Chapter Forty-Six: Pink Cunt
Princess Ava – Az, Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch
My feyhound body trembled. My wooden cook throbbed and pulsed in Ealaín’s asshole, spurting into her bowels. I shivered, loving cumming with a dick. It was so hot occupying the wicker body of the feyhound and using it as my proxy. It sent such powerful pulses through me. I enjoyed being fucked in my real body, but I also loved doing the plowing.
It was—
A woman screamed outside then cut off.
My ears pricked. I lifted my head, staring at the window.
“What was that?” Kora asked, the blonde sitting up, my bedmaid, Greta, face buried between my sister-wife’s thighs, the sex slave’s golden-blonde pigtails spilled over Kora’s legs. Greta’s face smeared with pussy juices and Sven’s cum.
“I don’t know?” I frowned.
Ealaín’s bowels clenched about my dick. Zanyia popped up, her ears twitching. She rolled away from Nathalie, the lamia’s flexible body springing into a crotch, her tawny tail swaying with violent twitches as her head cocked.
“What is it?” Sven asked, his voice serious.
“Something big is stomping towards—”
A bellow shook the boarding house. Wood smashed below. Something huge thudded below. People screamed. I ripped out of Ealaín’s asshole and bounded off the bed to face the door. Ealaín rolled off of Sven, darting for her ax and war hammer. She snatched up her weapons. Sven was right behind her, cock bouncing wet as he went for his short sword. Greta and Nathalie whimpered, the two girls grabbing each other.
“What in Las’s putrid cum is that?” Sven growled as the entire building shook. Heavy steps stomped up the stairs. Someone shouted. A sickening crunch echoed.
“Brother mine?” Kora gasped.
“Get ready,” Sven growled.
“Oh, no,” Zanyia groaned. “I know that stench. It’s Gor, the—”
The wall by the door to our room exploded into rubble. A huge hulk barreled into the room, head brushing the ceiling, body a solid mass of muscle covered in waxy-yellow skin. Greasy, black hair fell in ropy strands about a brutish face. It gripped a club in its hand as thick as my waist.
“Ogre!” Sven growled as the club barreled in a sweeping arc before the monster.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ealaín
I swung my war hammer at the club, not thinking, reacting, kneading to parry the attack. My war hammer hit the massive club to parry it and—
Pain throbbed up my arm. My war hammer flew from my grip. It hissed through the air and smashed into the wall. I threw myself back, the club narrowly missing me. Air rushed in the wake of it. Sven yanked Kora down, the club whistling over her head. Her hair swished over them.
“Rithi’s inspiration,” I snarled, flexing my fingers, my naked tits heaving. The ogre’s club slammed into the far wall. Plaster shattered, falling off it to expose the inner core of wood.
“Zizthithana sent him!” screamed Zanyia as an onxy skinned woman entered the room after the ogre.
I moved to face the newcomer, a wild look in her face as she shouted orders at the ogre. “Fuck them! Rape them!”
The ogre’s brutal cock would ruin the beauty of any woman’s pussy. I couldn’t allow this woman to direct the brute. I would hack her down, handicapping the monster. I charged at her, breasts heaving before me, my war ax gripped in both hands.
“Rithi’s inspiration!” I howled.
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Sven Falk
“Ava!” Kora gasped as I threw her off the bed.
Nathalie and Greta huddled on the floor, hugging each other, tears falling down their youthful faces, their naked bodies pressed tight. Ava lay on the bed, helpless, her feyhound body bounding at the ogre, snarling and growling.
“Sven!” Kora shouted. “You have to protect Ava!”
“Right,” I growled. I had to get my all women to safety.
Kora shoved her fingers between her thighs, rubbing at her pussy, gathering her sexual juices to use in her divine magic. The ogre drew back his club to sweep through the room. Anyone hit by that weapon…
“We’ll distract him, Master!” Zanyia hissed, leaping on the floor, her tawny hair flying behind her.
I shifted my short sword to my left hand then hefted Ava’s body. The princess lay limp in my arm as her feyhound form bounded between the creatures legs. The brute raised a foot and slammed it down to crush her. She leaped clear.
The room shook.
I threw Ava’s naked body over my shoulder, gripping her legs to my chest, her arms dangling behind me. “Greta, Nathalie!”
“M-Master?” Nathalie asked, tears falling down her face.
“Come on!” I snarled. “Follow me right now, slave!”
“Y-yes, Master!” she gasped. Her body, trembling, frozen by fear, snapped into action. She pulled Greta to her feet, holding the princess’s bedmaid. “Come on, Master needs us to act.”
“M-Master?” Greta gasped, her large breasts swaying as the room shook.
The ogre lunged a hand at Zanyia. My lamia slave leaped out of the way. Ealaín fought an onyx-skinned woman at the edges of the hallway. Kora chanted, praying to her Goddess, creating art. I charged forward, the two scared sex slaves following, Ava swaying over my shoulder. I had to get them clear of the danger. Greta and Nathalie’s bare feet padded behind me.
The hulking ogre’s club smashed the bed to splinters with a thrust of his club, smashing the remains into the wall and punched through it, opening a gaping hole out onto the boarding rooms’ balcony. My bare feet smacked on shattered plastered and splintered wood. I burst out into the ruins of the hallway. Bodies lay broken and battered amid the rubble, guests caught up in the chaos of the monster’s assault.
“Come on!” I shouted, my heart pounding. The exhilarating chill fired through me. I felt so alive. Sex and danger… They both had a similar rush. A similar excitement. I should be terrified. My women were in danger, and yet…
And yet there was a fight. There was danger. There was…
This was why Rithi wanted me to end my relationship with Kora. To get her away from the chaos of adventure. From the danger of fighting brutal monsters like that ogre. Through the roaring battle-passion, fear twisted through me for Kora and Zanyia fighting the ogre. Distracting it while I protected our vulnerable women.
I had to get back to the fight. I had to get Ava, Greta, and Nathalie to safety then protect my other women.
I reached the stairs, runners shattered by the weight of the ogre. More people huddling below, peering up as they sat in the rubble. They looked lost, bewildered, many wearing dressing gowns, some with faces ruddy from drink.
“Flee!” I bellowed as I charged down the stairs. “Run! Ogre!”
My words reached them, gave them direction, guidance. Fear robbed humans of the ability to think rationally. It made them freeze like a prey animal in the sight of the predator. Now they moved. Bleating, they scurried before me as I hurried down the stairs, my whimpering sex slaves following.
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Zanyia
Gor’s bellow shook the room. Zizthithana’s pet ogre was here. That horrid, scaly bitch had unleashed the brutal beast. Birthed out of the worst parts of Las’s lust, ogres were the most vile of the races created by his indiscriminate masturbation. Ogres thought of only sex. Of only ramming their cocks into any hole they could get to. A huge dick thrust hard from his tangled pubic hair, bigger than any cock I had ever seen. It swung before him, another brutal club.
I had seen him rape women with that dick. Antrevia would bring them to him then masturbate as he satiated himself. It was the ultimate punishment given out to lamia sex slaves, so we were often reminded of what awaited us if we displeased Zizthithana. We could take his cock easier than a human, but Gor’s lusts were unending. After being fucked for hours, even a lamia broke beneath the assault.
Human women hardly lasted past his second orgasm.
I wouldn’t let this monster touch any member of my family. Not any of my Mistresses. I would fight him. I would see him dead. Gor and Antrevia and Zizthithana all deserved to perish for their monstrous acts.
For what they did to my lamia sisters!
I hissed as I faced the brute. His mass was immense, all muscle and leathery skin. Swords had trouble penetrating his hide. I’d seen them bounce off of him when he fought for Zizthithana’s amusement, pitted against warriors with the finest equipment.
They all died.
But I knew how to distract him. I turned around and wiggled my ass at him, thrusting my trimmed bush at him. My fingers parted my pussy lips, exposing my pink flesh. I wiggled my ass at him and purred loudly.
“Pussy over here, Gor!” I yowled.
The ogre let out a grunting growl. “CUNT!” his deep voice rumbled. “PINK CUNT!”
“Yes, yes, yummy, pink cunt!” I moaned, my juices flowing. Despite how hard my heart pumped, a strange excitement ran through me. This was so dangerous. I would have to react. I had make every move correct to survive.
And that made me feel so alive. It was so exhilarating. I loved traveling with Master. He made life so exciting.
Gor lunged at me with his free hand. Thick, sausage-like fingers reached for me. I leaped at the hole he battered in the wall, flying through the bits of hay burst from our bed’s battered mattress. The white down brushed my ski, caressing it as I soared through the air. My ears pricked, my tail giving me balance in the air.
His fingers brushed the end of my tail. Closed on nothing.
A surge of relief shot through me, this wonderful high. It almost felt like an orgasm. I landed on the balcony as the ogre roared in frustration. He wanted to fuck me. I grinned as I wiggled my ass at him again. The building shook as he charged after me.
“You can’t get this pussy!” I laughed and leaped to the next balcony. I soared through the night air, the cool wind kissing my skin. I landed light on the balcony and threw open the door into the room, the bed unmade, the occupant fled. Screams came from below.
The room shook. The wall exploded in a shower of plaster and wood. I ducked a chest of drawers sent flying by the ogre crashing through the debris. His cock bounced before him like a battering ram. His beady eyes fell on me.
“PINK CUNT!”
Chapter Forty-Seven: Teasing Lies
Ealaín
My ax hurtled down at the ogre handler’s dark form.
“Naga’s scales!” she snarled as she leaped back to avoid my attack, her bright-red hair flying behind her. She landed in a crouch in the hallway. “You’re a quick one.”
I didn’t answer her as I shifted my fighting stance. The onyx-skinned woman gripped a long, narrow sword in her hand, bright-red hair spilling about her face. It contrasted with just how dark her skin was, a duller hue than my midnight-black. She cocked her head, eyes flicking up and down me as I advanced, war ax gripped in both my hands. Her dark leathers creaked as she faced me.
I examined her back. “You’re Antrevia,” I said, remembering Zanyia talking about the Zizthithana and her followers. After Keythivak and his poison, I’d gleaned every bit of information about the cruel naga. What I’d learned about Antrevia sickened me. “You’re a monstrous bitch!”
The woman smiled, her head cocking to the side. “And you have skin just like me. How interesting.”
Her sword flicked out. I parried with my war ax, deflecting her thrust from hitting me. I flicked the deadly, curving blade of my weapon at her face, growling. She was the ogre’s handler. She controlled him. She brought him women to suffer his brutal lusts, to be raped to death by his massive cock.
Our weapons clashed again. Her narrow blade moved in a silvery blur, flicking, trying to find my naked flesh. I didn’t have my armor. I didn’t have my second weapon. I grit my teeth, flowing through the forms with my ax, my feet moving over the rubble strewn floor. I snarled, swinging the weapon before me, driving her back and giving Sven the room to get the vulnerable women clear of the fight.
A wall exploded. The hallway shook. The handler stumbled, her red hair swaying about her cruel face. I swung my ax hard at her. She leaped back, landing in a lithe crouch. My ax slammed into the polished wood of the floor. The blade buried deep into the floor. Splinters flew from the impact.
She grinned, flashing white teeth, then thrust her sword at me, the needle-like point lancing right for my guts. I wrenched my ax free, smacking her blade, knocking it to thrust up and past my face, disturbing my white hair.
“I have never met anyone with black skin like me,” purred the woman. “Are you the same as me?”
“No!” I snarled, feeling disgusted just being around her. “I could never be so cruel as you!”
She gave a wicked laugh as our weapons clashed.
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Kora Falk
Ava’s feyhound form bounded through the rubble and leaped on the ogre’s back as it chased Zanyia into the other room. As she attacked, inspiration struck me. Zanyia had revealed the ogre’s weakness. The ogre as another being birthed out of the God of Lust’s masturbation. Another race controlled by their lusts. Like Zanyia.
An idea formed in my mind, the perfect illusion to cast.
“Rithi, bless my sexual juices and let them paint new beauty in the world,” I chanted, my pussy-stained fingers painting the air before me, creating living art.
Color swirled behind the ogre. The hulk thrashed, head smashing through the ceiling as it sought to throw off Ava’s feyhound. Zanyia darted before him, distracting him with her pink pussy, her fingers parting her folds.
A beautiful woman appeared, naked like us, but standing with voluptuous invitation. Bright-red hair—that exotic, Tuathan coloring—and bountiful breasts. The illusion cupped her tits, jiggling them as she stood in the door out to the balcony.
“Mmm, yes, I could use some ogre cock right now,” I projected through the illusion, putting all that wanton need into the apparition I created. Her legs parted, her pussy a tight, shaved slit glistening with her juices.
The ogre’s, snarling, head whipped around. His shoulders rolled, throwing Ava off of him. Her wicker body crashed into the wall. She bounced off and landed on the floor as the ogre barreled at my illusion. The floor shook, wood groaning, floor joists protesting the brute’s weight.
“PUSSY!” he growled, cock hard. He dropped his club and swept out a meaty hand at my illusion.
His hand passed through nothing. The illusion disrupted, blurring into rainbow of colors before reforming into the image. The ogre snorted. His heavy brow furrowed. He let out a snort and then snarled and thrust his hand froward again.
He slammed his open palm right through her and into the door. It exploded in splinters, ripping out the frame around it, his thick arm fuzzing her breasts into scintillating colors. His arm swept back and forth, wrist battering the wreckage of the door, buckling the wall.
“PUSSY!” he growled, fist crashing into the floor as Ava rallied and lunged in for another attack.
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Princess Ava
I leaped at the ogre’s back. I had to hurt him. I should be able to. I had teeth. Claws. I had a nimble, athletic body. I felt so free as I soared through the air. In this body, I didn’t have a heart, but I could almost feel it thudding in the depths of my wicker body.
I landed on the ogre’s warty back. My claws scratched at his thick hide. Snarling, almost feeling like a hound, I snapped my jaws about the meat of his neck. I couldn’t open my jaws wide enough to wrap around his entire throat, but I caught a good chunk of it. My teeth bit. Flesh sliced beneath them. Foul blood flowed over my neck.
But not that gush I wanted. Not that arterial spray that would kill him as he lost more and more blood. I savaged him, ripping with my neck muscles, trying to tear his flesh. But his skin was so tough, his neck muscles so strong. The ogre snarled, twisting. My body flew, my neck straining, my teeth holding me to his body.
He straightened, bellowing, abandoning Kora’s illusion. His head slammed into the ceiling. Wood crashed around me. My body slammed into one of the support joists holding up the floor above. Wicker snapped across my body, breaking part of me.
My jaws relaxed.
I tumbled off his back. I landed by his feet, struggling to get back on my feet. More rubble fell around as his head battered through more of the ceiling, letting him stand to his full height for a moment. His foot lashed out behind him.
I gasped, flung across the room. I twisted. Zanyia yowled, ducking as I flew over her head. I snarled and then crashed into the wall. I bounced off and fell back onto the ground. Wood creaked, putting stress on the wicker. The woody vines that formed my body felt on the verge of breaking in many places where they hadn’t wholly snapped.
How much of this could I take?
All of it. I had to endure. I had to keep fighting until Sven returned from protecting my real body. I shook my head, looking up, the ogre rushing at Kora. Fear fluttered through me as he rushed at the naked priestess, cock bouncing hard before him, hands outstretched.
“No!” I snarled.
“TRICK!” ogre rumbled, his voice rattling the room.
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Sven Falk
The boarding house shook. I fought through the flood of escaping people, bleating in fear as they fled the trembling building. Nathalie and Greta pressed behind me, their naked forms trembling as I battled through the flow of panicked residents. I kept a tight grip on Ava. I wouldn’t let her go.
Rubble crashed into the floor ahead. I looked up at the ceiling. My women were fighting the brute. I had to get up there and fight, but I also had to get Ava to safety. I growled. I had to protect all my women. I brought them into this dangerous life. Into this fight. I set out on a quest of vengeance, and it led me here.
I had to take responsibility for them.
I burst out into the night, the patrons of the boarding house screaming as they ran down the street. People watched the house, staring at it. I glanced around. This had to be safe enough. I darted down the road and stopped by a closed merchant stall. I set Ava down on the ground in its shadow.
“Watch her!” I growled to Greta and Nathalie.
“We’ll keep her safe, Master!” Nathalie said, her petite body trembling, her face so pale, white as milk.
“We will,” Greta said, her eyes red, tears staining her cheeks. She fell to her knees, lifted Ava’s sleeping head, and settled it on her lap.
I could see it in their eyes; they both loved Ava. They didn’t have the strength to fight, but they still would help. It swelled my heart, joy beating through it for a moment. I took pride in my harem, in the women in it. They were strong and powerful in their own ways. But I needed to do my part. I had to get back into the fight.
The ogre bellowed, “TRICK!”
I turned around and…
The naga slinked out of the shadows, the body of a dusky-skinned woman thrusting from the sinuous form of a vibrant, purple-scaled serpent with diamonds of bronze running down her flesh. She slithered forward, large, pillowy breasts swaying before her. She had fat, brown-pink nipples hard with her excitement. Purple hair, the same hue as her lower half, fell about a cruel and hungry face. She clutched a scimitar in her left hand. Shadows played around her right.
“Running away?” she hissed. “Leaving your women to fight alone?”
My hand tightened, anger boiling through me. I advanced on her. “The moment I saw the garbage heap in the shadows,” I lied, “I knew you were around slithering in the filth. Nightsoil is an improvement to your stench.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Such impertinence, human. I shall enjoy draping your hide over my throne and sitting upon it.”
“How flattering,” I said. “I bet your scales would make a great pair of boots.”
Her tongue flicked out before her. A rasping hiss came not from her mouth but from her coiled body rubbing scales against scales. Her breasts swayed before her as she undulated. I fell into a fighting stance, short sword gripped in my right hand. I didn’t care I was naked. I could defeat this bitch, take her head, and end one threat to my family.
“Come, try, human,” she hissed. “Test the mettle of your sword against my shadows.”
The darkness rustling around her hand surged at me. My body tensed. I knew shadowmancing couldn’t hurt. It could only confuse and bewilder. Unless she had the same power as that assassin. Did she also combine shadowmancing with witchcraft?
The darkness splashed across my face. I felt the cool, ethereal touch as the umbral washed over my vision. I blinked, the world swallowed by black. I sucked in a breath, waiting to see what her shadows would…
I couldn’t see.
The shadows settled over my face.
A moment of blind panic shot through me. An animalistic, whining instinct to bolt, to run, to whimper in dread gripped me. It held me rigid. I ground my teeth, fighting the cold fear pumping through my veins.
I. Would. Not. Panic.
I focused on my other senses. I’d practiced this. This had happened to me before. When fighting Warleader Gorth’in in the forest before meeting Aingeal. I was prepared for this. I knew I’d fight more shadowmancers. I anticipated this technique.
I could hear the slither of the naga’s scales as she advanced on me. The hiss of her exhale, the flick of her tongue. I smelled something dry and serpentine mixed with the oil used to hone her scimitar. My fear withdrew. I still could act. I could still fight. I could still sense my environment.
I had only one disadvantage. It wasn’t the end of the world.
Air swished.
The scimitar slashed at me.
Chapter Forty-Eight: Fighting Blind
Zanyia
“Got hot pussy right here?” I moaned, plunging my fingers into my pussy as Gor went for Kora. “It’s real and juicy.”
Kora threw herself to the ground, the ogre’s grasping hand sweeping over her. She screeched, her twin braids bouncing on her naked back. She quivered there again. I had to do something. I had to draw his attention.
Good thing my pussy dripped from the exhilaration. I felt so alive. So horny.
“You’re going for another illusion again,” I shouted, pulling out my digits from my cunt, coated in my juices. I flicked my fingers at him, splashing his back in juices. “Smell that, big boy. That’s prime, lamia cunt-cream.”
His brutish head snapped around towards me. I grinned at him, my ears twitching. Kora rolled away from him. An illusion of her appeared standing up before the ogre. He thrust his hand at the movement, blurring through the illusion.
“TRICK!” he snarled.
“But this isn’t,” I purred, flicking more pussy juices at him. “I’m real.”
He rose over me, smashing through the ceiling. The entire boarding house creaked and shook. How much more destruction could the building take? I hoped it would survive. I turned and scrambled away, the ogre lunging after me. I leaped for the door out of the room. His fist smashed into the floor. Wood protested.
I landed on the ground, my claws scratching, digging in, giving me leverage. I leaped again, flying out into the hallway. His lust-filled bellow echoed as he charged after me. The wall exploded, his hulk bursting through it.
I grinned as I led him away from Mistress Kora.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kora Falk
I let the illusion of myself dissolve away as the ogre smashed through the wall and tore off after Zanyia. I pushed myself to my feet. Ava’s feyhound proxy followed, leaping through the rubble. I chased after, bare feet slapping on the ground. Splintered wood and torn plaster slowed me down. My arms thrust out to my side, balancing myself across shifting debris.
“Come get me,” Zanyia shouted. “My pussy’s waiting!”
My fingers painted.
“Yes, yes, my pussy’s waiting,” illusion-Zanyia yowled as she sprang out of a door right before the ogre. I gave my art a toothy grin. “Mmm, it’s just so juicy.” I swished her tail and twitched her ears just like the real Zanyia. “See.”
I spun the illusion around and made her part her furred muff, showing off that pussy.
“No, no, it’s right here,” the real Zanyia purred, sounding just the same. She adopted the same pose, bent over, hand shoved down her body and between her legs, digits parting those pink depths. She was wet; battle always excited her.
She reveled in this. I hated it. The terror. My heart screaming. Blood pounding through my veins. Where was Sven? Why hadn’t he returned? And what happened to Ealaín? But I could only concentrate on my illusion.
The ogre’s head whipped back and forth. He stood immobile for a moment, one hand stroking that brutal cock, thick and long, more a battering ram than an organ that could give pleasure to a woman. Ogres didn’t care about giving pleasure. Only in rutting. In satiating their lusts.
“Got some hot, juicy cunt right here,” illusion-Zanyia howled, my lips moving with it while my pussy-soaked fingers wiggled. I shoved my left hand between my thighs, finding more of my cream.
I was wet, too. What did that say about me? Beneath the terror, I was excited.
Ava attacked the ogre’s leg. Her wooden teeth sunk into his hamstring. He bellowed, boulder-sized fists swinging at the end of long, pendulous arms. Ava ducked, her feyhound form nimble. Wicker creaked as she bit again, leaving oozing wounds on the ogre’s leg.
Was that even hurting him?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sven Falk
I flicked my sword towards the sound. Metal rang on metal. My blade shivered. I clenched my hands tight, the sound resounding. The naga hissed, her scales rasping together as she moved her body. I heard the slap of her breasts, picturing those pillowy mounds bouncing off each other.
I thrust my sword at that sound.
She hissed in frustration. Scales slithered back across cobblestone. Her scimitar slapped down on my sword, knocking my thrust off target. I didn’t care. I moved, bare feet crossing the stones. I heard Nathalie gasp, pictured her frightened face watching in awe.
She didn’t say a word. She knew better.
The air whistled to my right.
My sword snapped up.
Metal clashed.
Silky hair caressed shoulders and face. Scales slithered together, that dry caress. My sword slashed out, forcing her to retreat. I sprang at her, thrusting at her flesh, her scimitar sweeping before her to block. Hard swings. Too much energy. Too much flourish.
She wasn’t used to having opponents that truly fought back. I could imagine none of her servants ever trying to beat her when she sparred for practice. They didn’t put their all into the fight. They didn’t hone her to be a deadly fighter. She lacked the skill to face someone trained by the Fencing College of Az.
If I wasn’t blind…
Metal rang. She hissed as I drove her back. She circled me, slithering. I tracked her, ears pricked for every movement. My feet shifted along the cobblestones of the street. I listened for the swish of her sword, the sway of her breasts, the hissing frustration of her mouth. All of it gave me clues.
I parried. I slashed. I thrust.
“How!” she snarled.
“You’re just that pathetic of a fighter,” I said, putting mocking derision into my voice. “I don’t even need to see to kill you.”
I felt something cold swirling around me. Not wind, but that same ethereal touch. Her sword slashed in from the left. But it didn’t sound quite right. It had a… hollow quality. A heartbeat later, I heard a fainter hiss from my right.
I parried right. Her blade smacked into my sword, but it wasn’t swung at her full strength. She tried to bring in stealthily, to give me a minor wound instead of slicing me open from belly to sternum.
“How!” she snarled.
“Shadowy tricks don’t work if I can’t see them!” I said and then snapped my blade at her chest.
She snarled, her blade flashing. A cocky grin grew as I pressed my attack. I felt her frustration as she slithered down the street. I pressed her back faster and faster, sensing I had the advantage, the momentum of the fight had shifted in my favor.
My attacks grew swifter. Confidence swelled in me, energizing my forms. I had to find her flesh. I had to kill this bitch and end the blindness. The ogre bellowed in the building. I had to finish her off and help my sister, my princess, and my slave. I had to help Ealaín. All of them.
Her scimitar swept before her, hardly holding me off. Her breathing increased. She slithered back faster, forcing me to almost jog to keep up with her. I slashed, my blade not cutting into the naga’s flesh. Her scales rasped across the ground. She fled from me, slithering away.
I had her running scared and—
Nathalie screamed.
“No!” gasped Greta. They were so close to the rustling scales. Greta yelped. Bare feet slapped on the paving stones.
What was happening!
“Master!” screeched Nathalie, terror in her voice.
The naga hissed in satisfaction, her scales rasping on flesh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Princess Ava
I savaged the ogre’s thighs as I felt something distant wrapped about my real body. Thick and coiled. I ignored it. Sven was protecting me. I needed to keep fighting here. I needed to help my Kora and Zanyia fight the ogre.
Sven protected me.
I leaped up the ogre’s back, dodging his foot kicking back at me. I had to find some place on the brute that would hurt him. Little wounds oozed blood across his yellowish hide, but nothing I did seemed to slow him.
It was so frustrating.
“Pater’s cock!” I snarled as my claws tore into his back. I snapped at his neck again, trying to get around the front. To crush his windpipe. I lunged my head over his shoulder, greasy hair brushing the wicker of my flesh.
I closed around his throat. I squeezed, snarling as I choked the life out of him. Zanyia chortled in delight. I put my all into clenching down about the ogre’s throat. I could feel his breath rushing down his windpipe. I just had to crush it.
To kill him.
The ogre’s brutal hand seized me in a crushing grip. I gasped as he flung me. The hallways streaked past, doors open left open from the fleeing guests. I tried to turn my form, using my wicker tail to reposition myself and—
I crashed into the wall.
My body snapped. Wood splintered. I hit the floor and groaned, twitching. I felt broken wicker across my body, weakening my form’s strength. Dozens of strands had cracked or ripped in half along my sides, putting strain on those still in tact. My left foreleg lay twisted, held on by only a few woody vines.
I shook my head, struggling to stand.
The proxy was still intact enough for me to control it. My soul didn’t hurtle back out of my body. I could still fight. The ogre lunged at a Zanyia, reaching for her, ignoring me. I almost had him. I could feel I was choking him.
I hobbled back towards the fight, my left leg dragging behind me.
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Zizthithana, Istandar of Hizzithya
I hissed in frustration as I fled Sven Falk. The blind, blond human kept fighting. His muscular, yet sleek, body flowing with such skill and grace. He moved his sword like it belonged to his body, just another appendage that he could wield.
If he could see…
I charged at his women, at the slumbering Princess Ava. The naked serving girls screeched. The busty one ducked my scimitar blow, rolling away from the unconscious princess, her strawberry-blonde hair spilling over the cobblestone.
“Master!” screeched the petite serving girl, her pigtails flying about her face as she dove away from my scimitar, moving with some grace and skill.
They had training. But only in fleeing.
“She’s going for the princess!” the busty one shouted as my coiled body wrapped about Princess Ava.
“No!” snarled Sven, the fear palpable in his voice. I could taste it on the air.
He cared for Ava. That made him weak.
I entwined my scales about her form. I shivered at the feel of her small breasts rising and falling against my body. My instincts screamed at me to squeeze. To crush the life from her, to feel her bones pop. A sexual shudder washed through me, my pussy growing so hot as I turned to face Sven.
His sword slashed at me.
I parried.
“Master!” Nathalie gasped.
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Sven Falk
I drew back my sword and swung again at the naga, her scales rasping right before me. Nathalie shouted to my right, fear thick in her voice. It flowed through my body, making me tremble, wracking about my guts.
“I have your princess, Sven,” Zizthithana hissed. “My coils are wrapped around her. One squeeze…”
The reptilian coldness of her words struck me. My lungs grew tight. I felt like that ogre rampaging through the boarding house had seized me, his fist crushing my chest. My heart labored as I heard those scales rasping against silky skin.
“She does, Master,” Greta called. “Please, please, don’t hurt her, snake!”
“I thought you were Prince Meinard’s ally,” I said, holding my sword pointed low before me.
“I’m not his daughter’s ally,” she purred. “Besides, alliances are temporary. They are fleeting. For a time, our goals aligned, but now they drift apart. Stay your blade, or you’ll hear all her pretty bones snap. She’ll scream then die choking. It’s quite… excruciating.”
“No, no, no,” Greta sobbed. “Please, please, don’t hurt her.”
The image blazed in my mind. With sight stolen from me, my fears conjured a sight that felt so real. Princess Ava wrapped up in the purple scales, those bronzes diamonds flashing as the naga squeezed. My betrothed’s face twisted in agony as her body compressed. Her face grew red as she shook, joints popped, ribs creaked.
I couldn’t see well enough to know exactly where Ava was in relation to the naga. If I swung and Zizthithana parried, she might slap my blade into Ava’s flesh. If I didn’t strike the naga—if I didn’t land a blow that would kill the naga—she would squeeze.
Crush.
How long would it take for Ava to die. How long could my princess survive the crushing pressure of the naga’s embrace. All the exhilaration I felt evaporated from my blood. No more excitement remained. Only the fear. The poisonous dread that stole through my body, numbing me, making me shake.
“Las’s putrid cum,” I growled, lowering my short sword.
“Yes, yes, you understand,” the naga said, her voice hissing with such sibilant delight. “You don’t want her to die.”
“No.” The words felt ripped from me. What could I do without sight? I didn’t have a chance now.
“Drop your blade,” she purred.
I tossed it down before me, clattering on the pavement.
“Back up,” she hissed.
I took a step back.
“More, Sven.” Her scales rasped against smooth skin.
My stomach twisted, swirled. Acids boiled inside of me. That sick writhe threatened to empty my dinner upon the paving stones. I took another step back. A second. A third. A fourth. I held my hands out to the side, fingers spread, open.
“Okay,” I growled. “let her go.”
Metal slid against stone. Then something sailed through the air. Not at me. It clanged down the street, bouncing. My sword… She’d thrown my weapon far away, denying me the chance of charging for it.
“Now don’t move,” she hissed, slithering towards me. “I can still kill her.”
Nathalie whimpered. Greta groaned. The sounds came from each other. They were close. “The moment she frees Ava,” I said, keeping my voice strong, in charge, “grab her and flee.”
“Yes, yes, you wouldn’t want me to harm her after I’m done with you,” Zizthithana hissed. She sounded only feet away.
Scales rasped against flesh. My body shook, tensed. The ogre fist about my torso squeezed tighter. But I didn’t hear the sounds of snapping bones. Greta let out a relieved moan as the naga circled me. I felt her body stirring the air surrounding me while that dry, serpentine smell filled my nose. Her scales brushed my calves as she wound around my body.
Bare feet slapped on the cobblestone. My sex slaves reached Ava. They retreated, groaning and grunting as they dragged away my princess. I let out a relieved breath then shuddered as the serpentine coils tightened around me. I pulled my right arm free, my left pinned to my body as her scales covered me. Her breasts pressed into my face.
“Ooh, yes, you are all mine to play with, Sven,” hissed Zizthithana. “And what fun we shall have.”
Her muscular coils clenched about my body.
To be continued…