The Pillaging of an Empire

by Amanda Clover

  She bounced on his lap, his hips hammering into her, her breasts rubbing against the orc’s chest. Pleasure surged through her from head to toe. This was it. This was what she’d wanted for so agonizingly long.

  “Oh gods!” Laya cried out, throwing back her head, keening with pleasure as she rode the orc’s plunging cock. “Yes. Yes! Oh gods! Gods yes! Fuck me! Breed me! Breed my human pussy! I want it so bad! Oh fuck yes! Yes! Mnnnnnn!”

  Laya screamed with ecstasy as she came, shuddering with her climax around the pounding cock of the orc. She kept bouncing on his cock, taking the thickness of him. The glorious length of his inhuman shaft. All that she had dreamed of was happening. Was taking her.

  The other orc warriors laughed at her eager submission. Her betrayal. Yes. Yes, she had damned her city. Her people. Her race to doom. All for this. All to be taken by a monster’s cock. To be claimed and bred as their unholy brood mother. The thought of it sent her to new heights, and with another scream she came again.

  As her pussy tightened around the shaft of the orc, he gave a great bellow of pleasure. He hilted within her, his grip bruising her soft hips, and he came. “Yesssss!” Laya cried as she felt his hot spunk pump into her, claiming her, breeding her helpless womb. Her cry rose higher still as she felt the glorious wave of submission pass through her, as the mark of the eye burned itself above her mons, pulsing red as the unholy sorcery took hold of her.

  Lugin sighed and stroked his crimson cock. “Mnn. You know, no matter how many times I see it, it always does my black heart good to see a slut get claimed by her master.”

  The Red Witch smirked at the sight. “Come on, boys,” she said, turning her back on Laya as the waitress continued to bounce on the orc’s fat cock. “We’ve got a city to claim. And don’t worry,” she added with a toss of her crimson hair. “There’ll be plenty of sluts for the rest of you.”

  The orcs roared in agreement and surged after her. With a wave of her hand the Red Witch shattered the main door of the tavern. Out flowed the orcish warband and into the heart of Kirinovo. The wall had fallen.

  And no one even knew it yet.

  A Desperate Defense

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, but no rain fell. The muggy air made Damera even more acutely aware of just how tight her armour was and how her silk shirt beneath rubbed against her nipples.

  She winced in annoyance. Ever since the incident in the dungeon hot desire had been the order of the day, radiating from her aching wound, urging her to touch herself. Fondle herself. She’d been forced to have her armour refitted. Her breasts had become larger. Heavier, but no less firm. She was worried. Worried what the cursed wound was doing to her.

  But she suspected she knew. Suspected that the accursed injury was somehow influencing her body. Attempting to turn her into a fat breasted brood mother. A creature to inflame the lusts of monsters.

  And worst of all, she found the idea appealing.

  Not willingly. But every time she thought of her large naked breasts. Her silken pussy. Her panting, moaning form, images would arise in her mind. She’d finger herself, picturing stunted gertlings rutting into her cunt, fucking her while she sucked on their cocks and they milked her bouncing tits. Of being on her hands and knees, crying out in helpless pleasure as a centaur mounted her, pounding her sopping cunt with his impossibly huge cock, breeding her like a mare. Of minotaur’s and their bestial shafts and she kneeling before them, sucking off their immense manhood, her milky breasts pressed around their massive cocks as she brought them to climax.

  She put a hand to her helmeted head, wincing as she felt her headache coming back on. Gods. Her body was on fire. She could practically feel the monsters beyond the wall, baying for her. Wanting her. Eager to make her kneel before them and fuck her before the eyes of her watching army. She wished the thought didn’t turn her on so. She dearly wished it didn’t.

  “Empress!”

  She jerked her head back up. A rider pounded through the open court of the palace and before her. He threw a hasty salute.

  “My lady! Orcs are within the city! They’re attacking the townsfolk and making straight for the gate!”

  Damera scowled. She’d feared as much. Sallowmarsh had shown her just how insidious the monsters could be, corrupting or infiltrating cities in order to prepare for the inevitable assault. She drew her sword, the jewel of the last kingdom burning in its hilt, the dark stone flashing in the torchlight. “Right! Riders, we go! Support the gate. Crush the brutes! Defend your city!”

  A roar went up from the waiting knights. Men she’d kept in reserve to support any part of the walls that weakened during the siege. She had to be quick about it. It was inevitable that parts of the walls would start to crumble under the monster’s assault. They had to push them back.

  “With me!” she cried, swinging forward her blade. “Charge!”

  The palace gates were open. Thunder rumbled overhead, echoed in the beating hoofs as the riders streamed from the courtyard and into the cramped city streets. Darkened houses flashed by. The frightened faces of women, the old and infirm glanced out. Those who could not man the walls. Those whose lives depended on her success. She couldn’t fail. She mustn’t fail.

  No matter how much the thought of it made her pussy ache, rubbing against the saddle.

  The walls loomed ahead over the sloping roofs and burning lanterns. Shouts and screams rent the night. The bellow of orcs prime among them. She caught glimpses of broken doors of a number of homes the orcs had attacked before convening on the gate. The dead littered the ground in pathetic jumbles.

  Ahead she saw Kirinovo’s gates. Fighting had engulfed the space around it. She drove her steed faster, desperate. Orcs were clumped about the walls, and even as she rode forward, she saw the barred portcullis begin to rise with a creak of chains.

  “For Istanov!” Damera roared as she burst out of the street and into the square. Orcs turned in shock as her cavalry and knights hit them. Soldiers cheered as the reinforcements were received, even as the gate creaked to a halt. Not open fully, but even so monsters surged through the gap and into the square. The two sides clashed with a shriek of steel and snarl of man and monster.

  Her horse reared, lashing out with hooves. An orc’s face caved in under the blow, another went down, screaming before the crunch of bone beneath her steed silenced it. Damera laid out with her sword, the stone flaring at its hilt, the blade glowing as it cut through green and grey flesh with ease.

  Red flared in the corner of her eye. She turned as crimson lightning surged for her. Her steed shrieked as the blast took it full in the chest. Damera clenched her teeth as hot agony raced up her arms. Her horse screamed, falling. She threw herself from the saddle, hitting the ground. Agony and desire surged through her as she struck her wounded side, scrambling to her feet.

  A woman walked through the chaos towards her. Bare feet carried her forward, full breasts high and proud. A face of power and cruelty looked down at Damera while scarlet hair twisted and writher in a vortex of raw power. Crimson static clawed up the woman’s naked frame as she stopped, smirking at the empress.

  Even before she saw the imp flutter to the woman’s shoulder, she knew who she faced. “The Red Witch,” Damera hissed.

  “Ey! She knows you. Isn’t that something?” the imp said before the sorceress flicked him off.

  “The empress of Istanov,” the red head said with a mocking bow. “So you’re the one the Duke and Ghostheart had such trouble with. Have to admit,” she said with an appraising glance at the busty empress, “I can see the appeal. No wonder that orc wanted to fuck your royal cunt.”

  “Traitor!” Damera snarled, lifting her sword. “You abandoned your own race!”

  The Red Witch laughed with cruel delight. “I did! And it was magnificent. Mnn. Feels so liberating! How about it? Want to join me? I bet you can’t wait to. All those sinful little urges just telling you to take a monster’s fat cock. To just bend over and let them ream your uptight little
cunt.”

  Damera blushed. Her wound ached, her nipples stiffening, rubbing against the silk of her shirt. “Sh-shut up!”

  The Red Witch laughed and raised her hand. Power surged up her arm into a ball of raging lightning she hurled towards the empress. Damera threw herself aside, the spell shattering the cobblestones where she’d stood in an explosion of stone and dust.

  “You’re wearing far too much,” the Red Witch said, orbs of light crackling around her hands. “Let’s fix that!”

  Again she threw forward her bristling magic. Too late, Damera tried to dodge. The spell hit her full in the chest. She screamed in pain as her armour was ripped away as if by savage claws, breastplate torn aside, her silk shirt shredded to ragged strips. She staggered back.

  The Red Witch cackled and took a step forward, her hips swinging in the sensual sway of predatory hunger. Power danced on her fingers and again a surge of crimson lightning surged towards the dazed empress.

  Damera swung up her sword.

  Spell and steel clashed. Damera skidded back a foot before she stopped. She grit her teeth, holding her family’s sword before her, crimson lightning clawing along the blade. The stone at its hilt blazed with life, the iron white hot.

  The witch’s smirk faded. Damera took a step forward. Another.

  “Bitch!” the Red Witch growled, pushing more might into her spell. Tongues of lightning snapped out, crackled, ripping great fissures in the pavement. Damera struggled forward, fighting against the force of the magic, pushing on.

  For the first time, fear shone in the Red Witch’s eyes. Fear as the empress fought forward despite the arcane might thrown against her. Battled against the insidious magic that surged through her side. The air screamed from the warring forces of sorcery.

  With a final cry, Damera swung her blade. The enchanted steel crashed against the spell.

  The explosion was more than deafening. A sound so loud it seemed an absence of one. Silencing everything around it. The Red Witch was hurled back, crashing to the ground. She hit the wall; breath driven from her in a gasp.

  Damera stood still, holding her blade before her. Its steel steamed in the air. Her breasts heaved, the rags of her shirt stirring around her. Grimly, she advanced.

  “I suggest you stop, empress!”

  Damera spun about, sword raised. Her eyes were drawn up and a gasp escaped her.

  His robes snapping about him in the cold wind, the Duke of Ashes stood astride the top of the gate. His pale face seemed to hover in the darkness of his hood, his eyes sharp and cruel. In one hand he clutched his cane, the head carved in the shape of an eye.

  But in the other he held a figure. Her pale flesh seemed to glow in the darkness. Her blonde hair stirred and her glowing crystalline wings flapped uselessly in the air.

  “Tiana!” Damera gasped, horror tightening in her chest at the sight of the angel in the grasp of the Duke.

  “So you do know each other,” the Duke said, smirking down at her, yanking the angel closer. His hand engulfed the angel’s soft breast, the heavenly woman wincing as he groped her. “How lovely. Then this will be even easier. Surrender, empress,” the Duke said, his other hand leaving his cane which remained standing as if nailed to the ground. His fingers played against the angel’s slit, making Tiana quiver, her mouth opening in a pant of pleasure. “Surrender, or I’ll defile this creature’s holy flesh.”

  Damera shook as she watched the torrid scene, her body pulsing with desire. Arousal. “Monster!” she cried, her voice breaking as the power of her sword weakened against the insidious influence of her wound.

  The Duke laughed. “Hardly an insult, empress. Now drop your weapon!”

  Damera looked about blankly. Her forces were in retreat, pushed back. Monsters poured through the open gates. Men died, falling, screaming as they were torn apart. Those on the walls were fleeing, the townsfolk abandoning the walls. Running back into the maze of the streets. Fires were already beginning to burn throughout Kirinovo.

  Her sword slipped from nerveless fingers, clattered to the ground. The gem in its hilt pulsed once more, then the glow faded, dying slowly.

  The moment the sword left her hand the insidious arousal of her wound rushed in. The void that was left was filled. Damera cried out in despair; a sound so weak, so helpless, and falling into a needy whimper. Her legs gave way and she fell to her knees, bowing her head.

  The Duke of Ashes laughed, the sound cruel and savage. He grasped the angel’s wings and wrenched. Tiana screamed as her wings shattered into motes of light, her head thrown back in pain and despair. Contemptibly, the Duke thrust her over the wall. She fell, her glow fading, her flesh losing its holy hue. But death did not wait her near the ground. Hands and claws caught her, bearing her down. Howling with glee monsters surrounded the former angel, pawing at her soft curves, scratching her with claws.

  Damera watched, her eyes empty. Hollow. Her core throbbed as a minotaur speared Tiana with his massive cock, the angel’s scream of pain morphing into a moan of ecstasy as the monster plunged his shaft into the angel’s form.

  A hand grabbed Damera’s head, forcing it back, forcing her to watch. “Look at her,” the Red Witch hissed into the empress’s ear. “Look at how eager she is for monster cock. It’s almost pathetic, isn’t it? But it’s so arousing too. Hm?”

  Damera whimpered as the Red Witch grasped the empress’s full breast, fondling that perky orb, feeling that stiffened peak of Damera’s nipple. Damera didn’t fight it. She couldn’t turn away from the torrid scene as the angel was mounted, her cries of pleasure silenced as an orc claimed her mouth with his thick cock, spit-roasting her between him and the minotaur.

  Hot pleasure pounded through Damera. She didn’t bother loathing herself for watching. She was beyond that. Beyond such feeble despair. Her body tingled with awareness of her own arousal. With searing heat of desire that washed away all the shame and pride she once held to herself. Her pussy dripped with arousal. Waves of hot and cold spread from the cursed wound in her side.

  The angel screamed in ecstasy as the minotaur howled, spearing her on his cock, his balls tightening as he came. The emblem of the eye blazed into existence on Tiana’s mons, branding her the breeding stock of monsters. The angel’s cry rose in a call of pleasure. Of servitude even as her stomach bulged from the amount of cum pumped into her.

  “Like that?” the Red Witch purred into Damera’s ear.

  “Nnn,” Damera whimpered.

  “Strip, slut.”

  Resistance was gone. Damera’s hands moved, pushing down her pants, baring her wet slit. She whimpered as she started openly fingering herself, watching as Tiana was defiled by the monsters, cries of fear and pain changed to moans and pants of pleasure, her hips bucking eagerly as the minotaur pounded the angel’s cunt, her breasts bouncing on her chest.

  “Oh, you love it,” the Red Witch cackled as Damera pulled away yet more of her tattered garments. “I knew you were a slut. But we had to make sure you knew it too. That’s why we gave you that pretty cut along your side. Just to make sure that you really appreciated what you truly wanted. Make sure you gave in to aaaall those naughty urges.”

  Damera whimpered, her pants falling around her knees in the bloody streets, the rags of her jacket falling away, leaving her naked. Panting. Needy.

  “You’re doing so well, empress,” the Red Witch giggled, her hand snaking down Damera’s front, stroking her soaking slit, making the empress whimper and pant. “Just giving in to all those sinful urges. I knew you were always a monster slut. You fought them, but what you really wanted to do was fuck them. Didn’t you? Oh you poor thing. Denying yourself for so long.”

  “N-nooo,” Damera whimpered.

  “No?” the Red Witch crooned. “You mean you don’t want to be bent over and stuffed with monster cock?” She flicked Damera’s clit, making the empress buck and gasp. “You don’t want to grow heavy with monster pups? Your tits fat with milk for your master’s young? Your body their playthin
g? A living cock sleeve for your new masters?”

  Damera whimpered, trying to deny it, but she knew she couldn’t. Every suggestion sent another stab of sweetest lust piercing through her. Every touch of the Red Witch’s finger sent her hips twitching, humping the teasing finger. Her breath steamed in the air. Her head was spinning. Her body subsumed her hesitation. Drowned her will, herself beneath the impatient need to be bred. To be taken and conquered and made an eager slut.

  A shadow fell over them. Damera raised her head.

  “Oh,” the Red Witch giggled. “It looks like your first has come along.”

  Ghostheart towered over them. The orc’s muscled grey hide cut a dark shadow against the fires of the city. Blood splattered his bare chest, his face blank beneath the white paint in the guise of a skull. But his eyes. His eyes burned with dark triumph and terrible desire.

  “Go on now,” the Red Witch murmured into her ear. “Show him how much you regret giving him his newest scar.”

  Damera shuddered. Her body seemed to move on its own. Lie back, push out her hips. Her eyes were smoky and pleading as she reached down and parted her slick cunt lips, baring her pink depths.

  “P-please,” Damera whimpered. “Please… f-fuck me.”

  The Red Witch cackled as Ghostheart moved over them. “That a girl,” the sorceress grinned, drawing back, leaving the quivering empress for the towering orc. His hands gripped her hips, the sensation shooting through Damera with eager anticipation. Her lips parted as the orc crouched over her, pulled aside his loincloth, baring the thick pillar of his cock. Gods. Gods, how had Damera resisted him that time before Sallowmarsh? How had she not seen the glory of such a specimen of manhood. The greatness of such a pillar of masculine power. Her breath was hot. Her whole body burning with fertility. There would be no going back. No returning. She knew this would damn her.

  And she didn’t care.