as she followed the other mage out the tunnel and away.
The eon old silence of the temple once more filled the chamber. Greta lay there, a prisoner of her own body, but her mind worked frantically. The Red Mages. The Red Mages had the spell. Knew the secret of the temple. The magic that could win the war against the Duke of Ashes in a flash. They knew it and kept it hidden. Why? What did they have to gain from the rise of the monsters?
Greta quivered faintly. She had to warn the empress! She had to let her know! She couldn’t die down here. She had to let her love know that the greatest enemy wasn’t the Duke of Ashes, but the wizards who worked at her side!
Her finger twitched. Greta glanced down, realizing she could move, if only slightly. Perhaps the magic of the temple was interfering with the Red Mage’s sorceries. Or her love for the empress surmounted that vile magic. With excitement Greta tried to move more, feeling returning with agonizing slowness to her body.
Shuffling steps had her freeze once more. With agonizing effort she managed to tilt her head towards the opening of the chamber.
Dinni crouched at the lip of the tunnel, the gertling’s eyes bright. Hope flared in her chest, tamped down a second later when she saw the cut of his wide grin.
“Oooh,” Dinni said with mocking sympathy as he picked his way into the chamber. “Wo-man not look so good. She look like she in trouble.”
Greta stared at the gertling in quiet fear, her every fiber straining to move more against the confines of the spell. The gertling tittered to himself as he came to crouch before her, leering down at her helpless face. He reached out and gently stroked her hair. “You not worry. Me Dinni not hurt wo-man. You keep end of deal. You let Dinni go. Me be nice. Me even come to help.”
The gertling nodded, ears flopping at the motion. “Yes. Me Dinni come back. Save wo-man from temple and death. But me want reward like before. Hmm. But this big thing Dinni do,” he mused, and again Greta’s hope plummeted when she saw the cruel glint in his grin. “Me know good reward! Me take wo-man cove. That good reward for saving from temple!”
Greta shuddered. No. No! If he took her cunt… if he came inside of her, she’d be struck by the curse of the Duke of Ashes. Enslaved to the gertling as little more than his eager brood mother. She tried to protest, but her lips merely quivered, her tongue still.
Dinni cackled. “Me make feel good,” he told her, not unkindly. The gertling rose and pulled away his loincloth, baring his mottled cock, the warty little shaft rigid with his desire. Greta tried to move away from the stunted creature, but her efforts only gained her another faint quiver. Dinni stepped over her and between her legs, parting her pale thighs and baring her puffy slit. Grinning even wider, Dinni crawled between her legs, lowering his head and beginning to lap at her cunt.
“Mmmnnnn…” whimpered Greta, the only sound she could make as the gertling began his assault on her body. Her ass twitched, muscles frozen by sorcery responding to this outside stimulus. This pleasure that began to throb through her core. The fear was still there. Sharp. Intense. But worse was the first trickling of pleasure.
Dinni eagerly drove his tongue into her sopping cunt, and despite herself a soft moan escaped her trembling lips. No. No she couldn’t be enjoying this! She mustn’t be! But… but maybe… maybe there was hope. Maybe whatever magic enchanted the temple might prevent the Duke’s brand from overtaking her. Maybe the gertling would pull out. These and a dozen other thoughts flickered through her head, even as her thighs twitched and trembled, her honey pot drooling with arousal.
Dinni moaned as he drank at her flower, his eager tongue drilling into her clutching pussy, searching for that tender bud that would send her wild. Not even the paralysis spell could prevent Greta’s gasp as the gertling’s lips found her clit, his tongue swirling about it, lashing it with eagerness as he listened to her panting, watching her heaving breasts, nipples hardening like diamonds.
Dinni pulled his face from her muff, her arousal fairly dripping from his long hooked nose. “Me claim now,” he rasped, pushing between her legs, aligning his stunted cock. Greta shook at the sight of his warty shaft, remembering that night at the broken inn. If she got out of this, she was going to burn his stunted little prick off! She was going to… going to…
Scream in pleasure as his cock at last lunged into her sensitive cunny, filling her in a sharp burst of that sweet pleasure. She bucked, an instinctive motion as Dinni began to rut into her cunt, and she realized she could move a little more now. Realized that hot pleasure bursting through her like fireworks was burning away the spell!
And with this understanding, she knew what she had to do. She began to move against the gertling as much as she could, hips twitching as he fucked her. If she could get enough pleasure while he fucked her, she could escape him. Blast him to oblivion and return to the empress and deliver the news of the Red Mage’s treachery.
With this in mind she adjusted beneath him, pushing out her luscious tits. She knew the gertling couldn’t resist, and as expected he lunged atop her, grasping her hand filling orbs, smothering his face in the valley between her breasts. Even as he groped and licked at her teats his bony hips kept hammering her mons, thrusting his stunted cock eagerly into her clutching cunt, spearing her with that sweet pleasure.
Close. She was close. She could feel the icy tendrils of paralysis burn away as she fucked the gertling. Oh gods. She was nearly there. She could lift her arms. Even as she rolled her hips against the gertling she reached for the neck she’d held in magic’s grasp for so long. She was going to kill him. Kill him!
“Nnnnnnaaaaa!” Dinni screamed as he thrust a final time, stuffing her cunt with his warty cock, his cry of pleasure ringing out as he came.
And everything changed.
Greta cried out as his oily seed rushed into her waiting womb, filling her with the gertling’s cum. She wailed in pleasure as she felt herself claimed, her core boiling with sweet ecstasy, the mark of an eye burning itself above her mons, claiming her for the pathetic creature rutting in her cunt. In an instant all her old concerns were washed away. Her life. Her empress. The betrayal of the Red Mages, all made so insignificant to the glory it was to feel the gertling’s cum filling her.
“Dinniiiiii!” Greta screamed, her voice released, crying out her mate’s name as her orgasm surged through her. Hands reaching to strangle the stunted monster instead pulled him deeper into her breasts. Her legs wrapped around him, plunging his cock further into her clutching quim as she milked him of every drop of his wonderful seed.
“Yesssss!” Greta wailed in delight. “Keep fucking me! Oh please! Please master! Don’t stop filling me with your glorious seeeeeed!”
Dinni moaned. “Me not. You good slut!” the gertling panted from between her teats as he started to thrust again, still so eagerly hard to breed her.
“Yes!” Greta panted frantically. “Oh yes! Fuck me master. Breed my pussy again and again! Oh I can’t wait. I can’t wait to have your young. Oh fuck master. Fuck me haaaaard!”
Dinni howled as he again came inside her clutching cunny. Greta screamed in ecstasy as his oily cum filled her, leaking out her stuffed quim and tracing a line down between her ass cheeks. Panting, she pushed the gertling off and out of her. “Oh master. Master,” Greta panted, rolling over onto her hands and knees, lifting the plump peach of her bottom. “Please. Ah. Please f-fuck my ass again. Claim me there again.”
Dinni grinned in delight. “Okay. Me be good master. Me promise. Remember?”
“Oh yesssss,” Greta gasped. “I’m so sorry I didn’t… didn’t let you fuck my pussy back then. Oh gods. I wish I only knew how wonderful it was being yours. Please. Please take my ass, master.”
Dinni laughed, grabbing her plush bottom eagerly and aligning his warty cock. “Okay! Me fuck bottom ag
ain!”
“Yes! Thank youuuuuuuuuuu!” Greta cried as the gertling’s warty cock filled her ass once more, the stunted monster squealing as he clung to her ass, hammering her with his eager thrusts, bursts of pleasure blazing through her. “Yesssss!” Greta cried out, rapturous with the sensation. “Yesss! Thank you! Ah! Ah! Thank you master! Masterrrrrr!”
She came again, orgasm flowing through her like liquid flame, burning away all her worries. All her fears. All her ambitions beyond being this pathetic monster’s eager brood slave. Her mons twitched, the emblem of an eye pulsing with her desire as she thrust back against the gertling’s hammering cock. She reached beneath her, fingering herself as she took his cock.
Dinni squealed in pleasure as he came again, pumping his hot seed into her tender asshole. Greta wailed as she came with him, frantically thrusting her fingers in her sopping cunt, feeling the gertling’s seed that still filled her along with her own juices.
Panting, Dinni pulled his cock from her ass. He sighed, wiping his brow at the effort of claiming the shapely noble. He spanked her bottom. “Up, slut! We go now. We leave.”
On shaky legs Greta climbed to her feet. She beamed at her master. “Okay,” she said happily. Dinni smirked up at her and strutted off down the tunnel, back towards the surface. Swaying a little at the afterglow of her orgasms, Greta eagerly followed the stunted little monster. To where she didn’t know. All she knew was that she loved her mate.
And that she was so lucky to be his slave.
< TABLE OF CONTENTS | NEXT UNCENSORED COVER >
Book Eleven
Marked by the Minotaur
By Amanda Clover and Jay Aury
@amandasmut
Cover artwork by Deilan12
Map of the Empire of Istanov
Captured by the Beast
Dawn was a long way off, but the horizon glowed red. So did the streets. The alleys. The shops. Everywhere and everything Doria Baker knew burned, her old life going up in the apocalyptic flames.
She ran through the streets she once knew, but no longer. Screams and howls of horrors rang above the whoosh and crackle of devouring flame. Her bare feet slapped paved stones where blood oozed between. Her night gown fluttered along her shapely thighs, her generous chest heaving, her red hair in a disorganized tangle around her head.
Beside her panted Tina. They’d both awakened to the shouts of alarm and screams of the guards. They’d stayed in the bakery that night. Business had been slow for some time. No one moved down the roads anymore. No one dared to brave them, for the monsters were on the prowl. Emboldened, hungry.
She coughed, smoke rushing into her face. With a squeal Tina fell, skinning her knees on the hard stone road. The younger girl kneeled there, panting and sobbing. Doria turned about and grabbed the other girl, trying to haul her to her feet. “Come on!” she begged, pulling the slighter girl. Tina shook her head, tears pricking the corner of her eyes from despair and the acrid smoke.
“Doria. I can’t… I can’t…”
“You’ve got to! We’ve got to get out! We have to-“
Wood splintered with a deafening crash. From a nearby door the baker, Arnold, fell out under the weight of a mass of bristling fur. Arnold hit the ground, the air rushing from him like the bellows of the town’s forge. The bristling monster snarled, eyes pulsing a yellow light, muzzle twisted in hate. It turned from the man beneath it, those terrible eyes locking on the two young women, frozen in horror at the sight of their nightmares come to life. Its lips peeled back, revealing jagged teeth.
Arnold suddenly grabbed the thing by the throat. The baker’s arms bulged as he squeezed, trying to strangle the monster. It snarled, grappling with the large man. The two rolled through the ash and mud, struggling desperately.
The terrible spell was broken. Doria yanked Tina to her feet despite the younger girl’s moaning protest. She dragged her down a narrow alley between shops, stumbling as they went.
They froze at the end of the alley. In the next street bedlam was taking place. Men fought with whatever they had against the monstrous invaders, to little avail. Orcs laughed contemptuously, shattering shaking staves and crude spears, splitting open the panicking villagers with great swings of brutal axes.
The women screamed and wailed, grabbed by gertlings and wulfen. Forced to their knees, bound up. Some hadn’t even waited to do that, tearing the clothes from the village girls, taking them with brutal thrusts of their inhuman cocks. And yet that was not the worst. The worst was the moans not of pain, but of pleasure. Doria’s eyes widened as she watched a wulfen howl, filling the panting woman beneath him with his virile seed. How the woman’s cries of horror turned to gasps of hot pleasure. A red light flared above her mons, a symbol like an open eye burning into being moments before her arms tightened around her bestial lover, her hips rolling as she eagerly began to fuck herself atop the turgid fuck-stick buried in her.
“Gods help us,” Doria gasped.
She tore her eyes from the monstrous scene, glancing about. Hope bloomed in her chest. The surviving men were fleeing, a number of monsters pursuing. Those not were enraptured by the sight of their companions claiming the moaning women. Some had even begun to snap and snarl, competing for the rights to claim some of the captive women.
“This is our chance,” Doria whispered.
“Oh gods no…” Tina moaned.
“Tina! Come on!”
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “We shouldn’t… where can we go? What’s the point? They’ll just… they’ll just find us anyway…”
“We can’t stay!”
“I’m not going!” Tina moaned, covering her eyes with her hands, sinking to her knees in despair. “I’m not...”
Doria hesitated. She glanced back at the street, knowing her window of opportunity was rapidly closing. She pulled at Tina’s arm but the other girl remained where she was. Squeezing her eyes shut, Doria turned and dashed into the street.
A few feet were all the distance across, and yet she never felt like she’d walked further in her life. Her heart hammered in her chest; her body wracked with tremors. Not a few feet away the screams and moans of the women as they were taken beat against her. She forced herself to stare ahead, stare at the next alley, praying not a one of the monsters looked about and saw her.
She made it. Gasping, she fell into the alley across the main street. She stumbled against the wall but kept going. She started to run, fleeing the sound of the monsters as they claimed the village girls. The woods. If she could get to the woods, then maybe… maybe she’d have a chance. Maybe she could run.
She tried to ignore the knowledge it was from the forest the monsters had come. That the forest had long been known for its creatures. Hopelessness squeezed her heart in a vise. But she had no choice. She had no choice at all…
As she staggered towards the end of the alley, a dark shape suddenly stepped into the gap. Doria froze, eyes widening. By the light of the fires she saw a mass of thick brown fur and cloven hooves. A bulk made of pure muscle standing near twice her height, bull horns curling from a muzzled head. A minotaur, he fairly filled the gap of the alley with his bulk, his dark eyes shining in the red light of the fires.
Doria’s eyes inevitably wandered down, down to the great hose of his cock dangling between his legs so not even his tattered loincloth fully hid him. Flared like the bull he so resembled, the girth of his cock stunned Doria with perverse horror.
“Oh…” she whimpered, slowly sinking to her knees, despair choking her as she realized her fate. That all she had managed to do was delay the inevitable. She felt her hot tears streak through the ash which coated her cheeks. “Oh…”
The minotaur stepped into the alley. His hooves clicked, his bulk casting a cool shadow over her. Doria lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the inevitable.
She felt the beast stop before her. Then, a finger touched her chin, lifted it. She opened her eyes, staring into the face of the bestial monster towering o
ver her.
“It okay,” the minotaur rumbled, his voice a deep bass rising from his chest. “It okay.”
Doria choked. “Just… just do it,” she whimpered.
The minotaur stared down at her. Then, crouching down, he patted her head. “I… not take,” he said slowly, the human words strange and unfamiliar on his tongue. “I not rape.”
Doria blinked, uncomprehending. She stared at the bestial creature as its muzzle split, showing its teeth. She pulled back, but then realized the creature was trying to smile. It was… it was trying to smile for her.
The laughter bubbled up from the depths of hysteria. The absurdity of it overwhelmed her and choking sobs of mirth escaped her. She doubled over, her ribs hurting as she laughed and cried in equal measure. She didn’t know why. She had no idea what was so funny. But she just couldn’t stop.
The minotaur joined her. His great booming laugh thundered from his broad, scarred chest. Doria gasped, choking on her laughter as his massive hands suddenly grasped her, lifting her into his arms and against his chest. He rose, cradling her against him. His dark fur tickled her skin and his bestial musk overpowered even the scent of fire and smoke. She grabbed his shoulders, clinging to the great brute as he strode out of the alleyway and back into the burning streets.
Doria had no idea what was happening. Was the monster carrying her somewhere else before he took her? She shook her head, lost in the strangeness of it all. The absurdity of her situation. But, as they walked through the town, the monsters about them gave them little notice. Not when they had the rest of the women to slake their lusts on.
By now there wasn’t a woman who hadn’t been taken by the brutes. Every cry of protest had been silenced, replaced by needy moans and panting pleasure. Everywhere she looked the brand of the eye glowed on shaking mons as inhuman cocks hammered sloshing pussies. The buxom wife of the baker was on all fours, her moaning muffled by a gertling’s cock while another fucked her pussy. The mayor’s daughter bounced on the lap of a howling wulfen, the feral beast plunging his knotted cock into the girl, his hands molding her shapely tits through the rags of her gown as she screamed and slammed herself down onto his lap.
The Pillaging of an Empire Page 50