“You will do no such thing!” Tera snapped. “You’re staying with me the whole time!”
“I think it would be unwise for us to break the law the moment we enter the city, Mother,” Justina said practically, fingering her whore’s patch. “So unless you’re relocating your meeting to a brothel, we’re going to have to split up.”
“Take off that fucking patch!” Tera spat, reaching for Justina’s cloak. “You are not—”
“Mom,” Justina said, putting a calming hand atop her mother’s, “I’m almost nineteen, and you still feed me like I’m a babe. We’re not in Towerhead anymore; no one’s coming to burn us, and I need some independence.”
Tera’s hand stilled, and her concerned face softened to one of melancholy. “You’re going to feed yourself, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.
“I am,” Justina said, clasping her other hand atop her mother’s. “It’s time, Mom; it’s well-past time, actually.”
“I should be there for it,” Tera said, her voice verging on tears. “I should be present when you become a woman. You need someone there to—”
Justina pulled her mother into an embrace, and locked lips with the woman. Angela screamed out of Justina’s body as mother and daughter exchanged tongues and spit.
“Goddamn it, Justina!” Angela’s flustered ethereal face yelled from above. “You were supposed to warn me before you tongue-punched your mom’s face!”
Tera could not hear the ghost, but I saw Justina’s consuming lips curve in a slight grin as she drank of her mother’s lust. The two succubi held each other for a moment longer, and then separated, their bronze fingers in their black manes, their violet eyes staring their love.
“I already am a woman, Mom,” Justina smiled, caressing Tera’s face, “now let me be a woman.”
“Ok Justina,” Tera whispered, a tear running down her smiling face, “you’re right; I’ve been too protective. You’re not my baby girl anymore.” She cupped her daughter’s cheek, and then gave her a final kiss, “You and Angela go have fun,” she sniffled, “we’ll meet at the Oxehead’s Inn tonight.”
ASTRID
I’d anticipated that Mistress would make me please her men; she said as much before we left for Drastin. I just didn’t think she was going to make me do it in front of the entire brothel. I stood atop the table I’d just decapitated a man on, and I took off my armor piece by piece to the jeers and whistles of every whore and patron. These wretched creatures were so far beneath me, they were the dregs of the world, commoners without code or honor, yet I was their entertainment. A stronger valkyrie would be furious, my mother would have dealt out justice with cold wrath, but I only felt fear and shame. Bravery isn’t the lack of fear, I told myself, remembering the oaths of the Iona Guard, bravery is facing it.
“Mistress,” I whispered to the corrupted god standing next to me atop the table, “I saved your life.”
“And I’m grateful,” Mistress said, her black and green eyes smirking back up at me, “and this is your reward; look how much everyone loves you! Aren’t you happy to be getting so much attention? Does my reward not please you?”
I was naïve, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say ‘yes.’ I unstrapped the leather that bound my torso, and let it fall to the tabletop. I’d already taken off my shoulder-armor, my calf guards, and the padded skirt that concealed my thighs. All that was left were my breast wrap and loin strap. My audience seemed to think that I was giving them a little strip tease, but in reality, I’d been delaying exposing myself in the vain hope that Mistress would be merciful after I’d saved her. She was not, of course, and my overlong undressing only served to rile up the crowd more. I stared outwardly in half-lucid terror, a fugue state of fear and humiliation where every leering face gawked with wide greedy eyes, and every jeering mouth slurred their tones with malice. They were demons, and I was in the pit of hell. I shakenly hooked my finger beneath the clasp of my chest wrap, and pulled it loose. The crowd cheered as my ample breasts jiggled freely from their prison, my nipples standing erect and pointing lewdly at the audience. I was too ashamed to blush, too humiliated to cast my eyes downward. I looked at everyone and no one as I numbly reached down, and pulled my legs out of the loin strap.
“Astrid of Iona!” Mistress exclaimed to the crowd, gesturing dramatically to my naked figure as the onlookers cheered. I wanted to cover myself with my hands, I wanted to fold my wings over my naked body and hide from the world, but I did not. Mistress was still my god, and I would do what she wanted. I stood stoically atop the table, trying desperately to keep from breaking down and crying. Stay strong, I told myself, endure it like a warrior; don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.
“Well,” Mistress said, looking up at me, “are you going to show your fans your assets?”
“My… what?” I asked, my voice small in my mouth.
“Bend over,” Mistress said cruelly, “and spread your cheeks. Oh, and arch your back a little, and smile, Astrid; we wouldn’t want to give off the impression that you’re not enjoying yourself.”
I turned around, bent until my torso was parallel to the tabletop, reached back, and took a deep breath. I grabbed the succulent fat of my glutes, looked over my shoulder, and glued on a pained smile as I exposed my lewdness to everyone. They cheered louder than ever, and I felt a single tear draw down my cheek, thankfully on the side of my face concealed from the audience. Don’t let them see it.
“Oh,” Mistress cooed in false consolation, wiping the tear from my face, “it’s good to know that this is such a happy moment for you; I was worrying that you didn’t like my gift.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” I said in a shaking voice, my brain seared with the images of the crowd’s predatory faces.
“I got you another present,” Mistress said, portraying a façade of girlish shyness with her hands clasped behind her back, “I hope you like it.”
Her mouth smiled with affection, but her eyes smirked with malevolence; it was a dog collar and leash. I submissively bowed my head for her, and she clasped the last piece of shame around my figure of humiliation. I looked down and saw the word ‘slut’ glinting from the tag that dangled from the collar. Mistress pushed her hand on my backside, and I dropped to my knees like the loyal bitch she’d labeled me as.
Remember the oaths of the Iona Guard, I told myself, ‘though I may die upon the rocks, I will die with my sword in hand.’ You will be taken, but you will not succumb to them. You will endure this, and remain yourself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, whores and johns,” Mistress called, “I present: Gronk, Hacksaw, Flendian and Grunt; the men you’re all wishing you were right now!”
Cheers and applause sounded from the crowd as the four men approached the table at the center of the brothel. Mistress pulled on my collar, and I was forced into a kneeling position with my back held straight; subservient and demure, ready for my gifts. A chill ran up my spine as all of them climbed atop the table together.
“All four of them, Mistress?” I asked, unable to conceal the fear from my demeanor. “At once?!”
“Five if you count me,” Mistress smirked, “or do you not desire me any longer?”
“Of course, I do,” I stammered, feeling my face flush, “but… how?”
In my mind, sex only happened between two people. Never in my wildest nightmares had I imagined an act with more than one other person, much less five! My god was more than willing to explain it to me.
“You have two hands, don’t you?” Mistress asked. I nodded.
“And a mouth,” Mistress said, touching her thumb to my trembling lips, “and a cunt, and last of all, you have an asshole. That makes five, which is just perfect for us.”
I could practically feel myself growing pale. My anus?! Why would anyone want to put anything there?! Oh Great Creators, they’re going to tear me to pieces!
The men made a show of hyping up the crowd, working them into a frenzy as I felt myself growing weak with terror. My stomach churned, my head grew faint, and my heart sank in my chest.
Stay strong; it’s only pain. The men turned around, casting their merciless greedy eyes on me, surrounding my kneeling form, pulling their pants down and showing me the instruments of my torture. Flendian was blessedly normal as far as I could tell, while Grunt was thick and stout, Gronk was way too big, and Hacksaw… there was no way Hacksaw was fitting anywhere, but by the look on his face, I could tell he was going to try. Mistress ranked somewhere between Grunt and Gronk, and I stared fearfully at the thing I once craved for. She tugged on my leash and jerked me forward as Gronk clasped a strong hand about the braided crown of my head. I opened my mouth to scream, and regretted it instantly.
The orc’s cock rammed between my lips, expanded my jaw and buried into my throat. I gagged ferociously, feeling on the verge of vomiting, but my experience with Willowbud the day before saved me from making a mess. His pelvis mushed into my face, and the stink of his loins wafted into my squished nose. Spit leaked from my defiled mouth, tears streaked from my bulging eyes, and a scream choked from my stuffed throat. The crowd roared as Gronk pulled out, strings of spit and precum snapping from my violated lips. I was allowed a precious moment to cough and prepare myself before he grabbed two handfuls of my braids, and rammed in again, and again and again. My hair flailed, my throat gurgled, and my face pressed mercilessly into the flat of his pelvis. Two hands grabbed my own, and I felt my fingers closing around Flendian and Grunt. I stroked them dutifully, rigorously, hoping beyond hope that I could finish them off before they entered me. I felt familiar hands reaching between my legs, and I looked around the bulging piece of meat violating my throat to see Mistress smiling up at me as she positioned herself between my legs. Her hands spread my legs further, and her wonderful heat pushed inside me. For a moment, I felt some of the pleasure I had shared with her the day before, but that joy was dashed when I came to a sickening realization that Hacksaw was walking behind me. NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!
Leave a Reply