by Reed James
“Yes, it shall.”
Her tongue flicked out, sliding over the ring. She nudged it, sending pleasure shooting down my cock. Then her tits slid up my dick again, the bands massaging my frenulum. My balls twitched. The pleasure shot through me.
“Oh, Marcus, that looks like so much fun!” Iris said. “Kulri, you could do that to him.”
“If he commands it,” the elf said, sounding bored. “You should hurry. The naiad looks almost done.”
“She's getting me there,” I panted.
The pressure rose in my nuts, driving me towards that delicious explosion of cum. I shuddered at the feel of Twist's banded scales and her forked tongue. This exotic monster girl—dragonborn!—was driving me towards my explosion. I would cum so hard on her face.
Just erupt. I wanted to baste her face with my cum. To feel that jizz exploding out of me. My hands stroked across her hairless head. Her scales were smooth here, thicker than on other parts of her body. Down the back were ridges.
Her tits slid up my cock, engulfing them in those banded breasts.
“Shit!” I groaned. “Twist, yes!”
My cum fired out of my balls. I painted across her crimson face. My jizz splattered her nose, her cheekbones. The pearly spunk ran through the pattern of her scales, spilling over them. My balls unloaded over and over.
This felt incredible.
Amazing.
“Fuck!” I groaned as I spurted again and again. “That's an amazing titty fuck!”
Her tits squeezed around my erupting cock, pliant and soft beneath her scales. Her mouth opened wide. Her tongue flicked out, letting me bathe the forked ends in my jizz. She pulled it back into her mouth and swallowed it, delight shining in her blue, slitted eyes.
“What wonderful jizz you have, Marcus,” she hissed.
“Glad your breasts and my cum go together,” I panted as a final spurt spilled over onto the pink of her scales, beading at the gap between segments.
“Me, too.” Her forked tongue licked out far, far longer than any tongue I'd seen. She covered most of her face with it, swiping up my cum.
“Oh, my,” Maria moaned.
The elf's ears twitched.
Dëshoma shook her head. “If thou art finished dallying with our newest... companion, then may I suggest we press on. The foul and despicable cultists even now prepare to sacrifice the two maidens thou hast sworn to protect. We do not have the time to tarry.”
“Right,” I said, studying Dëshoma. She did not look happy. “Welcome to the party, Twist.”
Chapter Nineteen: The Rogue Joins the Party
“So how did you get past the angel?” I asked as Twist walked beside me at the front of the party.
The dragonborn grinned at me. She had donned her armor. Not that there was much she wore. Her torso armor consisted of a pair of straps that crisscrossed her chest, both just covering her nipples while letting some of her red areolas peek out on the sides. Both straps attached to her belt from which hung a leather loincloth, not much thicker than the one gracing Maria. She had shurikens held in the straps of her armor like she wore a pair of bandoleers and not anything protective. She wore brown, knee-high boots that made not a sound as she walked at my side.
She could move with surprising stealth as we headed down the hallway beyond the curtain of water. Her hand rested on the pommel of a dagger with a needle-slender blade on her right hip, which swayed with her steps.
“Oh, her,” said Twist. Then, in a sibilant and mocking sound, repeated the poem: “A vow I swore, to guard yon door, behest of life's goddess. Shuwëmeri's bliss, a blessed kiss, may pass beyond my charge. If not divine, your choice sublime, to drip with male delight. A woman nubile, a pussy fertile, brimming with salty seed. To pay my fee, share with me, a taste of cunt fulfilled. I could wipe my ass with that riddle.”
“The angel thou doth speak of is a servant of Shuwëmeri and a powerful guardian. Thou shouldst show her respect.”
“Why, she an aunt of yours or something?” Twist asked, not looking back at Dëshoma.
“Mine father serves Ëshuxeri, not Shuwëmeri. They art different goddesses. So mine blood and hers doth not swirl with the same familial essence.”
“Does she always talk like that?” Twist asked.
“Lady Dëshoma has a refined and proper way of speaking,” I said.
“Like that, huh? You fuck her yet?”
“Thou shouldst not ask such questions!”
“So you have.” Twist threw back her head and laughed. “How'd her angelborn cunt feel on your cock?”
I glanced back at Dëshoma. Her cheeks were as red as her veil. She clutched her bible to her chest while she glared at the back of Twist's head. There went having a party that got along. I liked Twist. She was forward. Bold. I didn't have to play any games with her, but...
“It bothers her talking about this,” I said. “And you haven't answered my questions.”
“Oh, right.” Twist shrugged. “I'm a rogue. I poked around and found a hole. Wiggled through it into a cave that ran down and down. Got my feet wet, but no problem. Thūgiz's s blistered cock, bet that pissed off the angel. Didn't have to play her games.” Twist glanced at me. “Of course, if you were there... Who'd you fuck, angelborn?”
“Lord Marcus had not yet encountered me,” Dëshoma answered.
“Marcus Aurelius and I engaged in coitus.” Kulri said.
Twist sniggered and mouthed, “Coitus?”
“It is the proper term for sexual intercourse,” Kulri said. “If you wish to mock me, don't turn your head so I can see your lips move.”
“I'll remember that,” Twist said.
“You're going to be a problem, aren't you?” I grunted.
“Yep.” She laughed. “And you're going to love it. I'll suck all the jizz out of your balls when you're in my pussy.”
“Nope,” Maria said. “Our party leader has stamina.”
I shrugged.
As we walked, I took the moment to pursue Twist's character sheet. Unsurprisingly, one of her traits was Lusty. The other sexual trait she had was Fellatist. No wonder she was so skilled at licking up cum off her face. She was down some Hit Points when she joined. She'd have gained a few from licking my cock. She also had a grayed out skill, Titty Fuck. She needed more practice on that, I guessed.
I'd be willing to give it to her.
“So, what are you after?” I asked. “Not fighting evil clerics.”
“Just after the gold in their pockets. Treasure.” She grinned. “I bet there's a mountain of it the priests squirreled away. Can't trust them holy types. Biggest crooks. Why the world's shattered, ain't it?”
“Thou art grossly misinformed, Twist,” Dëshoma said. “The actions of the Hierophant were the only option to stop the evil that festered in the heart of the Inferius Empire that did rule our lands united.”
“See, spin things in their favor. But everyone does it, so don't get your wimple wrapped too tight 'bout your throat.”
Dëshoma began a retort when a creature burst from the walls, a slathering beast covered in dark, mangy fur. Twist drew her dagger and thrust it in a single motion. The blow caught the creature in the throat. Blood spurted when she pulled her narrow, bronze blade from it. More crimson flowed out of it, damaging the creature.
She had a bleed DOT.
My ax came out of my sheath and slammed into the shaggy beast's head. I cleaved deep into its skull. It staggered back, twitching. Blood gushed a final time from it and then it collapsed at our feet. A smell of wet fur filled my nose.
Then more of them burst out of the wall.
I Yelled, activating my buff while Maria did the same, her bronze sword flashing out of its sheath.
“Earth-cursed werewolves!” shouted Kulri. “Let the geometries of space entwine around me and shield me from damage!”
Twist suddenly vanished as a beast rushed at her after wiggling out of the wall of the cave itself. It snarled and turned on me, crashing into my shield.
I growled as it scratched at my wooden defense. I slammed my ax into its side, delivering a Hard Strike.
It staggered then snapped its jaws over my shield. Sharp teeth came for my face when suddenly it gurgled and then collapsed, spilling down my body. Twist stood behind it, her dagger bloody, a grin on her face.
“You just back-stabbed it,” I said. “How long can you disappear?”
“I can Vanish for up to twenty seconds, but attacking breaks it.”
“Nice!” I shouted and then slammed my weapon into the next creature, drawing its aggro on me, letting her get behind it to thrust her dagger into its body.
Twist attacked with blurring motions, plunging her weapon in and out of their flesh in rapid bursts of action. She danced away and thrust at the one fighting Maria. Dëshoma cried out. Arcane energy sizzled. The battled flowed chaotically around us.
Our new rogue's DPS helped us sweep through. A few heals from Dëshoma to blunt the damage we'd taken in the opening attack, including to Kulri who was hit hard before she got up her Arcane Shield, and we'd cleared them. The magical beasts lay dead. Twist had a big grin on her face as she cut off bits of hide and thrust them into her pouch.
She was eager to collect the trash loot from regular mobs. Not to say trash loot wasn't valuable, it just wasn't special. It wasn't used in any crafting nor were they usable items. They were just the loot you sold off to a vendor. Humanoid enemies would give coin, but for verisimilitude; enemies without an interest in commerce would need something else to give you money.
I hadn't paid much attention to the looting, but Twist savored each one. Her eyes were moving like she was doing calculations in her head, figuring out what they were worth, I guess. Was it a stereotype that the rogue was obsessed with money?
Twist fit well in the group during battles. She complimented us when we took on another group of the cultists' befouling—Dëshoma's word—another room. They had transformed a statue of Shuwëmeri into a corrupted, foul thing, her breasts sagging and her face cragged like a crone's. Her pussy had maggots thrusting out of it instead of the inviting hole like the one which'd given me the cock ring.
Maria and I led the battle. Our shields and attacks drew the attention of the cultists. Twist's Vanish let her slip around and start attacking from behind while Kulri supported us all from the rear with her well-placed magical strikes. Dëshoma hovered right behind Maria and myself, ready to drop a Healing Touch if we took a bad hit.
Twist ransacked each cultist's pockets while Dëshoma stood with impatience. How could I get those two to get along? They were diametrically opposed to each other. Twist focused entirely on the now, on what benefited her. Whether it was satiating her own lusts or her desire for wealth.
She poked around the statue and found a cache of jewels we divvied up, Twist looking pleased with herself.
We fought a skirmish with skeletons, not like the ones above, but ones who were carved with angry symbols on their bones. Corrupted runes in Dēmodith, the language of Demons. Dëshoma's lips curled in disgust.
“Feverblight's foul necromancy,” she'd shouted at the start of the battle. “Sacrificial victims the depraved cultists had used in their other perverted rites of decay. Even in death, the miscreants make the innocent suffer.”
At the end, she had knelt and prayed over them in a beautiful tongue. Änjelus, according to Iris, the language of angels and the Gods of Light and Order.
“She was in a big hurry, now she wastes breath over the dead.” Twist tapped her bronze poniard against her arm, shaking her head.
“Lady Dëshoma is helping their spirits move on,” I guessed. “If you were trapped in your own bones and forced to suffer, what would you prefer?”
Twist's tongue flicked out and back in. “I wouldn't be a victim.”
“If only the world were that simple, Twist,” Dëshoma said. “So long as the miscreant Gods of Darkness and Chaos do spread disharmony and discord, strife shall ever afflict itself upon us all. We can but hope we have the strength to stand for righteousness when it comes upon us.”
“Too late,” hissed Twist. “Shall we?”
We hit Level 9 on our next fight, a fight against ghost-faced bats, black-furred creatures the size of bobcats with faces ash-white. They seemed to float down at us out of the dark before we could see their bodies, an unsettling sight. However, they proved no match for our powers.
Level 9 brought an upgrade. I dumped another point into Hard Strike, upping the damage again. And the TP also rose in cost. I didn't care. It was a great finisher or attack to slam into a strong foe. It generated aggro, fixating them on myself and my shield. I would protect my growing party.
My potential harem.
Beyond that find, we came upon a smooth wall of alabaster-sheathed stone. It had a milky gleam. The large door in the center gleamed in the way only gold could. A relief of the fertile goddess standing proud in the center, her hands cupping her tits.
“It's locked,” Twist said, advancing on it.
“You can tell just by looking at it?” I asked, surprised by that revelation.
“Okay, I figure it's looked since there is a keyhole.” She glanced at me and gave me a grin. “These are the obvious things thieves learn. Like water is wet.”
“I'm not above spanking anyone who gives me sass,” I said.
Kulri's ears twitched.
“Save that for the elf. She looks like the type who needs her bottom warmed from time to time.”
The elf didn't respond while Twist knelt down at the lock. She lightly blew at the keyhole. She dipped her hand into her pouch. Like the rest of us, her's held an enchantment to let it hold far, far more than it should. She produced a small bundle of black cloth. She unwound it. It held tools. Lock picks, tension bars, rakes, small files, and what had to be the world's smallest crowbar. She pulled out a tension bar and one of the picks.
I knew a little about lock-picking. There was a time when I was binge-watching those sort of videos on YouTube. She slipped the tension bar, which looked like a flat piece of metal with one end bent at a ninety-degree angle to form a lever. She slipped the shorter end into the lock to provide tension on the tumbler. That way, when she pushed up a pin, the slight turn to the cylinder would keep it from sliding back down and undoing her work.
“Can you do it?” Maria asked.
“Of course I can,” she said. “My hands possess the dexterity of a halfling child.”
She worked the pick in the lock, probing the pins, searching for loose ones. A well-made lock could require the pins to lift up in a certain order, some being stuck while others would have a wiggle. They could have other issues, trick pins.
A pin was just a solid cylinder of metal. Now, if the creator had milled out the middle of it so that it resembled a spool (narrower in the middle), it could trick the thief into thinking she had pushed the pin up enough, but in fact, the bottom flange was still in the way. This was called a false set. Other methods were adding serrated edges to the pin or threading, anything to make it harder to know if you had actually pushed the pin up far enough.
The tension bar wiggled as she worked, as pins she worked up pushed against it. Grinding and popping came from the top. Her tongue thrust out of her mouth, twitching before her as she worked. Kulri stood motionless. Maria trembled. Dëshoma prayed.
“Someone's been through this,” she said. “They used magic. It's damaged some of the pins.”
“Feverblight and his despicable cultists,” said Dëshoma. “The heart of the sanctum must lie beyond. The world's fertility could be threatened by the sacrifice of those two sisters. Maidenly blood has ever been a potent component in dark rituals.”
“Can you get it?” I asked. “Do we need to brute force the door?”
“We cannot,” Kulri said. “The exterior is gold, but beneath that is Elemental Iron. Few metals are that strong in this world.”
“I have it,” Twist said. “One of the pins snapped in half. It's making things difficult. Hard to
push up with my pick but...”
A click.
The tension bar turned ninety degrees. She smiled and pulled it out. “I am good.”
Quickly, she gathered up her tools and put them away. She drew her poniard and plucked a trio of shurikens from her armor straps, holding one each between her fingers. Could she throw all three at once?
I scanned the door. This felt like a boss fight. I stepped up to the door, thrust it open, and charged in ready to fight Feverblight and put an end to his villainy.
Chapter Twenty: The Heart of Corruption
Maria swept into the room at my side, her bronze short sword in hand, a determined look on her face. Her red hair flowed behind her. I gripped my Bloody Bronze Ax in my right hand, my shield set in my left. My chainmail rattled around me as I surveyed the room.
Somehow, a shaft of sunlight landed in the center. An altar lay before another statue of Shuwëmeri. She stood tall and proud, a good thirty feet into the air, her arms thrust out, her breasts mammoth. The carver had captured the trickle of cum running down her thighs from her many lovers, her face full of passion and bliss.
The altar was made of the same white marble as the statue, a large rectangle whose base was carved with all manner of fruits and vegetables. Large pumpkins anchored the display, with piles of apples, ears of corn, melons, gourds, pea pods, and more in between. They were captured with detail, a place of fertile blessing.
About to be perverted.
Two girls lay naked on the altar, each bound at wrists and ankles, arms stretched over their heads. They had the same black hair, one sister with larger breasts than the other. They squirmed as the cultists stood around them chanting in their foul language. They sounded exultant.
Almost ecstatic.
The one holding the knife was taller than the others. He wore a black and rotting robe that hung over a twisted form. Despite his height, he had deformed shoulders and a hunchback. He had his arms raised over his head, one of the serpentine, sacrificial daggers clutched in his hand, fingers tipped in waxy, yellow nails. Around his waist was cinched a belt made of transparent-black discs, small gleams of gold peeking through.