I hope you enjoy the third installment. I am truly sorry for the formatting mishap that made chapter three have no themes, and chapter 2 hard to read.
The days are one by one starting to become a blur. Everyday pains don’t seem so bad, and I’m getting numb. And this is bad.
A lot of my work involves lying on my back, so lethargy can go unnoticed for a while, but not forever. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until I awoke from a stupor to find my boss giving me a very scrutinizing look. It was a look that said he was wondering what my cost versus worth is these days. I had seen that look before, reserved for the girls who don’t work well enough anymore.
Those girls tend to disappear without much notice. The general whispered consensus among the rest of us is that they get sold. But who would buy them in that state? It’s also common belief that wherever they go, it’s a lot worse than here. And now the stare is on me, and I just can’t seem to shake myself out of it.
All of this I ponder as I empty the last of the water from my cold bath. My shivering is barely helped by the threadbare towel I use, and goose bumps run rampant on my skin. I hardly even notice the old hallway as I stagger to my room, feeling empty. My frigid body seems to match my new outlook. It wouldn’t be so bad, I think to myself, if I thought it would ever end. But it won’t. On and on, indefinitely, until I’m too old to earn enough money.
Maybe after that I’d be able to get a job in our small kitchen, but I’ve no experience cooking. No I have only one real talent: fucking. And like most people who are specialized in a single talent, I have a body perfect for the job.
I let my towel fall from me and give myself my own scrutiny in my mirror. I gently rub my hands across my waist, and up to my breasts. I gently hold them in my hands, feeling the warmth blossom under my skin. My nipples, held aloft on my perky breasts like pink birds on the highest….err, cloud? Well, poetry isn’t my focus.
I trace my narrow waist and seductive hips, feeling the smooth warmth of my being. A glance in the mirror towards my ass- larger than some of the girls, but round and supple- gives me some satisfaction.
A smile crosses my lips as I trace a finger between my petals, savouring the feel of my warmth. Wet already. Another trait of mine: always being wet on command. And we’re always made tight again, the local cleric sees to that. But, still. I was always quite elastic, there.
But all highs must have lows, and this small rush of self-admiration leads me inexorable back to the question haunting me: How long can my body last?
I sag back onto the bed, and contemplate the ceiling. I can feel the numbness setting back in, in mind and body. I’m stuck here.
Oddly, despite all the stress, I manage to drift into a peaceful slumber, and dream.
I find myself standing in a forest, maybe the forest outside of our fences. Soft moss is under my feet, nicer than any carpet I’ve ever been on and mellow light pierces the leaf canopy, and gives gentle illumination to the world around. I look about this peaceful weald, and see that I’m surrounded by animals.
Wolves to my left, and horses before me, elk to my right, boars and rabbits, dogs and bulls- all intermingled. They stand all about me, staring. And each one is, down to the very last, a male. I can tell, because each one has a prominent erection. Hundreds of animals, creatures in all directions, each one is hard. And staring.
I look before me again, and see a woman. An elf.
She stands before me, and I feel physically stricken by her beauty. Her creamy skin is gorgeous and unblemished, and shows seductively through her pale yellow dress. The dress- if something so revealing should be called that- is the most delicate of silks, as smooth as her skin.
Her hair is long and golden yellow, swirled up into complex patterns around and behind her head, held in with black ribbons.
Her full lips glisten in the light, with the sides curved into a suggestive smile. Her crystal blue eyes, though, seem to pierce into my soul and suggest that she knows everything about me. He voluptuous breasts seem to peek through her golden yellow dress that barely conceals her.
Her arms are narrow, as are her hips, and her stance screams confidence.
For the first time in my life, I look upon a female and feel lust. A slow tingle working up from my pelvis, spreading gentle warmth. I feel enamored- and jealous.
She points one hand to a group of these animals. Her words ease from her lips like honey flowing out of a hive, “Do you know what these are?”
I just stand there, staring at her. There seems to be nothing else in the world but her words sliding along my spine, electing goose bumps like the whispered words of a lover.
“These, dear girl,” she continues, “are men.”
Finally I break free from her piercing eyes- or perhaps she simply chooses to release me, and I see that they are men. All of the animals are gone, now. They’ve all been replaced by males of every race I can think of- humans, orcs, gnomes, goblins, elves… everything. Each one is still achingly hard, but as I watch they sink to their knees.
They grovel on the ground around our feet, whimpering and moaning. I recognize the moan- it’s one that is begging for release, for sexual gratitude. They squirm on the ground, and beg in every language imaginable.
Then, as I watch, they become animals again; transitioning in the way that only happens in dreams.
“Do you see?” she asks, dragging my eyes back to hers. “They are but animals. They have no real power. They control nothing but the realms of their imagination.”
These words are all too confusing for me. “I, I don’t understand,” I lament. “What does that mean?”
Her smile combines compassion and lust- a hefty combo- and she whispers to me once more. “Amariel, I see so much of myself in you. You are, in your existence, a representation of me. In your past, you were but a creature of lust. Now, you will be trickery, and in time shall be revenge.”
I don’t even have an answer to that, but the word revenge coils about my body, bringing seductive heat, making me boil.
“Amariel, soon your time will come. But until then, you must continue in your life.” Her fiery voice burns me, bringing my blood to a boil, promising so much.
“But how can I keep serving?” I finally cry out. “How can I keep being someone’s slave?” The heat in my body is horrendous, and I feel like crying and yelling all at once. And feel also an odd sensation building within me- rather uncalled for.
“Amariel, they do not rule you, but for when you allow them. Be the master of your own soul. At the moment of need, you will call on me, and you will rise above. Until then, you must pretend you are but a normal girl, a simple slave. You’ve pretended to be other people before, and this is your biggest role.” The world starts becoming dark, fading around us. Darker and darker, until just her and I are together. Then she, too, fades.
As she disappears, that heat in me scorches from the inside, threatening to disintegrate me. It burns lower, and I feel my body convulsing and writhing as terrible pain and pleasure pulsate through my body, making me cry out again and again. An orgasm, perhaps one of the most intense in my life, overtakes me, and I ride on the high of ecstasy.
At last, I hear just her voice. “You must wait, and then you will have what you’ve always longed for…”
My eyes snap open, and I see just my room. I feel hot, sweaty. My forehead burns with what could be a fever- but I know better. A quick slide of my finger across my pussy reveals that I indeed came during my sleep- and seem to have made quite a mess!
I settle back into my pillow, one of the only ones with much of any fluff in it, and await the afternoon when I’ll get up again (since I work mostly at night, I sleep during sections of the day). I know sleep won’t come, but I’ve a lot to think about…
* * *
Today, I have the distinct pleasure of being fucked by a dwarf. Now, I’m not going to say dwarves are good lovers- they’re not. I’m not going to say that they’re innovative lovers- they’re not.
But as I feel him push his prick into me for the four-hundredth time, I realized that they have one good thing going from them: consistency. It’s been twenty minutes of steady fucking so far, and he’s changed speeds twice, and we haven’t changed positions. I suppose it’s a good time for musing and meditating, and a girl can’t really complain about a dwarf’s stamina.
Every minute with him is a minute I won’t be tending a more horrid client.
My hands roam his thick body hair while I push my hips back against his thrusts. Each rhythmic penetration brings me closer to a state of Zen. I never quite get tired of having orgasms, but there are only so many that are fit to be had in a row.
My eyes slowly close as I time a thrust with his, feeling him slide into me, pushing me open around him. My lips grind against his base for a moment before the motion is reversed and he slides back out, pulling sensations from all along my insides.
A soft moan slowly escapes my parted lips, and I clench my fingers into his skin, holding tightly.
The motion repeats, and I feel his head grind up along my sweet canal, plunging into my depths. My liquids slowly escape around him, puddling along the curves of my ass.
I can feel his back muscles clench as he pushes into me again, filling me up for the thousandth time, it seems. A sly grin crosses my face as I hear him grunt a strangled sound- the sound of a man amazed by sensations.
“Ooh, yes,” I moan with my lips against his ear. “I knew you dwarves go dig deep, but I didn’t know how deep.”
His breathing is starting to sound ragged, and I know that pretty soon this mine is going to flood. I can feel those steady steams of pleasure flowing out through my body, making me feel high, and content.
I clench myself tightly, and still his pierces me again and again, pressing his member into my tight folds, wiping my fluids and his precum around my insides. I thrust back harder, making a loud slapping sound as my hungry body devours his meat. But now his thrusting is getting faster, the rhythm not so perfect.
And in the end, I think to myself, I can take away their concentration, too.
I take a single hand along his hairy chest and throw my head back, and let out a loud moan. “Ooooh, yes! Oh, by the gods, you’re the best!”
My body writhes, and I gyrate my hips in circle as he plunges into me again and again, the loud slaps filling the room.
“Ooh,” I moan again, exaggerating my sensations, “the only things dwarves are better at than forging is fucking!”
Though half-closed eyes I can see him flush slightly. I know all of my clients’ buttons, and how to press them. For dwarves, it’s pride.
His eyes screw shut and he thrusts harder now, hard enough to make me slide across the bed slightly each time he spears into my wet heat. I spread my legs even wide to brace myself, and coo to him. Dwarf females are quiet, almost cold during sex, so male dwarves like a fiery attitude.
I feel him, iron-hard inside of me, slapping in again and again. His thrusts are so desperate, his breathing so quick that I know he’s close.
I keep myself clenched as tightly as possible and pushing my pelvis into his, timing it with his thrusts, making sure I keep his penis in me as much as possible.
At last, I feel him widen out further for just a moment, and he slams into me forcefully enough to make me gasp. As he wedges himself into my tight hole, I feel his stiff member give a strong jerk in my insides, then another.
He pulsates rapidly, and his breath catches as his first load of cum escapes his body. It exists with some force, and spews out in a great volley of hot cum, splashing onto my cervix. He keeps himself rigidly still, our bodies pressed hard together, and he pulsates and fires off another geyser of his semen, pumping it hard and fast into my waiting body. Dwarves cum a lot at a time, like orcs, but a dwarf’s semen is much thicker, almost an ooze in its texture.
His breath escapes him like a deflating balloon, I cry out in exaggerated joy as he twitches and dumps the last of his fluids into me, filling me rather thoroughly. At last the throbbing slows to a stop, and he stays in his raised position above me.
After a moment of re-catching his breath, he smirks and me and grunts, “I betcha ya elves didn’ think we dwarfs was so good a’ fuckin’, did ya?”
“Mm,” I moan, slowly grinding his still-hard penis. “If we knew dwarves were so good, we could have been doing this for centuries.”
Now, he’s not the best lover I’ve ever had. And I don’t think elves give a raven’s shit about how good dwarves are at sex, but he doesn’t need to know any of that. If he goes away happy, he can tip well, and maybe come back again. I have the highest amount of repeat customers of all the girls here.
Then again, I also have the highest amount of non-repeat customers. I just have the most.
And, for now, I’ll permit them to have their way, to think they own me. They don’t, but they don’t know it yet- only I do. That’s my power I have over them.
As the dwarf replaces his clothing and chainmail and departs, I grin to myself. Not from the afterglow of sex- although it wasn’t bad sex- but from the knowledge of my desires finally coming true. Soon, she said.
* * *
Days drip past like the semen from me after I’m done my work, but they pass all the same. The clients come, cum, and go. Many humans, an elven couple, another half-elf (who really needed more comforting than fucking, but I kindly gave her both), and even a gnome.
Gnomes are always interesting to work with. Not much of size to them, but they often come to test out their own homemade toys. I never even knew you could do that with three yards of lattice, a scared turkey, three cogs and a cucumber.
But today, I’m starting my afternoon off with a bang. I’ve got two human clients- at the same time, of course- and anal is definitely on the list of activities. And so, here I am, slowly working a reasonably sized dildo into my puckered hole.
See, everyone likes how tight asses are, but no one actually likes to go through the time of slowly stretching them. This lead to a lot of people forcing the issue, and a lot of girls feeling torn up. A girl who is bleeding is a girl who can’t work for the rest of the day, so boss eventually decided that we should just start ourselves off in the morning, so things can go more quickly later.
I breathe in deeply, filling my lungs with the stale basement air. As I slowly exhale, my muscles all relax,
and I slide the toy a few more inches in past my seal. Unlike a male, I can do this more efficiently, since I don’t have the desire to move it around a lot for my own pleasure. Gently pushing against it, I forcibly relax my anus, and the toy slips in up to the handle.
I clench around it for a moment, getting used to the feeling. It’s important to be ready to deal with whatever the client throws at or in you. A moment later, I slide the lubed toy outwards, and sigh in relief at the emptiness. I’ve never really liked the feeling of toys, but the system is balanced this way.
With quick movements I add on layers- but not many. My second best pair of underwear (the lacy gauze with bowties is reserved for the high rollers). And a dress that’s simple, elegant, revealing, and easily removed. And now, my day starts for real.
I glide up the stairs, and boss tells me with a quick gesture that the two clients are already in a room. The second staircase goes by, and I stop for a moment outside of the door to the room. I quickly double check my hair, adjust my bra, and make sure one strap is off of a shoulder. Then I ease the door open soundlessly, and enter.
The two men, as one, look up. I give them a meek smile, like I was feeling quite shy, and grins light up their faces.
The two men are both tall, and have the darker skin tones of the desert-dwelling people. Perhaps from the great city of Ambule, though neither one looks rich enough. Each is dressed in much cotton, and a bit of leather- no clothing of rich people. But their smiles are pearly white.
They both have strong jaws and narrow chins, and the resemblances are striking. Brothers, I decide.
As I swing the door closed and sashay forward, one of the men springs to his feet. His grin is widest, and by other’s patient attitude, I imagine they’re taking turns.
I gently glide forward- my hips swaying as I go- and get closer to the first man. With a delicate maneuver, I wrap my arms around his neck, and get quite close. I breathe in deeply, taking in his rich scent of exotic spices, and look into his eyes with all the lust I can visually muster.
His breath instantly gets quicker, and I can feel his pulse getting quick beneath his skin. I trace a gentle finger down his shirt front, running it slowly down his chest, slowly downwards. As I pass his navel and move inexorably downwards, his breath comes raggedly.
I slide my palm down the front of his trousers, and feel his length through them. Already, as I just begin to fondle it, I can feel it getting hard in my hand. I rub over the hard organ through the rough pants, and grin a private grin to myself.
I slide my hand gently back up, to his belt line, and stray for a moment there, teasing his stomach skin and hips with my fingers. Then slowly I undo the drawstring, and softly- slowly- trace my fingers down past the waist.
As I rub my hand along his uncovered rod, now pointing towards me against his pants, his breath rushes in, and catches for a moment. I stroke his hard member, savoring the feeling of that soft skin. Funny, how no matter what a man looks like, or how his body’s shaped, the all have that same soft, vulnerable skin.
I look into the man’s eyes- barely above my own. His eyes are a deep brown, and seem to try to bore into my own. But they’re nothing compared to the woman in my dreams.
“Look at that,” I whisper, ever so coyly. “You seem to have gotten hard. What shall we do about that?”
His eyes gleam with desire, and I grin again as I slowly lower myself to my knees, pulling his trousers and underwear down with me. As the waistband slides past his erection, it springs up and bounces a bit, eliciting a well-practiced, “delighted” giggle from me.
His stiff member is pointing right to me, and I forward- slowly, as ever- as give it a slight kiss on the very tip. I lean back, and see a string of precum between it and me. I give another giggle, and lick the salty fluids from my lips. And with glistening lips I look right up into his eyes and gently extend a tongue to the tip of his penis.
I swirl it lightly across the tip, and his eyelids flutter, as if trying to close. My entire mouth is flooded with that salty taste of precum, but I press on.
Gently I lick the underside of his cockhead, playing on that sensitive skin. I lean myself under him, sliding my lips against his penis, rubbing his sideways along my lips. Now I flick my tongue again, tasting the skin around the base of his penis. He groans, a sound of desire, and I set it on him.
Playful kisses and licks abound, as I flow up and down his member in a swirl of activity. Teasing, still, I lick all the way from base to tip, making him shake slightly. I look up to his eyes again, meeting them and keeping them, and gently place my lips against his head. I give a faint suck, getting more precum, and making him moan in desire. I can tell he’s going crazy from the teasing, but I make him wait just a bit longer.
Another I lick the skin below his head, gently lavishing his whole circumference with attention, and I know he must be nearly frustrated. So again I slide up his rod, and put my lips just against the tip of him, making him tremble. I gently suckle at the tip, making sure he really wants it. I take a quick breath, and then I give it to him- all at once.
I part my lips and plunge forward, swallowing down his cock right to my throat, where I expertly stretch those muscles and engulf his member all the way up to the base. In that one movement, he’s now all the way down my throat and I slide forward gently, making my lips press against his pelvis.
“Uh,” he stammers, as if trying to communicate some great idea. “Uhh.”
I’m used to men being stunned by my skills, so I pay him no mind. He’s really not important. For the moment, all that matters is making sure his penis is pleased, and the rest will follow.
And so I take my eyes from his, and focus on said penis. I slide off it slightly, putting the head just at my tonsils. Then with deft movements, I lick the underside of his shaft, swirling around its length.
Then with a gentle bob, I move backwards and forwards, letting my tongue play along his member while still in my mouth- combining all of the best parts of a blowjob. I suck at it while I move my tongue, providing more stimulation than your average man can possibly sort out what to do with. I get another resounding “Uh” from the man above.
Again I lean forward and swallow in in a single gulp, feeling his head slide past my tonsils and into my throat. Like a good piece of meat, he seems to fill me to the stomach.
He doesn’t, of course, reach even close to my stomach.
I lean back and slurp a bit as my spit dribbles down his hard-on, preceding my mouth by seconds as I swallow him up again.
Above, his hands are starting to act sporadically, waving and gesturing, and I know that this portion has gone far enough. I slowly release him from me, inch by tasty inch, running my tongue along him all the while. At last he slides from my sucking mouth with a slight popping noise, and his glistening dick bobs up and down in front of me.
I rise gracefully to my feet and gently take one of his hands, and lead him to the bed. With a single motion he removes his shirt and pitches it across the room, narrowly dodged by his brother.
The man gives me a push, slightly rougher than I expected, and I fall back onto the bed with an “ouf!” of surprise. Just rough enough to be kinky.
The man stands above for a minute, then his hand snakes out, and flutters up my leg, seizing the string of my amazingly thin thong. He pulls it away and yanks it off of me, glancing at it for but a moment before pitching it the same direction as his shirt. Hey! I think, I took a lot of time to pick that out. You could have at least appreciated the sight of it on me!
He leans down over me, and takes hold of a breast, kneading it lightly through my dress. Then he takes the strap of the dress with that same hand, and pulls it down, past my shoulder.
With both straps off, he pulls the top of my dress, until it’s down around my stomach. Then he removes the bra that barely covers me, and handles my exposed breasts. His hands are rough, but not painful, and he smiles faintly as most men do at the feel of my tender womanflesh.
Then with swiftness, his hands swing down to my hips, and he twists me, rolling me towards my stomach. I respond quickly and roll with his movements. As soon as I’m over, I get my knees under me, presenting my ass to his attention. His hands start exploring immediately, groping my succulent ass through the thin fabric of my dress.
Currently, my dress is rolled down on top, exposing my breasts, but still draping around by thighs. He quickly remedies this.
He grabs my dress by the hem and lifts it above my cheeks, exposing my backside. Again his hands did their exploring. This time, they were directed much more towards my exposed pussy. His fingers traced along their pink lips, glistening and ready, and a grunt of approval is all of the compliment I get. He shuffles forward onto the bed slightly, and removes one hand from my body so he can guide himself towards me.
My dress is crumpled but still around my waist, and I can’t help but feel slightly offended that he didn’t even bother to finish undressing me. He just uncovered his favorite bits.
I spread my legs of further, making myself nice and exposed, and wiggle slightly. I always try to tease a little- it makes the real thing that much better.
He doesn’t fool around, though, and I feel his cockhead go straight to my slick hole, ready to start. I give a mental sigh. I kind of like it when they work themselves up to it.
Instantly he pushes against me, with some degree of force, and starts sinking in rapidly. No slow stretching for this man, he wants it all now. He gives another small thrust, then another, each one pushing him deeper into me.
As the thousandth man slowly eases his cum-stick into my used-but-fresh-looking hole, I wonder what romantic sex is like. It’s probably the same, but takes longer.
He gives another shove, and I feel his mons pubis press into my rear. He’s as deep as he can be. I lift my upper body up and support myself with my arms, pressing my rear against him. He groans slightly as I grind backwards, working him slightly deeper still as I crush myself against him.
Then, both of his hands grip my hips, and I brace myself. With a swift motion he pulls back, not even halfway, then slaps into me unceremoniously. I clench for a moment in surprise at the unexpected speed, and he grunts appreciably again. He shifts back and thrusts himself into me, burying his hard pole its full length into my pink chasm. My juices squish around him as he spears into me again, slamming me with some force.
He slides back out and lances himself in before a girl could even miss him. I try my best to press back against him as he thrusts again, but it’s hard to time myself with his erratic motions.
Slapping sounds fill the room as he mercilessly pounds away into my soft flesh, shoving his wide head into my glistening treasure again and again. His fingers dig into my round ass, and he starts working up to full thrusts, going almost out, then back in.
Each time he slides back, I can feel his head in perfect details, and his deep thrusts send sensations pulsing up my spine. I lean my head back a bit, letting out a slight moan. For all the roughness, it’s still enjoyable.
I feel his fingers of one hand dance through my hair for a moment, and then seize a handful. Burning fire seems to spread across my scalp as he pulls my hair.
The sudden pain makes my whole body tense, getting even tighter for him. He sinks his thick meat into my clenching depths with a loud slapping sound. He grips my ass and hair tightly, pulling at them like reins as he fucks me like a dog. He stills says nothing to me, only grunting as he pounds my poor body.
Already I’m starting to sting there from the sudden entrance and rough treatment, and my scalp aches from the hair-pulling, and still the rhythmic slap, slap, slap, continues.
His other hand is lifted from my ass for a moment, finally releasing its death-grip. It returns suddenly with a loud SLAP sound as he spanks me. I cry out in pain (and mild outrage), and tense again. He just keeps pushing that tip into me over and over, using my body.
He grunts again and starts thrusting even faster, pumping in and out of me like a piston. His hand releases my hair and he holds me with it. The other hand he presses into my upper back, pushing me down until my face is in the blankets. He keeps pounding away at my upraised pussy, though.
Both hands on my hips, he remorselessly plunders my depths, hammering away with hard thrusts. His hands grip painfully, and he grunts loudly. Somehow he finds it in him to fuck me even faster, pumping like it’s his last day. His breathing starts hitching, and he gets even harder inside of me.
Again he slaps my ass hard enough to bruise and I cry out, mostly pain this time. As my body naturally clenches from the sudden pain, he suddenly cries out a sound of ecstasy.
I feel his prick suddenly start throbbing as he pounds away madly, and he shoves forcefully into me, bringing a load of semen with his throbbing head.
Its sudden heats both jars and soothes me, and I feel constant pulsations pumping his load of milky seed into me, splashing over my walls and towards my womb. Each brutal slam of cock into vagina unleashes more cum, soaking my insides with his body’s slimy fluids. At last his thrusting slows, and I feel just a bit more of his mixture ooze into me, and start overflowing around his member.
Drops of our juices dribble down my lips and slide down my thighs, even with him still hard inside of me. When he slides his sopping dick out, not much more drips out, since my body is still so upright.
I turn my head to see what’s going on behind me, and I notice the other brother stepping forward, already naked. His erection is glistening with cream.
With barely a moment’s delay between the two, he’s up behind me, assuming a position almost identical to his brothers. His cock, though, is pressing against my anus, slowly prodding at my puckered hole.
He manages to get the tip in without much trouble, and he starts slowly working in. He’s thinner than his brother, which is a relief, but it seems like his is longer. With gradual thrusts, he works his way into my anal passage, delving deeply into a place considered taboo by many.
When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back and thrusts again, and starts fucking me with shallow thrusts. Not even a minute’s gone by since his brother’s ejaculation, and he’s already feeling the tightness of my body.
His thrusts slowly work themselves deeper, until I can feel his pubic hair pressing against my anal ring each time he sinks his long shaft into my hole. The lubrication makes everything move quickly, and before long he builds up a rhythm.
Each time he pulls back, it feels like my insides are being dragged out with him, only to be shoved back in with his hard cock.
His thrusts are quick, but not as rough as the last man’s, and he has a better sense of rhythm. I do my best to push myself against him, but my body is still stinging from the last man, and my motions aren’t quite so confident. My body tenses with his thrusts, and sometimes a bit of the goop from my sloppy vagina will spill down onto my calves, or splash onto this man’s testicles.
His thrusts are quick and deep, but he only does small thrusts, keeping most of his penis in me. My ring tingles with sensation as he slides in and out of it, making at least some good feelings to balance out my other hole.
I reach back with a hand and gently cup his testicles, lightly rolling them as he thrusts, encouraging him.
Inside of me, I can feel a large amount of fluids being swished around as the man rocks my body. I can feel the still-hot liquids oozing around inside of me, and wish I could have a shower.
The man whose prick is in my ass, though, is too busy fucking my hole to notice any movement of cum. His hands massage and clasp my cheeks, adding soft sensations. Anal sex rarely makes me cum, but I certainly enjoy the feeling of the cock nestling itself inside of my crevice.
Knowing that my body is opened up for him, I decided to clench a bit, to keep things fresh. I tighten my anal muscles, squeezing his cock with my body. He groans above me, evidently enjoying the tighter sensation.
He starts thrusting faster now, and I curl myself a bit to bring my ass even higher, making things level with him.
He just pounds away, seemingly unaware that I’m a separate entity, so I start gently rubbing my clit. The lips of my vagina are stinging, but the rest is working, so I masturbate while he fucks me. I know I won’t cum like this, but it feels better than just lying here.
His thrusts are long and deep, now, fucking me fully. I time my rubbings with each time his shaft buries itself to the base inside of me, relishing the feel of him pressing his pelvis against my ass cheeks.
As to be expected when someone’s in my ass, I can already feel him getting more erratic and less controlled. He speeds up his rhythm, slapping into me. His balls swing like a flail and slap into my vagina with each thrust, and I feel his fingers start clenching.
He starts grunting now, and I feel his pace get faster. I clench myself even tighter, trying to make my canyon as narrow for his intruder as I can.
He seems to get even hotter inside of me, and harder than before, and his fingers dig in like he’s afraid he’ll fall off. With amazing speed he pounds into my ass. Tossing his head back he gives a long moan, and I can feel his shaft start to throb inside of my rectum.
He buries himself forcefully into me in time with his eruption, and hot cum flies deeply into my body, dripping and gushing down the convoluted passages. He slides back and thrusts into my sloppy hole again, letting off another pulsating load of sperm. His seed is wasted in my anal depths, but he empties it all into me, just the same. He presses in tightly and twitches as the last of his liquids are milked out by his muscular contractions.
His motions cease and he simply kneels there, balls deep. His semi-hard penis is still in my body, and I can feel two different sets of cum in two different holes, both held in place. Then at last he slides out and steps back, and I unfurl from my uncomfortable position. I bring myself into a sitting position on the bed, feet on the floor.
There’s a gurgling sound as thick slime starts bubbling out from both holes, pooling onto the blanket. As my body starts emptying itself of the hot mess inside of it, I notice the first man is starting to look excited again.
With a grin I beckon him forward, and take his semi-limp penis into my hand. It’s a hot, comfortable weight, and I gently fondle it, stroking the length and playing with its head. He groans slightly, and I maintain a nice, slow speed of rubbing its length.
Meanwhile, the other man is rummaging through a large bag that they brought in the room with them. Looking for a toy?
I lean forward and gently engulf the first man’s cockhead again, holding the head in my mouth. Already blood’s rushing back in, and I can feel it starting to get hard and twitchy.
With a quick move I swallow his length, and slowly ease him back out. I can feel his thick length starting to swell inside of my mouth, and I suck on him gently. He tastes strongly of his cum and my juices, a strong flavour. Gently I grasp his thighs with each hand, and work on deepthroating.
He’s fully erect, so I have to work a bit to get his length down my throat, but he’s no real challenge. I work my lips down his shaft, feeling his head pass my tonsils and squeeze into the muscular throat beyond. I stop for a moment with my lips around his base, pubes in my nose. He grunts above me, and I know he loves the feeling. I’m rather enjoying it myself.
I press my face harder against his crotch and try to swallow, making my muscles convulse around his head, and his breath catches. I’m as good as people get, and people should have to kill for a chance with me.
I slowly pull back, letting him slide from my throat. Back in my mouth, where he’s more manageable, I start rhythmically swirling my tongue around the bottom side of his penis, making him twitch. Then, deftly, I combine this motion with bobbing up and down, and I can tell I’m the best he’s ever had.
His breath slowly drains out of him, and he slips his hands into the soft folds of my hair, gently holding the back of my head.
With guiding motions, he pulls me down, making me slide down his shaft and swallow his dick. In my throat again, he stands rock-hard. He gently pulls, and I slowly glide back up, feeling his shaft slide backwards through my lips. With just his head in my mouth and my lips around that ridge, I gently suck again and start rubbing my tongue along that smooth surface. He moans again, lost in the moment.
Yet again I greedily gulp down his penis under his motions, and let him bob my head up and down on him.
With his hands in my hair, he probably thinks he’s in control. But he’s not.
Enjoying my new, daring thoughts, I suck and bob more enthusiastically, swirling my tongue in lines of pleasure. His fingers grip my hair harder, clenching onto me for support.
Again he pushes down on my head and I take his whole length into my throat, swallowing around it. He pulls back and brings me midway up his shaft, where I lick back and forth across the bottom. With small jerks he sets my head bobbing, slowly sliding up and down on his meat.
His motions to guide my head start getting jerky as he gets me to move even faster. Both of his hands clench the back of my head firmly, and I feel his shaft tense up in my mouth.
I slide my lips up and down that smooth skin of him, letting my tongue play on his wire-tight nerves. His hands start shaking and I feel his iron-hard member start throbbing in my mouth. I don’t slow my rhythm at all, bobbing and sucking on his pulsating member as he groans a warning- as if I didn’t know.
I feel the first wave of cum jettison from him into my mouth, filling me with the hot, bittersweet taste of his fluids. I swallow hard, feeling it slip down my throat, almost in time with his next coating of semen he fires down my throat. With a swift motion I engulf him, taking his head down into my throat. From here, I feel his member throbbing wildly in my mouth, emptying the last of his seed down my open throat.
Once he seems done, I slide back and work on his head, sucking and swirling with my tongue. He jumps and twitches from the sensations as I get the last of his cum.
I lean back, with a small string of spit between me and his finished penis. At this point, he speaks to his friend the first words I’ve heard from either all night: “Mihad, did you bring the main part of tonight’s entertainment?”
Figuring this for a clue, I let him slide from my mouth to look at this ‘entertainment’. As his perhaps-brother holds up the object, I feel my jaw drop.
In one hand, he holds a set of manacles. There’s nothing new about these, plenty of clients enjoy kink. It’s the set of pliers in his other hand that worry mean. And the various implements now lined up on the bedside table, whose various edges and points serve a purpose I don’t want to understand.
Why would someone even own a whip?
The second one speaks for the first time, in a rough accent, “Now, girlie. This will hurt a bit. Or a lot. But don’t worry- well, or do. That’s half the fun.” A cruel grin crosses the face that seemed kind but a few moments ago, and I feel panic in my chest. The man beside me grasps my left wrist, grinning, and reaches for my right.
Blood pounding, I dash towards the door, but he just pulls my arm and keeps me from moving. His grin, too, seems manic and evil. “Now, now,” he says, “let’s not go ruining the fun, hm?”
I stare into his eyes for a moment, and decide he’s probably not worth negotiating with.
I kick out with blinding speed in a direct arc, smashing my foot into his exposed crotch. As my foot connects with his body, his eyes bulge- much like his ejaculation face, I imagine. He clasps his genitals, as if it would stop the pain, and sinks to his knees. On your knees, just like me.
Before that second man can join in, I bolt out the door, running down the stairs on strong legs.
I pull my dress straps over my shoulders before it can trip me up, and jump the last three steps to the
middle landing. Before me is the main room, full of clients and a couple of bouncers. There’s no way I can make it past them. To my right is the staircase that leads back downstairs- but that would be trapping myself.
There’s a back exit through the kitchen, so with barely a moment’s pause I dash to my left. Behind me I can hear an angry man’s voice- definitely one of the brothers- bellowing out curses and threats.
Flying through the kitchen doorway, I take in the scene in a heartbeat: there are two cooks- one is a prostitute on her day off- but neither are by the cooking area. They’re crowded near the back door, where an orcish bouncer is currently grappling with a man who’s tried to sneak in through the back. The two cooks, a server, and the two fighting men are all clumped by the door, and I’ve no way past.
The man shouts again from behind me, and I know I’m nearly out of time. My heart is pounding away like a bird trying to free itself from its cage and I run to the only place I can- the pantry closet.
I sprint past the mob and through that side door, slamming it closed behind me. Everyone in the kitchen settles down at the sound of the door being shut.
My eyes adjust to the gloom quickly, and I lock the door. Then, with some grunting, I manage to get the thick wooden bar off of the floor and slide it into its slot on the door, keeping it from being knocked in.
I lean against the door for a moment, catching my breath. Outside there’s a commotion as new people are no doubt rushing into the room looking for me.
The door between us is stout, strong wood, with a thick beam to bar it. I know it’s a tough door, because our boss had it brought in special. He never said why he had this small room with a tough door that can be locked from the inside. A room that has only a couple of small windows, both too small for me to crawl through.
But we had figured it out. People outside are shouting at me, trying to get me to open the door, make me come out. So many voices all at once, yet I feel peaceful.
I can feel the slow dripping of cold semen seeping out of me, and the wetness on my legs tells me that most of it is already on me. Still I wait, finding my calm. Everyone outside goes quiet, and all I can hear is the occasional drip of liquids dripping from me onto the floor.
Then, strong voice calls from outside the door. “Amariel! You open this door right now!”
There’s no mistaking that gruff, dwarven voice. The man who owns me. The man who THINKS he owns me is more like it.
That liberating thought hits me and helps keep me calm as he tries to intimidate me into opening the door. But he’ll have no such luck. I know why he built this room. He was always afraid of a bandit attack, or of the empire coming to arrest him. So he built this room as a final place to hide, and also an escape route.
I turn to one of the cabinets where I’ve seen lines in the dust.
Moving to the side of it, I press my shoulder against it, hesitating for a moment. Then I push.
I push until my legs start feeling strained and my shoulder aches, then at last I feel movement. It slides a bit, then a bit more. Inch by inch I slide the cabinet along its tracks. It lets out a horrid, rusty screech as it moves along the tracks, and again everyone beyond the door becomes quiet.
Then boss speaks again: “Amariel, dear,” he says in a sweet voice. “Come out, dear. Don’t worry about anything. You’re safe, I promise. I’ll keep you safe. Just come out.”
His words may offer kindness, but I know his heart is cruel and cold. Anything promised now is a lie, and I keep pushing. Slowly the piece of furniture slides the rest of the way off, and I feel first tired. But then, as I look down at the wooden trap door, I feel victory. At last, here I am! Just beyond this door is no doubt a passage that will lead me to some distant-
Then I feel a third thing: defeat. My eyes settle on the thick padlock on the door, locking it closed. Just looking at the thing, I know I have no chance of breaking it without tools.
Everything inside me seems to slide down, and I feel empty. I just stare at the thrice-damned lock, and know I’m stuck. I keep staring, while in the background my once-boss offers me freedom, money, and even sweets. At last he falls silent again, and I shuffle over to the door.
Pressing my back against the wood, I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. I can hear him talking on the other side of the door, to one of his assistants. “…get the axe,” he tells him.
I imagine I wasn’t supposed to hear that. So those are my options: come out willingly, or wait for him to cut his way to me. Either way, it’s back to slavery.
Behind me, he starts cajoling again. But now I can hear him getting angry. I’ve run away to save myself, and he’s angry. What right does HE have to be angry? What’s he got to complain about? A dozen slaves, a corrupt cleric, corrupted local guards… he has everything he needs.
As I think about how he has everything, I can’t help but feel angry at him. He’s bought many young girls, made us into slaves. Forced us to fuck. Again my heart is starting to pound, and I can feel adrenaline start pounding. He takes away everything we have, our hopes and dreams, and then forces us to be humiliated over and over. Then, when we start feeling down, he rents us out to the worst of the clients- the dangerous ones.
Delicious rage starts trickling through my veins, pulsing through my body. The tingles start in my extremities, and buzz their way down to my core, making me feel like my skin is vibrating. My breathing is ragged as my blood pounds, and I feel high on the anger.
And then, to top it all off, he thinks HE has the right to be angry? That HE should be getting back at ME? Not today.
My eyes drift up to the ceiling, and it feels as if I can pierce through it to see the sky beyond. “It’s my turn for revenge!” I shout, my voice echoing off the walls.
I hear more muffled discussion, and the dwarf yells “that’s it, you whore! You have until three to open the door, or I’ll cut my way in!”
My blood pounds, and rage burns from my heart to my toes. My entire soul seems to seethe with wrath, and still his voice cuts in. “One…”
I close my eyes, and see the most peculiar thing: a door. It is, by any standards, a large door. And I see myself before it, standing before the towering edifice. Colours swirl around my body- blues, greens and purples, and an awful lot of red- like a multi-hued fire.
The door feels important. All is silent as I stare at it. His gruff voice pierces it all, saying “Two”. This makes up my mind, and I push against the door. It opens a tiny crack, but I can’t see beyond it. I push as hard as I can, and this door in my head opens slightly more. Beyond it there seems to be absolutely nothing. An almost physical nothing.
Then another peculiar thing happens- my colours leave me. They start slowly draining through the door. The blues, greens, purples, and yellows all stay. But the red starts slipping through it.
I feel my anger starting to leave me, dissipating. But I push as hard as I can on that door, and it opens enough to almost fit through. The red starts being pulled through even faster, and I start feeling empty. I can’t bring myself to open that door, but I feel something from me being pulled in.
That damned hateful voice calls through my haze again. “Three!”
Another flare of red seems to surround me, only to be pulled through the door as my anger is drained.
I look around at the rest of the world around this door, and I see horrible things. They seem to lurk on all sides of me, but I can’t quite see them. A figure dances just in my peripheral vision- a creature of claws and teeth and thick fur. A horrid beast. But all these shapes seem to be pulled towards this mysterious door, and all things seem to be pulled through. Now, the door begins opening on its own, and a shadow against darkness can be seen, pressing…
I hear a splintering thump as the axe bites into the door for the first time. Still I focus on this door, feeling apprehension towards the creature that exists beyond this door.
Whack, Whack, goes the axe, carving the door, trying to pierce it.
The ominous gate in the darkness is fully open, and there is nothing to hold at bay whatever is beyond. And it steps through.
My eyes snap open and I turn around to stare at the wooden door. There’s already a fissure in the door, and with each swing I can see the axe blade pierce an area near it, widening that hole. Whack, Whack. I don’t know what I saw in my mind, but before me the door is failing. Whack, whack. Another chunk of wood comes out, almost enough for an arm to reach through. All of my rage has left me, and I feel defenseless. Empty.
Whack! Splinters spray inwards, and someone’s hand grasps a loose board and pries it off. An arm could fit through, now. Soon, it’ll be wide enough for someone to take out the bar.
Whack goes the axe, and I step away from the door automatically.
Quite to my surprise, my back hits against something. Not something wooden and cold, as one would imagine, but something furry. Something hot. Something breathing hot breath on the back of my neck.
All of my muscles clench, and I feel frozen. Slowly I rotate myself, to look at whatever I’ve touched.
I stagger away from the sight of it, and feel my jaw drop. Only by sheer force of will do I keep from collapsing on the floor. My limbs feel like jelly, and my brain seems to stop. My eyes slowly work upwards, taking in the full picture of it. My mind screams and begs for me to run, but I’ve nowhere to go.
Its feel arms raise and it flexes long fingers with wicked claws. Bulging muscles ripple under matted fur, and a horrific muzzle opens to reveal yellowed teeth, like the maw of a wolf.
The beast stares at me with two golden eyes, like twin suns burning with malice.
Though it stands on two legs and has two arms, like a man, this thing is far from human. It continues to flex various muscles, and stares at me. It seems to be waiting. What for, I couldn’t imagine.
Again the axe falls upon the door, but I can’t look back now. The beast is far worse. A thousand questions spring to mind, but my mouth refuses to ask them.
Its maw opens once more, its jaws spreading, and I’m sure my end has come. I squeeze my eyes as tightly as I can, and wait for my bloody death. The moments are counted by axe strokes, but no teeth assail my body. At last, I hear words rumbled out in a slow voice with many pauses: “What do you want?”
I open one eye, and behold the creature, still standing. Questions whip around my head. It asked me what I wanted? I’m not dead? It talks? It spoke to me? But still the creature simply stares.
I finally find my voice, and weakly ask of it “Help me?”
The creature cocks its head, which would be funny if I weren’t feeling like pissing myself. It stares and finally utters “Help. You?”
I risk a glance backwards, and see that the hole is wide. The axe has stopped. I’m out of time. I speak as quickly as I can towards the beast from beyond: “There are bad men beyond the door, and I need you to protect-“
My voice ends in a squeak as I feel a hand close around my elbow with crushing force. I turn to see my boss, a manic grin on his face, halfway through the door. His fist is curled around my arm, and he looks ready to murder. “I’ve got you now, you whore! I’m gonna rip your damn arms and legs off, and fuck your body! I’ll cut your bloody-“
Before his threat was even finished a clawed hand lashes out with lightning speed from behind me, griping the dwarf by his throat.
Without even looking, I roll to the side, and stare up in awe and horror as the beast seizes the dwarf with both clawed arms, and drags him through the hole in the door. It lifts him up, and there’s a moment of silence while the dwarf stares in confusion and terror at the furry monster holding him. Then the creature opens its feral maw and lashes out.
I close my eyes as fast as I can, but it’s not soon enough for me to miss the horrid scene. It’s all pictures and sounds behind my eyes- of the teeth, the blood, and that horrible crunching sound as it devoured his face.
There’s a wet thump as something heavy falls to the floor, and I open my eyes to see what’s left of my old bosses face staring towards me.
The beast stands over him and me, its muzzle and neck stained red with blood. Again, it seems to be waiting. I glance towards the door, and mumble “There are more of them.” Everyone outside the door is talking amongst themselves. Their feeble human eyes can’t pierce the gloom, so they don’t yet know what’s become of the dwarf that they saw disappear through the door.
The beast eyes the door, and gives it a gentle push. The door, being barred, doesn’t open. Before I can even point out the object impeding it, the creature raises one mighty paw and smashes the bar into kindling.
Again, dead silence beyond the door.
Then, the beast bashes both arms against the door, and it breaks the rest of the way, exploding outwards in a spray of timber and splinters.
I watch it step beyond the door, beyond my line of sight, and can instantly hear everyone’s reactions. Suddenly, the world is full of noise. Screams, from men and from women, start as soon as it passes into the kitchen. Sounds of ripping and tearing, of liquids falling to the floor, and of people trying to fight back.
Many people scream, and then are cut off. And still some just keep screaming until their voices slowly fade away. And still the noises go on, glass being shattered, metal pots toppling and crashing to the floor, wood being ripped to pieces, and still more screaming.
Through all of this I sit in the closet, in my corner. Someone in the kitchen gurgles and sputters, like they’re choking. Perhaps on their own blood. But, at last, even they fall quiet.
Beyond the door, dead silence reins once more.
A shadow appears in the doorway, one with huge arms and cruelly sharp claws. It says simply: “Many have fled. They seek help. We must leave.”
I nod, feeling slightly numb, and stagger onto my feet. My legs are shaky, and my steps are slow and faltering. I step past the doorway holding the wall for support. I follow along behind the beast, using the wall for support. My eyes are dead set on the door, and I refuse to look at the ground. I don’t want to see what kind of carnage was left behind.
At last I come to the kitchen door, which swings in the breeze, attached only by one hinge, now. Here, I make another decision.
I turn slowly, and take in the mess. This is my mess; these people were killed by my hand. The first thing my eyes are drawn to is the huge pool of blood in the center of the room, lapping at the kitchen island like a lake around its namesake. Through the center of that lake of blood are many sets of footprints, mine most recently.
I stare transfixed at those imprints of my own bare feet, knowing that that same blood is on the soles of my feet, and on my very soul. Still my eyes stray further, seeing ahead a finger. I follow along and see the hand, the wrist, the arm, and- then it ends. Four or five feet away is the shoulder, and the rest of the body. That body is on top of another body, beside which is a third. I know there are more behind the counter, and even some down the hallway.
My eyes take all of these things in- the blood, the gore, and the disgusting pieces of meat that are supposed to be inside of the torso instead of on the ground- and yet I feel no sympathy. Everyone here was either supported slavery, or was a slaver.
I turn back to the creature, and see that it is waiting just a few feet beyond. Waiting for me.
It turns its back on me and leads me around the house, when suddenly my ears hear the distant sounds of barking. “They’ve sent hounds after us!” I warn it, but it simply nods, already aware.
With sudden speed the creature launches itself at the wooden wall that surrounds the building, and leaps upon it. With swift tearing motions the thing pulls boards off and throws stakes across the field. In a mere moment it leaves nothing but a pile of timber where there had been a well-built fence. It passes through the gap, and I stagger after. I’m not getting left behind now.
I carefully make my way over the pile and try to hurry after the beast, who is already twenty feet into the forest, waiting for me.
I try to make my way gracefully through the undergrowth, but only manage to trample through it, nearly falling. I press on ahead, seeing that my guide has already moved forward. I try to run, succeeding at little more than stumbling, trying to stay ahead of the town guard. Before long they’ll be at the bordello, then we won’t have long before they follow us.
I run faster, weaving through trees and following the trail being left for me, but my legs are already burning. We run through the forest, running and running and running, but I can hear them behind us. A long way off, but they’ll follow us forever, slowly gaining.
Suddenly there’s a low branch up ahead, but I don’t notice it until it’s too late. I try to duck, but even as the thought occurs to me, I feel a stinging across my forehead.
I find myself suddenly on my back, more tired than ever. My legs throb and ache, and my lungs burn from the effort. A strong pain on my head tells me I’ve probably drawn blood on that branch. The effort is too much, and I feel my eyes start closing of their own accord. I’m so tired, so weary. Would it be so wrong to simply go to sleep here?
I hear the crunch of leaves underfoot, and I ease my eyes open to see the creature I brought fourth. For a moment, it simply stands over me, and then it lowers itself over me.
I don’t even have the energy left to feel scared, and I don’t resist when it scoops me up under the knees and back, carrying me as easily as one would a child. Without a single sound of effort, it turns back away from where we came, and continues to run through the forest, with me in its arms.
I feel myself starting to drift, straying to the edge of sleep. Before I can drop off, the thing snarls out, “Don’t fall asleep. You mustn’t.”
I shake myself awake, and look up to see its muzzle. “Why not?” I ask in a sleepy voice.
“You don’t sleep, or I have to go.”
It seemed an adequate answer in my state, so I focused on trying not to sleep. Deeper and deeper into the forest we ran, and I could hear the sound of our hunters falling behind, now. But with hounds, how could we ever hide?
As my head droops, I notice a stream that we seem to be running beside. I hadn’t noticed it before, and the more we follow it, the thicker and faster it gets.
“Where’s the water coming from?” I mumble, trying to keep myself firmly awake.
“Nowhere.” It said. Another simplistic answer, but it seems like too much work to ask it to explain.
Up ahead, there seemed to be a clearing. I didn’t notice it before, and yet now it seems so obvious. We slow down as we approach, yet the hunters don’t sound like they’re getting closer. Oddly enough, the sounds are getting further and further away.
As we pass the tree line and enter the clearing, I feel myself starting to slip into sleep again. It seems like so much effort to shake myself awake, and I don’t believe I can.
The beast’s steps slow and start to falter, like it’s tired. Suddenly I feel the sensation of dropping as it falls to its knees. I timidly crawl out of its arms, towards a beautiful pond in the center of the clearing, being fed by the stream as it falls over a ten-foot high cliff. The grass is so soft here, and I lie down in it.
Behind me I can hear the monster’s voice: “You mustn’t sleep.”
As I stare at it, I feel like I can see through to the other side. Like it’s just not as real as it used to be.
I hear footsteps behind me, and I weakly roll over, to get a sight of a pair of bare feet, standing in the grass. The footed figure drops to its- her- knees beside me, and she gently lifts my head and places it on her knees.
“Shhh,” she whispers to me, her voice like a sigh, “rest now. No one will find you here.”
Her hand gently strokes my hair, tucking a crimson lock behind my ear. I look over to see the creature, staring at the woman holding me. They must be staring into one another’s eyes. A challenge. At last, I feel myself start to fall into the world of sleep, giving into my fatigue. I still feel her fingers, gently stroking my hair.