Above the wild forests, the full moon shined like a silver torch. Its beautiful light glowed through the gaps in the canopy, softly illuminating the leaf-swathed soil and the gnarled roots of venerable old trees. The orchestra of buzzing insects and hooting owls suffused the air with the familiarity of nature, and the animals went about their great nocturnal dance of predator and prey.
But the wildlife fell silent, muting itself when a beautiful outsider trespassed into the verdant woods. It was as if the creatures of the forest sensed that she did not belong, on some primal level. They could not possibly know what she was, but their instincts warned them that she was dangerous. Despite the fundamental difference between her and the animals, in some ways she was very similar: she was a hunter, and she was here for quarry of her own.
Her name was Fawaris. Her hair was short and handsome, lush white locks that glowed in the moonlight like flowing silver as they waved in the wind. Tall, graceful, and nimble, she wore a black dress, its bodice cupping up along her bust, yet leaving most of her chest bare, allowing her enormous breasts to breathe with overflowing cleavage for all eyes to enjoy. Such was their fullness, their softness, that they jiggled nonstop as she ran, yet they were supported enough that they did not slow her down in the slightest. Her black skirt billowed behind her, and her beautiful pale legs, long and curvy and clad in dark stockings, peeked through slits in the fabric with every step. The fore-curtain of white cloth that shielded her dignity as a woman hung down almost to her black, prim high heels. Her battle-dress was both practical and beautiful, much like her personality. Her movements were completely unrestricted by her attire, yet she presented a formal and noble visage that could sway any maiden's heart to her favor. She was an honorable knight, a wise librarian, and also a true undead. Indeed, she was anything but ordinary: Fawaris was both dragon and lich, yet she lived in human form.
Fawaris raced between trees, darting left to avoid a hanging branch, ducking under another one, pushing a third out of her way with an open hand when there was no dodging it. No matter how many obstacles she navigated, her gleaming opal eyes never left the targets that sprinted ahead of her. The little green monsters were small but swift, trying to lose her in the shadows of the forest. One of them looked back over his shoulder, hissing at the others how close their pursuer was with guttural, ugly words, and their stubby green legs scrambled as quickly as they could possibly go. They desperately leapt through barbed bushes, heedless of the scrapes that the thorns left on their greasy skin. Even as fast as they were, if the foliage were any less dense, she could have caught them in one swift lunge and a lethal sweep of her blade.
"Run as far as you please," Fawaris growled under her breath, the reptilian slit pupils of her eyes narrowing murderously as the wind of her sprint whipped around her, "but your souls are mine."
And her prophecy came true in the very next second. The hysterical goblins, glancing over their shoulders to search for sight of their hunter, ran headfirst into a thicket of poisonous ivy. All their momentum halted in an instant, tangled up and trapped like insects in a spider's web. Screeching in terror, they wrestled against the natural bindings, only to see shining steel stab straight through one of their comrades from behind. Crimson blood dripped down the longsword, running from the dying monster's split heart. And then, with slow, purposeful confidence—the practiced ease of a warrior experienced in slaughtering their kind—the sword drew back, sliding back out of the corpse as smoothly as through butter.
The others screamed even louder, fighting the vines in paroxysms of mortal horror. They watched the sword plunge through the next goblin's chest, falling lifeless as well. The more they struggled, the more certain death became, the next slain with a simple, casual swipe of ringing steel through his neck, blood raining out like a fountain onto the soil. As his head rolled on the leaves below, the last goblin finally wrenched his little frame free of the tangled loops of ivy, his skin red with rashes, and clawed his way out into the night just before her blade could claim him as well.
Fawaris left that one alive on purpose, using advice she often heard from Ylva that surviving goblins of raiding parties, seeking the safety of numbers, would run for home and lead straight to the source of the infestation. Giving the monster a few moments to gain a lead, the huntress stopped, breathing deeply. Magic pulsed through her body, glowing ominous blue through her eyes, and for a moment, even a normal human could see the remnant souls of the slain goblins leaving their bodies and flowing into her like astral vapors. As she consumed them, her own power surged just slightly brighter. And then, once she had chewed through what little energy they had to offer, she released their spirits to the afterlife, the glow fading from her form.
"As expected, wretched scum like this have such weak souls," Fawaris sighed, brushing a wayward lock of her handsome white hair out of her face with long, pale blue-painted nails. "These lowly grunts are just morsels, not even worthy of being called meals, and the taste is terrible at that. I'll need a lot more to reach my peak at this rate. I wonder, how many of the pests remain? Hmm. Hopefully they have one or two souls among them worth my time. And even if they don't, I'll rest easier knowing they're all dealt with. Time to follow my bait..."
She moved onwards, needing no effort to follow the path of smashed bushes and broken tree branches the last goblin left in his terror. As she advanced, she wiped her sword clean of goblin blood with a white handkerchief plucked from her immense valley of breasts. Her long heels clicked on hard tree roots and crunched on dead leaves at a slow, purposeful walk, her eyes gleaming with renewed power like twin moons in the shadows...
***
The trail soon led to a clearing on a rocky hill, a tall, beautiful stone priory standing there, the stained-glass windows gleaming in a plethora of colors in the moonlight. But no manmade light shined through these ornate panes—the interior was dark and forlorn, and there was not even a small lantern lit at the gatehouse for a watchman to welcome travelers or watch for trouble. Fawaris almost assumed it was abandoned, if not for the mutilated, desiccated corpses of monks hung from the walls on ropes as a warning to all. This massacre must have taken place weeks or months ago, she guessed, judging by the state of the bodies.
At the northwest corner of the small abbey, a bell tower rose high above the tree line. Fawaris glanced up at it, and for a brief instant, she almost swore she could see the glint of little yellow eyes peering at her over the stone crenellations before vanishing as soon as she spotted them.
"More snacks after all," Fawaris said to herself with a smile, a sharp fang peeking at the corner of her luscious lips, a dangerous light in her gaze. A dark, vengeful urge swelled in her heart, just imagining the suffering of the priory's residents at the hands of these goblins. She drew her sword and held it low at her side as she followed the dirt road up the hill to the grand archway. The heavy doors were already ajar, having been smashed through violently.
The moment she crossed the threshold, a small ambush sprung around her. There were goblins crouched in wait on both sides of the doorway, but they had not accounted for the fact that she expected such an obvious trick. In a lightning-fast whirl, without even glancing at either of them, her sword transformed into a shining blur in the air that whipped left and then right. Both attackers found their heads flying off before they could even poke their spears in her direction. A moment later, their souls discovered what it was like to be devoured as their blood pooled on the grey flagstone floor tiles. The stains of such filth on such beautiful masonry would be regrettable, Fawaris thought, but the gods would surely forgive.
The glow of her spectral meal fading from her skin, Fawaris advanced into the chapel, walking down the aisle between wooden pews, her fierce blue eyes slowly panning left and right as the moonlight shining through the windows fell upon her beautiful features. There were more lurking in this structure; she could smell them, the profound stench of a goblin nest unmistakable and unforgettable. If they had not attacked yet, it meant they realized the threat she presented. Goblins were infamous cowards, and seeing their own hunted down like rats was often enough to send them scrambling to bolt holes and dark nooks. Shattering their flimsy courage made exterminating the lot of them a simple matter. And yet… her instincts were on edge. Something was wrong.
"They may be hiding, but they're watching me closely... like they are hunting prey," Fawaris growled, slowly turning her gaze up to the second story, noticing the crimson eyes glaring down at her from the mezzanine. Unlike the frantic, terrified eyes that had followed her movements up to this point, this stare was calm, controlled, confident. It suggested intelligence far beyond the average goblin, and the very idea sent a chill down her spine.
The figure up there raised a staff capped with a human skull, cried out a command, and all hell broke loose. At least a dozen goblins charged out from doorways and hallways all around the chapel, swift to cut off her route to the exit with a row of spears and clubs. But Fawaris had no intention of fleeing. She was purely here to feast on goblin souls. She was hunting them.
They came at her all at once. They danced around her, leaping over pews, swerving around pillars, swinging off of the rafters above, cunningly using everything in the chapel as cover in their advance. She had to stab between the pews and slash above to fend them off, keeping them at bay with the threat of instant death if they entered her reach. Even so, if they surrounded her, it would be over and she knew it. Fawaris glanced around quickly, formulating a plan.
Before they could encircle her, she dashed for the altar, a raised platform protected by wooden rails and a huge, stone dais, behind which was nothing but wall and high window. Taking up behind the dais which would protect her from arrows and hurled stones, she deprived the goblins of their greatest advantage, forcing them to face her head on. She even claimed the high ground to her own favor, as they would have to climb the steps or over the railings to reach her. Satisfied with her preparations, she smiled with hatred for the creepy little monsters, welcoming them to challenge her, brandishing her sword at the ready.
"Come!" Fawaris hissed, her beautiful long blue nails drawn in tightly like claws around the handle of her blade.
"Get her!" ordered their leader high above in a nasally voice, and the savage things actually obeyed, much to her surprise. The only semblance of discipline to be found in goblin packs was through fear of a mighty leader, and they must have truly dreaded their master if they came at her as furiously as they did. But even that failed them as soon as the first of their brothers lost his left arm for entering her reach, lopped off in a flash of steel. The others, seeing him perish, were much more careful to only come at her simultaneously, many weapons swinging, many voices howling at her.
But she was a master of the blade, veteran of countless battles, and while this combined assault might have overrun anyone less, Fawaris matched it by becoming a dervish of steel, dancing a dance of impeccable footwork and grace that wove between the thrusts of their crude spears and the swings of their heavy clubs. For every attack they hurled clumsily at her, she returned the sentiment with lightning-fast ripostes that stabbed into their hands or legs, disabling them even when she could not spare the time to finish them off. A few arrows flew at her from the shadows, but she weaved out of the way or slashed them out of the air with masterful grace—and the altar shielded her from the rest.
Despite how fiercely she fought, there were always more goblins, spilling out from dark shadows whenever the others broke and fled in bleeding agony before she could kill them. This constant hit-and-run could eventually wear her out, she feared. Worse still, there were many more of the beasts than the reports had suggested, which gave her uneasy goosebumps. How did this pack grow so large? If she had harvested more soul-energy, she would not even fret. Alas, her strength and repertoire of spells were severely limited at the moment, and that was precisely why she had gone on this hunt in the first place. For her efforts, now she was cornered… and she did not have many cards left to play.
"You are all unworthy of my blade!" Fawaris shouted defiantly, her voice echoing above the high-pitched squeals of the grimy rabble. "Honorless mongrels!"
As she held the horde off left and right, with her off hand she called the souls of the slain to herself, reaping the spoils of her hunt. The more of their evil spirits she drank and discarded, the greater her own power blossomed, little by little. It would not amount to much, as none of these were powerful spirits. Yet her foes could see the dark feast, the souls of their own brethren flowing through the air to her. Confronted with the truth of her hunt, the goblins realized she was not just another mortal, but a monster herself. Their morale crumbled, understanding that what awaited them if her edge found their vitals was worse than death.
"Run, if you think you can!" she yelled, the eerie moonlight infusing her figure with an otherworldly aura. The line of savages around the altar flinched at her dominant tone, sounding almost inhuman, as much as they did at the sight of the blood of their kin dripping from her sword. "This is the end of your pathetic lives!"
At last there was a glimpse of hope. Terrified by what they were seeing as well as the fact she seemed invincible, the goblins were starting to falter, growing less and less brazen in their attacks. She could tell that soon they would break; she had seen it before. When their paltry assault collapsed, mopping up the remainder would be nothing more than a chore.
Or so she thought.
"Too late! I win!" yelled the master of the goblins from his vantage point, shaking his rattling staff left and right in a barbaric dance. At first she assumed he was just stupid, which was a reasonable guess for a goblin. Then she noticed the eerie sensation creeping over her flesh, and glanced down at the glowing pink sigils beneath her high heels, hidden under the red holy carpet of the altar pedestal.
With the knowledge of the countless dark tomes she had collected, she recognized the ritual with a gasp. It was a Cursed Circle of Carnal Submission, a forbidden spell of binding that had to be carefully painted in an intricate pattern in human blood ahead of time, as well as required several minutes of chanting and casting to activate. Because of this, it was practically useless in combat. Unless someone were to stand over it for the entire duration of the cast, it would accomplish nothing.
But if those strict conditions were to be somehow satisfied on someone, the resulting effect would be focused, amplified, and especially potent. A ritual like this drew in more and more magic power from the world around as time went on. Like an amplifier of the caster's power, even a weak magician could use this ritual to overwhelm high-grade resistance to magic and strong wills. And if it was a powerful mage using it, then...
Fawaris's eyes widened with shock, lifting a hand to try and counter the spell with her own magic, but it was already too late: the casting was complete. Even Fawaris, bracing for its impact with everything she could muster in that split second, for all her ancient knowledge and vast power, could not withstand it. It crashed into her mind, body, and spirit like a tidal wave. She threw her entire consciousness into fighting back the dark power crackling around her curves, and it only meant that her awareness was swept away in one fell swoop, her nerves ignited like fire, too much for any mind to endure all at once.
The sword dropped from her fingers, thumping onto the carpet. Fawaris collapsed with a cry of defeat, her long nails and beautiful high heels dragging weakly across the rug beneath her as she tried one last time to rise, to no avail. The last sight she saw, as her eyes crept shut, was the faces of her prey leering down at her with crooked, perverted grins. She felt a dozen hands grasp around her body, groping, tearing fabric from her flesh. Just before the darkness of unconsciousness fully overtook her, she heard their leader cackling about how his plan had worked perfectly, and now they had another pet to enjoy.
***
When Fawaris awoke, it was to find herself lying atop a heap of dusty old monk robes that had been piled in a corner—a crude approximation of a bed—with a terrible ache in her belly. As she rubbed the sore spot, Fawaris slowly regained her senses. The dim light in the chamber came solely from oil lamps hanging in the corridor outside, the thick iron bars casting a warped, bending grid of shadow over her and the rest of the jail cell. This was likely the undercroft of the priory, and Fawaris guessed these cells might have been used for keeping thieves and other ne'er-do-wells, at least until official watchmen from the nearby towns could come and collect the prisoners for a proper trial.
Now, however, these walls and bars were the goblins' way of keeping her trapped and powerless.
"Ugh. Not again…" Fawaris groaned. She took in her surroundings, seeing that most of her clothes had been stripped off, leaving only the beautiful black lace thong on her hips, dark stockings clinging to her thighs like a second skin, and her glossy black high heels. As she had guessed, her equipment was missing as well. But what really disturbed her was when, glimpsing down the valley of her bare, exposed breasts, so perfectly perky and flawlessly round despite their gigantic size, she saw why her stomach felt so sore.
A pink tattoo, shaped like a fancy calligraphic heart with flourishing curls, was now inscribed over her womb. As soon as she realized what it was, it flashed an ominous pink, coursing with foreign magical energy that she could not expel or destroy. She traced the lines of the tattoo with a lengthy sky-blue nail in disgust, tingling over her sensitive skin. This was the manifestation of the curse the ritual put upon her, and now it was beyond her own power to remove. If she made it back to the castle, she could find someone to dispel it, or if the living anchor of the binding curse were to perish, it would naturally unravel on its own. In other words, the only way to rid herself of this disturbing mark was to either escape or somehow kill the goblin who had put it on her.
If there was one comfort, it was that the curse was only half-manifested. She could tell by the fact that the tattoo was only the basic shape, lacking the inner symbols and outer horns of true submission. Her desperate resistance to the ritual had actually prevented it from reaching its full strength. It could not bend her will completely like this, but that did not mean she was free from its influence.
Fawaris was startled out of her wandering thoughts by the sound of little footsteps passing by the jail bars. A goblin on guard patrol glanced her way, saw she was awake, and instantly scampered back the way he had come, mumbling something about fetching the boss. Fawaris rose to her feet, walking over to lean against the bars, finding herself still weak and dizzy, but otherwise able to move at least this much.
With her senses dulled as if submerged in water, efforts to peek around the undercroft through the bars achieved little at first. She could see her sword belt and battle-dress resting on some crates across from her cell, but it did her no good at such a distance. When she noticed the other cells, though, the frustration of her equipment being just out of reach became a secondary concern to what she witnessed.
Women, beautiful and naked and glistening with hot sweat, were bouncing under the savage thrusts of goblins. In every cell around hers, other prisoners were kept as little more than slaves, quietly enduring the lusts of the little green monsters with the constant squelching of their sexual organs melding together. These disgusting unions were everywhere she looked, left or right—the entire undercroft was a nonstop orgy, and she was at the heart of it all.
"Nuns!" Fawaris exclaimed, realizing who they must be via the ripped and discarded frocks on the floor. Some were chained with collars to the wall or tied in ropes, whimpering in protest against the thick green manhoods plunging endlessly into their wet flowers. Many were obviously pregnant, having been used like dolls for so long that they would soon be mothers to the wicked progeny of their rapists. Some were already nursing newborn goblins at their breasts with weary, defeated expressions, no light to be found in their eyes. Resistance was long gone from all the holy women, reduced to silent compliance after traitorous pleasures had been drilled into their bodies day after day after day against their wills.
This explained how the horde had grown so numerous, she thought, chewing on one of her long, pretty nails with her fangs.
Not all the women were physically restrained. These beautiful exceptions bore the same cursed mark on their bellies as Fawaris now possessed. The leader of the goblin tribe must have made sure that all the most lovely and strong-willed women were inflicted with this curse. Only, theirs were fully developed, showing they had already given in completely to subservience of their captors. These maidens debased themselves willingly, mewling in pleasure as the evil creatures humped them in brutal mating presses left and right, their voluptuous, fertile bottoms completely pinned underneath wiry, stinking green thugs driving their pricks to the deepest point inside all of them and then unleashing their pungent seed. The satisfaction gleaming in the ugly faces of the monsters in that moment of completion made Fawaris feel sick.
Fawaris grimaced, watching the goblins indulge in their prisoners without end, the greasy, warty invaders seemingly inexhaustible in their desires for women. Before long, she forced herself to look away, unable to bear the sight of such once-pure maidens and older matrons being forced to please the disgusting creatures in even the most degrading and foul ways, even with their mouths. If she recognized the colors and symbols on their ruined garments correctly, they were sworn to chastity, and yet the goblins had absolutely no respect for such vows. All they saw in these sacred priestesses was easy prey.
Her blood boiled as she comprehended the sheer injustice happening all around her, stepping back from the bars to try and calm down. Disasters like this were exactly why she specifically hunted creatures like this to sate her hunger for souls in the first place. They bred like vermin, and they snuck into civilized territories like rats clinging to shadows. One day everything would be fine, and then the next day they would suddenly invade an isolated village or convent…
Right away she considered trying to use her dragon breath to melt through the bars, but she was uncertain if it would even work. Worse, she could see barrels of oil for the lamps sitting right outside her cell, along with many rugs, furs, and tapestries spread around the area. Some of the support beams were wooden, too. An uncontrolled fire could cause the whole undercroft to collapse, and she would not risk the lives of these innocent women on such a thing.
"Kehehehehe! Our new pet is awake at last!" laughed a shrill, ugly voice in front of her.
Fawaris slowly looked up at the voice's source, a hateful hardness set to her eyes unlike anything before. The goblin master had come along with his bodyguards. She was quick to cover up her enormous breasts with an arm, at least making sure they could not see her cute pink nipples. But the gazes of these goblins only seemed all the more delighted by the feeble effort at covering her nudity, as if it made her all the more desirable. Her other hand went between her thighs, a hot blush appearing across her pretty face as she realized they were staring at more than just her massive bust. Whatever the lecherous beasts planned for her, she would never let them have it without a fight.
Briefly examining his champions to note they were remarkably well armed for goblins, and probably the best fighters of the pack, she finally spared a look at the master. Older, taller, his green flesh tone darker than the rest, the spellcaster was balding, only a little tuft of wizened white hair remaining on his scalp. His nose was particularly long and crooked, covered in warts, and he had unusual long fangs peeking out from his lips. Most disturbingly, his eyes glowed an ominous red. His prolonged use of dark magic and forbidden rituals must have corrupted him, changing him to be more than just a goblin, or perhaps had caused partial possession by a dark being. Risks like these would be horrifying to most mortals, but to a monster born as weak as this, she knew power was worth any price, even the warping of his form into something altogether more… wicked.
Carefully examining him, Fawaris tried to reckon the threat he represented. He wore a ratty old robe on his lean, grimy body, one that might once have been a potent artifact but was now ruined by his disgusting lifestyle. The high staff cradled against his shoulder was ornately carved wood capped with a human skull, as she had seen before. The bone itself was inscribed with evil magic glyphs in intricate patterns, she noted, making it a potent magical focus able to steal energy from the world and his own followers to supplement his own magic gifts. These possessions were products of advanced magical theory. Perhaps he had stolen them from a dark wizard, along with spellbooks and other items of his profession. That would explain how a lowly goblin shaman had learned these esoteric arts and grown so powerful.
Could she defeat him? If she had her sword, and she got close enough, she could probably slay him in one or two blows. But in a battle of magic, she did not have access to her strongest sorcery in her current state, and he had the advantage of tools and territory on his side. There was no doubt that he had prepared other magical traps and wards in this priory, perhaps even in her prison cell. That left her with few options, Fawaris judged, even beyond the fact that the curse was weakening her so much she could barely stand up straight.
"Such a pretty woman, such a beau-ti-ful killer! Gonna enjoy taming you, like all the rest! Kehehehe!" the dark magician cackled, pointing a long, gnarly finger at her. He was better-spoken than most of his kind, but that was not saying much.
"How dare you?" Fawaris replied coldly. "I am a proud and noble knight! I will not lose myself to anything as pathetic as you monsters."
Even as she said it, the tattoo flashed bright pink, and a strange pang of stinging heat struck her in the core. Fawaris fought the urge to shiver at the unnatural sensation and stifled an undesired whimper in her throat. It seemed even just trying to insult him caused the curse to punish her.
"Proud, keh, noble, keheh!" he laughed mockingly, leering at her body with his scarlet eyes. As one of his companions lifted a lantern higher, she got a better look through the shadows, and she realized that his pupils were like hers: slit like a demonic tiger. Those evil eyes narrowed at the sight of her curse mark, and a horrifying grin of sharp, crooked fangs bared itself. "You a soul-eating lich, a monster, no different from us! Just prettier!"
"There are worlds of difference between us!" Fawaris growled back at him, incensed by the idea. She threw a hand out as if to slap the very idea aside, realizing she had just revealed her breasts with a gasp of dismay, and quickly covered them again as the foul creatures giggled with delight at the sight.
"I do not harm the innocent! I do not take women against their will! I collect knowledge, but I also share it with all who wish to learn! You don't just rape and kill, you steal knowledge, you keep it to yourself, for your own benefit alone! You are savage!" Fawaris paused, flinching at the throb in her belly. "Horrid!" she panted, feeling weaker, needing to catch her breath before the next insult. "Evil to the very bone!" she exclaimed, finally forced to grab the tattoo on her belly as it summoned waves of punishing pleasure through her. Her huge, round breasts squished together sumptuously between her arms as she fought down the unnatural impulse of arousal crawling through her belly.
The goblins staring through the jail bars laughed, watching her squirm from the cursed tattoo's effects. With her breasts completely bare again, they could ogle her fertile, snow-white mountains without restraint, and Fawaris had to endure their humiliating amusement by biting her thick and beautiful lip with a long, pretty fang. If she hurled even one more insult, no matter how furious and ashamed she was, she would only be worsening the situation. She sank down to a squat with her legs closed shut, breasts mashing into her knees, and wrapped her arms around, covering herself as best she could.
"I born through what you call evil! Do I not have right to exist?" asked the goblin leader, a rare and unexpected moment of philosophical inquiry from such a being. "I, Kedzort the Magnificent, not allow my people to be hunted by cruel mortals! Treat us as monsters? Then we become true monsters to survive! Keheheheh!"
His shrill, spiteful laughter undercut whatever point he thought he was making. He was enjoying his dark deeds, not doing them out of necessity. Fawaris could have easily pointed this out, but she saw it was a fool's errand. None of his band actually cared about morality, let alone cared what she had to say—they embraced sin like they breathed. Even before Fawaris came after them, they were doing these horrible things purely to benefit themselves and satisfy their desires.
"Release these women, bury the dead you have desecrated, then leave and never return to these lands, and I will spare you. For now," Fawaris snapped back, a threat, the only thing they would understand.
And it was fruitless, as she knew. They just laughed at her again. She had no power at the moment, and even these little idiots could see that.
"I gonna enjoy hearing your defiance crumble away like all these so-called holy virgins. Gonna use you to birth to the next generation of my kind, replace all goblin-kin you killed!" Kedzort chuckled ominously.
Fawaris found that a rare reason to smirk in all of this, smug as a cat. "You might find that second part rather difficult," she said, hoping to discourage him.
"Kehehehe! We shall see!" Kedzort laughed, undaunted. Fawaris chewed on her lip nervously. Did he know a forbidden spell or ritual, some demonic power at his fingertips, or were his body and soul so warped by his use of dark magic that he could reproduce with a true undead like her? It was possible, as much as she hated to admit it. And the idea of him getting his wish made her skin crawl.
"We begin the training!" growled the goblin lord, gesturing with his staff. "Bring most beautiful holy whore Atara to me!"
***
Fawaris stayed right where she was, glaring up at Kedzort in silence. If not for this accursed mark on her stomach, she would have been gladly hurling abuse at him with the finest barbs her tongue could unleash. But even thinking about strangling him in her hands or chopping him to pieces was enough to make the tattoo respond punitively with more tingles of heat in her core. She already felt gooey between her legs, fuzzy and warm, hollow and needy. She was wet, and she knew it, and that was why she refused to stand up anymore and let the monsters see it soaking through her pretty black lace thong.
It did not take long for his warriors to return with the nun he had demanded. Their most beautiful, he had said, and Fawaris noted she truly was a jewel of the convent. She was young, tall, tanned, and slender, a kemonomimi catgirl, with the most beautiful ruby-red hair and feline ears and tail. Completely naked save for a loose iron collar dangling around her neck, pink curse tattoo blazing hot on her belly, the quiet girl slowly massaged her own breasts, very large and heavy, while the goblins escorting her groped her full and lush tanned bottom. Her tail slowly curled sensuously around the guards' heads, wrapping their faces up with sweet-smelling red fur as she moaned quietly at the pleasure coursing through her body just from their sleazy touches alone.
And when Kedzort looked to her, he wasted no time on words. He lifted the bottom of his tattered robes, baring his manhood in all its foul glory. Fawaris stared at it with wide eyes and a traitorous pang of lust in her loins, for goblins were naturally very gifted in size—especially for their height—but Kedzort's cock, already completely hard, was worthy of a small horse. It was unnatural and terrifying, covered in disgusting warts and strange, pulsing red lines and swollen ridges of glowing power. What dark bargain had he signed to gain the power now coursing through it?
"State your name," Kedzort growled.
"I am Sister Atara," said the gorgeous catgirl.
"State your purpose," the dark magician commanded.
"I am a vessel for goblin desires," Atara continued.
"And your greatest joy?"
"That I have repented from my foolish vow of chastity. And that in my new freedom, I have borne many children for you, Master," Atara smiled warmly, her cheeks flushed beet red, her pupils dilated with the addictive bliss of the cursed mark.
"Leave her alone! You disgusting filth!" Fawaris yelled, unable to bear watching such an appalling script play out before her eyes, even if her defiant words triggered another wave of pleasure and a barely-repressed urge to moan. Atara only glanced at Fawaris for a moment, as if trying to understand in the haze of her cursed desires what the knight had said, but Kedzort's voice drew her back into the hypnotic bliss he had forced upon her.
"Very good! Show new guest how to serve me, Atara! Kehehehe!" Kedzort laughed.
Without any complaint or hesitation, the young nun sank down to her knees in front of her small master, grabbing his throbbing, swarthy green prick up in her hand. Blushing at its size, she guided it into the plushness of her thick, soft lips as casually as though she were pushing a sword into its rightful sheath. Moaning as her tongue lapped anxiously at his tip to taste his greasy manhood so eagerly, she wrapped her mouth around his thick crown and began gently, softly, suckling upon him. Instantly he throbbed against her sweet and earnest ministrations, hard swells of veiny, dark mass against her loving licks and kisses, and a spurt of precome instantly shot into her mouth, sucked up to the last drop.
Kedzort grabbed Atara by her hair, petting her approvingly with an evil grin. "Good!" he praised her, before shoving her head down, forcing her to take more of his countless heavy inches into her throat with a wet slosh. Atara let out a surprised moan into his green pillar, eyes going wide for a moment. It was like a fleeting glimpse of her true self came through the charm spell in that moment, horrified at what she was tasting and doing. Fawaris's heart sank as she watched the catgirl rapidly calm down as the evil heat of her cursed mark returned her to obliging servitude.
Atara's hand slowly dragged up and down the length of the goblin cock that she could not fit into her mouth, jerking Kedzort roughly as her lips kissed lovingly around him. She was anything but gentle with him, her fingers and long, red-painted nails that matched her hair teasing all over the inhuman ridges and disgusting bumps of his manhood. At the same time, she ran her tongue out and swished it around his thick, suffocating girth, lewdly slurping and sucking as her saliva ran down his burning-hot shaft. She polished him to an oily sheen, inch by inch, completely in love with him, staring up into his burning red gaze with the most beautiful, almost innocent red glow on her maidenly cheeks.
Fawaris blushed as she watched Atara service the monster, feeling lewd aches twinge between her legs every time she wanted to kill Kedzort, which was almost constantly. Enduring that constant torment, she saw Atara's huge boobs shift and wobble from the force of her mouth bobbing on the goblin's penis. Atara was so beautiful, so fertile, so sexy, a nubile rose of the convent whom she would have liked to woo for herself (if not for her vows of chastity, of course). The holy maiden was leaking between her legs, long wet strands of arousal dripping to the floor beneath her, as if she was being pleasured as much as the goblin shaman simply by the act of making her sworn master feel good. Fawaris realized to her horror that she, also, was feeling hotter and hotter the more the demonstration continued. It was as if Kedzort's pleasure echoed through their curse marks, rewarding every single woman he had enslaved at once.
Shutting an eye as she tried to fight the urges, Fawaris could not stop her own hand from stealthily slipping down between her shut thighs. She gingerly touched at herself through her tight thong, feeling how wet and sensitive she had become with a whimper of itching arousal. Just that tiny, insignificant tap of her own long blue fingernail up along the dark lace outlining her pussy almost made her squeal. Despite her disgust, the moment she felt the sensation of electric fire that jolted through her lovely slit, she wanted more.
The knightess began to pant very quietly, hot air pumping in and out of her lungs, trying to focus her thoughts and cool off. But the indecent show of fellatio continued outside her cell longer and longer, and temptation won her over little by little. Feeling like she was sliding down a long, creepy slope of debauchery, yet unable to help it, Fawaris silently slid her fingers under her thong and stroked her bare wet pussy. Shifting uncomfortably in her high-heeled squat, her hips very slowly twisted left and right from the hot shocks of pleasure. She just had to try to take the edge off of her arousal before the goblins noticed how horny she was becoming.
"Good whore! Take reward!" the goblin master cackled, and the air changed around him. Women all across the undercroft started moaning louder, stimulated by their evil tattoos. Fawaris as well felt breathless, on edge, and it did not take long to figure out why. His heavy green testes between his wiry legs began to wobble and hop, a terrible proof of what was to come rushing out through his pulsing shaft. Fawaris realized just in time to pull her hand away from her hot wet honeypot, just before the shaman unleashed his pent-up lusts into Atara's throat. The nun gagged instantly, too much seed flowing into her mouth to even begin to swallow it all, and the excess spilled out from her lips, dripping onto her heavy bosoms as she gulped thirstily.
"Keeeheehehee!" laughed Kedzort, watching his sex slave struggle with his prodigious load. After she had swallowed her fill, he ripped his cock free from her mouth, leaving the nun gasping for fresh air as his pungent seed rained down over her face, hair, and chest, aiming especially for her open mouth. The holy maiden caught as much of it on her tongue as she could, while Fawaris flinched at the sudden bolt of lightning that rolled up from her womb, leaving her dizzy and disoriented, at the itching, hollow cusp of orgasm narrowly unfulfilled. The curse, even only half-set, was almost overwhelming as she had feared.
And when Kedzort was done rewarding Atara for her loving worship, he turned to Fawaris, dark power shimmering in his crimson eyes. "Now you understand, yes-yes, you see what you will become for me!"
Atara leaned in, gently cupping his big, grimy balls with one of her hands, her long red nails gently tickling them. "Master… may I have more, please?" she begged sweetly, even if she was half-painted with his essence that stained her from head to red high heel.
Kedzort, distracted by the pleading, sneered down at the girl and shoved her towards his warriors. "No! I tame new woman now. You are just toy for my war dogs!"
Atara looked hurt by his coldness to her, almost enough to cry. Then one long, strong green dick after another appeared around her as the savages prepared to have their turns with the lewd catgirl, driven to a fever of lust by the show. Her pretty green eyes widened with delight, and her lips parted in a sing-song purr of joy, "Ahh! There's so many cocks! Are they all for me~?"
Fawaris wanted to scream, seeing how broken and welcoming the poor maiden was as the skinny, ugly little creatures pinned her down and slammed into every hole they could, or rubbed their greasy pricks against her breasts, thighs, or tail. But she knew the master of this pack of monsters was not going to leave her to watch Atara's wild gangbang for long. Kedzort came up to the bars with absolute arrogance, mere inches away from Fawaris, so sure that she would not try to kill him. Fawaris bit her lip, wishing she had regained just a bit more power, but there was no such luck. None of the spells she could use at the moment would be enough to defeat him. For now, she had no choice but to play along and endure whatever sick games he had in mind for her.
***
Atara moaned in stifled ecstasy, her curvy body bouncing nonstop as five goblins thrust at her at the same time. One was buried deep in her welcoming pussy, another clapped into her big, soft ass, one was humping her suckling mouth with frenzied growls, a fourth was using her soft and warm tail to jerk himself off, and the last goblin was rubbing his long, hard prick between her full breasts. Combined, it was a suffocating, merciless assault that would leave her completely and utterly pregnant before the monsters were finished enjoying her. But she was enjoying them just as much, her oath of chastity completely abandoned, addicted to the dark desires of these terrible beasts.
But Fawaris was only watching the girl's breeding in the corner of her eye. Her attention was squarely upon the chief of the goblins, the dark magician, who was determined to enslave her to his lusts just as brutally as he had these nuns.
His gnarled old green fingers closed around one of the prison bars, unnaturally long, his dirty long nails scratching into the iron like claws. "You eat lots of goblin souls," Kedzort giggled mischievously, "now you eat goblin dick!"
With that declaration, he thrust his monumental cock between the bars, already swelling back up to its full hardness despite his ejaculation mere moments ago. Fawaris realized only when she saw the powerful manhood rising before her eyes just how close she was to him, observing the mystic power surging in scarlet patterns through the mighty ridges and squishy warts of his shaft. Whatever had become of his penis, by reading the flow and shape of the magic markings, she gradually understood that it was an arcane mirror of the cursed mark on her own midriff—like a dark curse of masculine authority, to match a curse of feminine slavery. Whatever the price for this curse was, its blessings were quite obvious. As her eyes traced from the heavy, curse-tattooed testicles hanging between his legs, up the veins and cursed marks of his dark, virile pillar, to the warty crown capping it, she saw slimy white seed ooze from his tip and drip to the floor, leftovers of his reward to Atara for her loyalty.
"Who do you think I am? One of your pets? A possession that exists solely for your pleasure?!" Fawaris snapped at him furiously. "How dare you!"
"What does curse say?" Kedzort asked, wagging a finger at her with a grin across his wicked fangs.
Squatting and curled up as she was, the mark was invisible. Fawaris, morbidly curious, spread her thighs and glanced down. When she did, her breath caught in her throat—for the interior of the dark heart mark had filled in with a demonic face, leering eyes and grinning fangs glowing with pink, forbidden energy. All that was missing now were the evil horns to sprout from the edges of the tattoo.
"What?!" Fawaris exclaimed, aghast. The foul lust-hex had progressed this much? Why?
"Naughty naughty naughty lich! Touched herself like lusty bitch!" Kedzort cackled, his clever rhyme echoing into her ears as she stared in horror at the proof of what she had done. "Saw the games her master plays! Wants to join, so she obeys!"
"No! I only needed to clear my head, so I could think!" Fawaris protested feebly. She grabbed the cursed tattoo, as if trying to banish it through sheer force of will, her arm smushing into a huge, lovely breast. "If it weren't for this curse, I would be…"
She forgot what she was trying to say. Fawaris looked at his huge penis again, realizing her mouth was watering against her will. She gulped nervously, forcing her eyes off of the member with a heavy gasp. It stank as bad as it looked, a fetid, musky, masculine scent she could never find alluring. Or so she told herself.
Kedzort smiled menacingly, seeing her strength to defy him crumbling. "Ooh, strong woman! Not horny? Let's gamble!" Kedzort suggested, eyes glinting evilly down at her. "You suck me good, you don't come, I let you go! You free to run then! But if you lose, or you don't make me happy… curse complete!"
Fawaris glared up into his disgusting face, his slimy grin, feeling hot juices running down her thighs. "We both know you won't uphold such a promise," she hissed at him, defiant. He would never play fair. That was why he had put this curse on her.
"Keheheheh!" Kedzort laughed at her. "Where pride now, swordswoman? Just gonna give up? You coward, weakling!"
Her heart palpitated in her chest, anger boiling and mixing with lust as he twisted the knife. Unlike all the abuse to this point, to have her courage and pride disrespected was a step too far. She was a knight, a warrior who had slaughtered dozens of these bastards, not some street tramp, and most certainly not his little pet! Growling, Fawaris leaned in, baring her fangs as she forced herself to see and smell his swollen, bumpy manhood up close. She stopped just before she touched it, one eye covered by its girth, the other eye glaring at him with open hatred.
"Give up? I'll show you," she hissed, determination pulsing through her heart. "I'll show you I'm not your doll. When this is over, you'll know that no matter how much you cheat, no matter how many curses you lay upon me, you'll never truly satisfy me as a woman, you disgusting little beast!"
Despite squatting on her high heels like a prostitute serving a customer, Fawaris was not doing this to seduce him, nor to make him feel good. She was doing this to prove her mettle: sending a message to this freak that she would never truly be his. Yet despite telling herself this, she could not quite shake the fire building between her thighs... which she quickly closed shut, before any of her captors could admire the runny mess of her damp arousal.
Breathing deeply to focus, Fawaris considered the club-like green appendage before her, the shaman's breeding staff. It was huge, daunting, intimidating just to look at. Worse still, the memory of Atara's face beaming with joy servicing it was fresh in her mind. But she had no intention of playing fair either. She was going to beat this monster at his own game, reverse their roles of domination and submission, which she hoped would stalemate the curse's evolution as well. Her pride as a knight, and as a woman, was on the line.
Fawaris took hold of her perky breasts, her trump card in this game. Each pillowy hill was much larger than her own head, like massive snowy mountains capped with stiff pink peaks. They jiggled as she handled them with her soft fingers and long, beautiful blue nails, radiating abundant beauty and health. Before he realized what was happening, she pushed her chest out, mashing her jugs around the base of his overgrown pillar, engulfing him in the flesh of her bosoms, warm and as soft as clouds around his warty knob.
"Geh?!" Kedzort exclaimed, surprised by the clasp of her heavy jugs around him, holding him in place.
Fawaris smirked at his surprise, gently rubbing around him at first. The way his cock throbbed powerfully in response proved it was working perfectly. At this rate, she could easily drain him with just her chest alone, and then she would relish rubbing it in his face. Eager to be done with this, to prove how pathetic he really was, she pushed her hands together to tighten her huge tits around him, forging a suffocating vice of the softest, smoothest, most beautiful boobs.
"Let go!" the shaman hissed, trying to pull away from her, but she had him completely trapped in her tits.
"Ask nicely," Fawaris growled savagely, watching precome fly out of his tip, seeing it fall down onto her breasts. This lubrication pouring out and lathering was quite useful, allowing her to rub and squeeze and drag her hot cushions up and down his length with only the barest friction. His purple crown ached and pulsed hard in front of her face, and she could see the mage losing control as his manhood was lavished in luxurious love. At the same time, the more she continued, the more she realized his hard green penis felt good against her tender skin, making her breasts tingle warmly as she dragged them along his shaft. Her body was just too sensitive, she thought.
"Please!" he groaned, starting to hump her breasts with beastly need, making them jiggle hard with every thrust. The rise and fall of his impressive length was hypnotic, disappearing down into the massive crevice of her chest only to surge back up all the way to eye-level. Fawaris realized she was almost enjoying his desperation, his need, especially as more and more precome leaked and spurted from him and lathered over her sensitive tits.
"Can you say it as a sentence?" Fawaris asked with a sadistic, almost draconic sneer on her lips, slipping into old habits as librarian, always correcting people's grammar.
"P-please... let go!"
"Let who go?"
"Please let me go!"
"No," Fawaris chuckled darkly. Now that she had him where she wanted him, she bared her fangs openly at him in a murderous scowl, showing how little she cared for his desires or being nice. She just squeezed his cock up tighter and started bouncing her breasts up and down all the more forcefully, matching the rhythm of his thrusts to make sure every single movement was as powerful as possible. She was not enjoying this, she told herself, but she did enjoy making the horrible little gremlin squirm and beg. After all he had done to her and other women, this was the closest thing to revenge she could enjoy at the moment.
Engrossed in this debauchery, Fawaris did not even notice the lock of her thighs slowly opening, parting, spreading out wide, revealing herself without even thinking. She was too busy trying to ignore the hot aches of the curse boiling in her belly, like fire in her womb, begging for relief, and the cool air flowing between her bare legs helped just a little bit. Nearby, she heard semen splattering into Atara's orifices, goblins cackling and groaning and unleashing their pent-up seed into the welcoming catgirl. She could not spare another glance to the nun's impregnation because her eyes were locked on the cock sliding up to her lips, obsessing over every little throb and spurt of precome it offered up to her as she tormented it with her womanly softness.
The pangs of lust in her belly were as regular as her heartbeat now, fuzzy and warm and hollow, like she needed to be filled. Despite her efforts, the shaman's willpower was proving greater than she expected. Fawaris saw the goblin shaft thrust up through her hot valley to her face again, and, impatient, she wrapped her fangs around it, catching it in her mouth with a ferocious growl in her throat. Kedzort froze up, as if he was terrified to try and pull back, until her tongue moved.
Like a sea of shifting moisture and velvety-red pleasure, her tongue slid up along the sensitive tip of his cock, tasting him and the drooling liquids coming out. She winced—the flavor was terrible and sour, as she expected—but Fawaris tightened the seal of her big, soft lips around his meat and lapped at him even more. Every drag of her soft, soft tongue against his wide, heavy glans made him shiver in restrained delight, and it also made her beautiful pussy twitch and wink with animal desire. He was gritting his teeth now, gripping the jail bars desperately, struggling not to lose to her.
With only one eye open in the disgust she felt, she slowly bobbed her mouth up and down his green, powerful inches not pinned between her tits. She rolled and swished her tongue around his purple cap in sensual circles, much to the goblin's cackling delight. He must have thought he was winning just because she was sucking him off now. But she was no blushing nun, no sacred virgin. She was an ancient monster, and she was going to teach this upstart his place.
She sucked on him harder, using the strength of her powerful lips and huge chest kneading around him to make him tremble and groan and sweat like the pig he was. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft as she pushed her lips down to the fertile fissure between her enormous, jiggling tits, taking him into her throat, tasting and smelling his nasty aura and accepting it all. She felt something give in her master—no, why would she think like that? He was her enemy. But she felt his energy change, and suddenly he started thrusting again, trying to fill up her fanged mouth with as many of his hot inches as he could, his massive, grimy balls slapping into the bottom of her breasts from the sheer savagery of his rhythm. Her voice began before she could stop it—muffled moans around his veiny girth, every time he slid in.
Why did it feel so good? Fawaris could barely think, only throw herself twice as passionately into servicing the ugly, stinking goblin. She felt so desperate, so thirsty, so desperate, she did not even realize her expression had changed from one of disgust to one of longing, gazing up into his blazing red eyes with open need to taste his seed. He was so big that it almost hurt every time he forced into her throat, and she could barely breathe whenever he pulled back. Every time she was able to get a little air, she spent it moaning into his turgid, thrusting flesh, "Mmph, mmmh, mmm~! Mmrr, mmm, huff, mmm~!"
Soon Fawaris realized she wanted him to release what was packed so tightly in his overgrown balls. She wanted to taste it, his evil essence. She worked harder and harder for it, fighting his mighty meat, strangling it in the comfort of her massive tits and the succor of her beautiful mouth, lashing the green pillar around and around with her devilishly quick tongue. This beastly prick was hers to tame, hers to conquer, pleasure thrilling between her legs the closer and closer he came to surrender.
"Ugh! Keeehehe, arrrgh! Nngggh! Such a thirsty pet!" Kedzort laughed, truly at the edge of his wits. She felt him slam his hips into the cushy clasp of her cleavage, slippery and moist like a woman's flower, his rod pushing into the back of her mouth as her eyes glazed over with the curse mark's hot reward rolling through her body for bringing her lord to orgasm.
Splurrrrt. Splorch. Splotch.
She heard the wet, lewd sounds when his semen started pumping, flying into her mouth in thick, dense streams of stinky seed. Then that raunchy flavor hit her, strong and bitter. It was like syrup running down her throat, swallowing endlessly, but it was so sticky it clung to everything it touched, trickling so slowly down to her belly. Everything tingled inside of her body, as if his dark seed was starting to affect her somehow. Or maybe it was just the lewd thought of his creamy load pooling in her stomach that made her feel this good.
Fawaris drank him like she drank the souls of the goblins before: smugly, efficiently, and with a strange sense of satisfaction. She felt herself balancing perilously on the edge of her own climax, but she had held together somehow. For a moment there, she had started to think in a strange way, with thoughts that did not seem natural. But in the end she prevailed: She had beaten him, and the old bastard goblin lost his gamble.
Basking in the hot satisfaction pulsing between her legs, and the pride of victory, Fawaris swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of goblin cum without complaint, without slowing even for a second. The knightess moaned into the cock she was sucking so hard, her cheeks hollowing with the force of her suction, bobbing her head, drawing out rope after rope of his foul load as he shuddered and held onto the jail bars in the heights of ecstasy. He was spending his semen into her throat, wasting it completely, his heavy, veiny, glowing orbs leaping by their own pumping force into the base of her breasts, and she counted every little hop they made one by one, each bringing out another stream of spunk for her to savor.
She could almost understand how Atara would enjoy this kind of thing, Fawaris thought at the back of her mind. Excess seed ran from her mouth, falling onto her huge breasts, painting them with streaks of fecund white juice. But she was able to drink much more of it than the enslaved nun managed to. She almost drained the wicked magician completely dry without spilling a drop, and she felt strangely proud of it. Briefly the thought occurred to Fawaris that this was surely not something to be proud of... but that concern passed in the next moment as the curse mark burned warmly, tingly on her skin.
At last, the flow of his essence receded, and Fawaris popped off of his cock with a gasp of air, panting hotly, a wayward lock of her beautiful white hair clinging to her cheek. She was blushing, a satisfied grin on her lips, dragging her hand over her breasts so she could lick her fingers clean, licking her soft tongue all the way up to the tip of her long blue nails, consuming as much of the cum smeared on her skin as possible. "My goodness, how virile," she mumbled, feeling dizzy. It was like she could taste the raw potential in his semen, she thought, the power to impregnate almost any woman in just a few drops. Perhaps even her, too.
Kedzort was left hanging onto the bars like a man drained of more than just seed. It was like she had sucked the life force from his body, weary and tired, and yet his smile never left him. "Very good!" he chuckled, catching his breath. "Surprising skill! Not a virgin, eh?"
Fawaris frowned at the accusation and the implication beneath the words, but even as she showed that indignant expression, she did not even notice her other hand creeping down her belly to rub gently between her wide-spread, squatting legs. Her womanhood was so numb, so itchy, so wet that it felt awfully uncomfortable, and her arm moved without her consideration to try and tug her tight thong free of the sticky mess. As soon as her fingers brushed over the sopping wet fabric pinched between her hot labia, the sudden touch made her let out a cute "Ah!" and arch her back for a moment, her massive bosoms bouncing from the sudden jerk. This final, unintentional stroke was the final straw.
Her pussy pulsed hard, and Fawaris moaned, rubbing herself down there with long, hard presses of her fingers, nails dragging up her aching honeypot. At the same time, her other hand grabbed one of her massive breasts, squeezing and kneading it through her trembling climax, panting hard. She moaned uncontrollably, working her sensitive body through her own accidental orgasm, unable to think, becoming nothing more than a quivering vessel for pleasure.
And as the price for this relief, the curse mark blazed on her belly brighter than ever before, devil horns engraving themselves upon her fair, smooth belly, the tattoo of dark submission finally complete. The goblin master saw this, and he sneered at her evilly.
"You win game," admitted Kedzort, his eyes blazing with crimson desire, cock rising back to full size in no time at all. His stamina seemed to flow right back into his wiry body, reinvigorated by the proof of her defeat. "You may leave!"
***
Kedzort grabbed his staff and tapped it into the ground. The door of the cell swung open with the spell he cast, and Fawaris, still dizzy and recovering from her earth-shattering climax, looked to the opportunity to go free with wide eyes. She could just walk right out, escape, be free. She could rally a unit of the Knights of Barghest to help her put down this infestation of monsters. She could even rescue these poor, tormented women, spare them any further humiliation and slavery.
The gorgeous knightess rose to her feet, taking a step toward the door. She made it to the doorframe, grabbing the iron bars on both sides of her beautiful, curvy body, panting heavily, her thoughts light and thin and melting away. For a single moment, she looked at her sword, so close she could almost reach out and grab it. She looked to the chief of the goblins, realizing that in one swift motion, she could draw her blade and decapitate him. Then her eyes looked at his manhood, so tall, so strong, a dark green tower of masculine fertility.
Fawaris had won... so why did she feel like she had lost? She had just enjoyed a meal that should have been miserable and humiliating, yet felt exhilarating. And yet even for all the semen she drank, even for all the smug pleasure of having tamed his beastly cock with her breasts and lips, even having just cummed her brains out at the smallest touch, she still felt so empty, so hollow, so unfulfilled. Her sensitive body screamed for help, for true satisfaction, driven to the edge of her wits.
Then a thought occurred to her, as she stared longingly at the goblin penis throbbing in the air. She thought of Atara, remembering the joy that beautiful catgirl felt as goblins pinned her down and rutted her like animals. The holy maiden was so happy when she became one with these filthy little monsters. Fawaris wanted to be happy, too. It would only take a few minutes of sex to sate her aching lusts. Then she could leave.
The curse mark was complete. But Fawaris was not. She was so lonely, and she could not bear it another second. What good was freedom without a master to serve?
Fawaris let out a single, desperate squeak, almost a whimper. She chewed on her lip, eying Kedzort's manhood with open longing now. And where words failed her, her body knew what to do. First, the underwear on her hips had to go. She hooked a blue fingernail under the strap of her thong, and she slowly dragged it down. She was only dimly aware that the goblins were watching her eagerly—but knowing that made her feel warm, good, not grossed out and creeped out. After a few moments of this motion, the garment finally slipped down her stocking-covered legs to land around her tall high heels, and she stepped out of it with a strange, warm sense of finality and freedom from the constricting lace that before she had thought of as her last piece of armor against their glaring eyes.
Her long, sexy nails dragged down the iron bars as she sank to her knees, her lips opening in a needy moan. It was a controlled, slow fall to her knees, turning around, her hands going to the stone floor beneath her. She knew how to beg for what she needed without even saying a word, so she stuck her huge, perfectly round ass out. For the first time she felt no shame whatsoever in letting these leering monsters gaze upon her nudity. And they did see her completely now, not just her massive, hanging tits, or her sumptuous soft rump, but also her wet, hungry pussy completely bare and uncovered for them to admire and use.
Fawaris panted on her hands and knees, saying nothing, only a little whine escaping her lips as she felt her master approaching, hearing his nasty little chuckles, knowing by the pulses of her curse mark that he was growing more and more delighted with her flawlessly subservient behavior. If he had any remaining doubts as to whether it was safe to pounce on her, they vanished from his mind when he saw and smelled the arousal on her slit. When the shaman's warty fingers touched her soft cheeks, sinking into the doughy, firm, cushiony fullness of her bottom, she moaned on the spot—his slimy grasp was an unbearably pleasant precursor to the salvation she sought, even if minutes earlier she would have rather died than endure an indignity like this from such a horrid little creature.
"Yes," Fawaris whined, peering over her shoulder at him behind her. "Please..."
"Full sentences!" Kedzort commanded mockingly, slapping her booty hard enough to leave a red handprint on her snowy, soft bottom.
"Oh!" she exclaimed heatedly, turned on even more by his harsh punishment. "Yes, master! Use my lewd body as much as you want!"
He spanked her other buttcheek just as hard, a second crimson print left by his hand as she whimpered with unrepressed desire.
"Tell me what you want!" he ordered, demanding her to confess precisely what she craved from him.
Fawaris panted hotly at the stinging of his slaps. "Please, my lord, ram your big, hard cock into my naughty, needy pussy! Fuck me!"
The goblin giggled in his high-pitched voice, his wart-nosed face contorting into the most terrible expression of evil delight. Eager to finally claim his beautiful new pet, he grabbed her by her wide, sexy hips, perfect for bearing children. He lined up his manhood with her oozing pink slit. And he thrust in with his staff, spreading her wide the moment his bumpy purple crown slipped past her pale outer lips into the lewd, glistening pink folds beyond.
"Ahhhn!" Fawaris cried out, eyes closing shut at the intensity of his hot, veiny, cursed shaft digging into her loving passage. Her long, beautiful nails clutched the stone bricks beneath her, scratching along them as her legs spread out wider, her sexy high heels dragging on the ground to encourage him to sink in deeper. Her body was made for him, it felt like, and his entry was an unbearable moment of excitement and pleasure.
The deeper he slid into her, the more her body welcomed him, her hot, wet pink folds wrapping up around his ridged shaft with unrestrained adoration. Her womanly passage was so sensitive she felt every inch that plunged into her as though it were a mile, every second an eternity of pleasure, and Fawaris giggled, licking her lips with wanton delight.
"More!" Fawaris moaned. He replied with another thrust, slamming his hips into her big, beautiful rear, smushing her soft, pale cheeks with his pelvis. Fully buried inside of her, she felt him penetrate into her deepest, most precious sanctuary as a woman, and Fawaris groaned at the twinges of hot pleasure rolling through her belly. Her curse mark had prepared her for this—she felt nothing but numb joy to finally be filled with her lord's meat, throbbing in her to the very core, completely one at last.
"Yes! Harder! Don't stop!" Fawaris gasped. Kedzort needed no further goading, for he burst into a hard, rough rut, slamming his cock into her at a savage rhythm of pure, unrestrained desire. He fucked her doggy-style, her huge, round tits bouncing and dragging on the floor as her body rolled forwards from the force of his impacts. Despite the demeaning position, her face blushed red as a beet, smiling with joy, moaning for him amidst the loud, wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of her tight, powerful honeypot.
"It feels great! Amazing~!" Fawaris praised him as his nasty, filthy, veiny goblin cock dragged through her rippling, pure, beautiful pink folds. Her pretty vulva kissed like gorgeous lips around his huge, dark green pillar. Every thrust seemed to stretch her insides wider and deeper by his meat which was like the size of her own arm, and almost seemed to be getting bigger, as though his dark magic was empowering it through contact with the curse in her womb.
"Keeehe, kaaahaa!" Kedzort laughed wickedly, clapping against her harder and harder, driving himself into his big, obedient sex slave with nothing short of his finest effort. Despite being milked twice, it was like these were only appetizers to him, and now his true stamina and strength and virility were being unleashed upon her as reward for submission.
"Please, my lord!" Fawaris managed to say between loud, heavy pants of pleasure. "I n-need it! I need your..."
"Ekkekekekeke, say it!" he roared.
"I need your cum~!" Fawaris screamed shamefully, her body growing weaker and weaker as the pleasure surpassed what any woman could ever hope to endure. The magic rushing through her belly from her curse mark was simply too much, but so was the barbaric pounding the shaman was forcing upon her. Their mating sounded like a constant plap-plap-plap that just got louder, heavier, rougher, his long nails scratching along her fertile hips, slapping her sumptuous ass to make her yelp and cry out in surges of pain and pleasure mingling as one. Then that threshold of overwhelming sensation was completely shattered by what happened next.
Becoming a piston of green cock grinding into her swallowing pussy, the monster chuckled with every thrust he gave her, his voice growing louder as his stamina reached its limit. "GrrrrRRRRAAAAGH!" the nasty goblin howled, one massive, pounding crash of his hips into her backside, then another, slowing from frantic humping down to focused, brutal lightning strikes of all his strength clashing with her hot pussy that just seemed insatiable no matter how much dick he fed into it. These slow, mighty spears of his length straight into her deepest depths ended on the fourth stroke, his swollen, greasy testicles slapping into her thighs as he buried himself to the absolute hilt into her womanly grail—and then granted her the reward she had been craving ever since she took on the curse.
The wet splash, the throbbing of his meat, the nasty sloshing of his flowing cum filled the air of the undercroft. Fawaris's eyes rolled back, glazing over as her arms gave out and she rested on her tremendous tits, cheek to the ground, mouth hanging open in a desirous, salacious cry of pure, utter ecstasy. Feeling his seed crash into the walls of her womb, filling her up, flooding her with pungent goblin spunk, especially strong at that, was too much for her to bear. Her hands held the bars on either side of her, nails scratching at the steel, while her beautiful ass shivered against the goblin and his churning, leaping testes. She felt his load flowing into her like an endless river of magma, so hot, so powerful, as if her pussy had been made to receive every last drop.
"Ooohhhh~," Fawaris moaned incoherently, completely adrift in the sea of semen he poured into her. There was so much of it that it spilled out of her onto the ground, and yet he kept on cumming, and she could not even count the minutes that his ejaculation lasted. It was completely unnatural, even monstrous, and she loved every second of it.
Even after he had pulled out of her stuffed sheath, his green greatsword finally flagging a bit from the sheer rough breeding he had given the sexy knightess, Kedzort's grin never went away. He relished his victory to the fullest, admiring the horrible mess he had made of her. When his warriors and raiders gathered up around him, scoundrels and monsters one and all, the master of the pack lifted his staff up high, and declared:
"Take her! Use new bitch as you please! Curse mark make her fertile! If she not pregnant already, then first man to put goblin in her womb gets sole access to her for three days!" Kedzort declared, cackling like the horrid little beast he was.
Fawaris, exhausted and yet glowing with pleasure still, barely noticed the long, hard goblin prick that lined up with her pussy and shoved into her next. She only knew the hot pleasure of being used as a pet. She licked her lips and fangs with sultry delight, looking over her shoulder at the ugly, terrible little goblin who had claimed her.
"Yes," Fawaris purred at the lowly wretch, her eyes shining moonlight blue while the cursed tattoo flickered lusty pink. "Give me more~!"
***
Several weeks later...
"New pet!" screeched the goblins all together, whose numbers had swelled up to over a hundred since the dark night that Fawaris was captured.
The beautiful, giant, kemonomimi wolf-maid came stumbling down the stairs, her battle dress ripped from her body, left with nothing but her leather high-heeled boots that reached up to her thighs and a leashed steel collar engraved with arcane sigils identical to those of the Cursed Circle of Carnal Submission. Despite the terrifying casualties she inflicted on their pack with her great hammer, literally smashing entire pews to splinters along with several goblins in one swing, it only took a few sneaking up on her from behind to leap onto her back and latch this dark magic artifact around her neck. The moment she set foot in the priory's entrance searching for her friend, it was already too late. The chain length of her leash was now held firmly by several goblins, who dragged her into the undercroft after her strength finally dwindled to nothing.
This ravishing, fertile, moonlit beauty was not only several heads taller than Fawaris, but her body was extremely well-built and fit, the beautiful feminine curves of her gigantically stacked tits, wide, gifted hips, and her thick, sexy soft ass and thighs contrasting with her healthy, vigorous waist that rippled with solid, toned abdominal muscle. Her long, snow-white hair was tied back in a beautiful ponytail, and soft blue eyes stared into the dim light of the basement with tired, defeated compliance. Disarmed and stripped as she was, this beautiful lady warrior knew it was impossible to resist any longer, and she was resigned to her fate.
Beorthilde sighed weakly as she followed the yanks of the little green thugs deeper and deeper into the priory dungeons, exhausted—the cursed collar around her neck drained her strength and converted it to temptation, leaving the beautiful, white-haired maiden entirely helpless to fight back any longer. There were hot, clear juices running down her thighs already, much to her shame.
"Oh, Beorthilde~! So you've joined us!"
The newcomer perked up, staring at the shocking sight of the one who called out her name in such a sweet, melodious tone. It was Fawaris sitting in front of her, legs crossed primly. She was wearing a salacious version of a nun's habit, gorgeous layers of black and white and red cloth marked with holy symbols that clung to her beautiful arms, neck, and hips. But the lich's chest and midriff were completely uncovered and bare to the air, leaving Fawaris's massive breasts and glowing pink womb tattoo fully exposed. This slutty attire spoke volumes of the role she had taken in this convent, not just another sex slave but a priestess of breeding, icon of desire for these wretched goblins. And confirming beyond Beorthilde's most desperate hope that her friend had not been abused by these monsters, her belly was swollen with an unborn child, round and full.
"Fawaris! Are you... alright?" Beorthilde asked, crestfallen and dismayed to see the librarian whose bookshelves she dusted every day so changed, so warped by her captivity to the nasty little creatures.
Fawaris smirked, a fang peeking between her lips as she shot the voluptuous, toned maid a sultry wink. "Why, I've never been happier."
"But... but you are a great scholar! And heroic knight!" Beorthilde protested meekly, horrified and saddened. "You are not supposed to be anyone's pet..."
Fawaris's gorgeous opal eyes shifted to a strange emotion for a moment, as if her true self was clawing at the walls of the curse's influence, trying to break free at the reminder. But then she blinked, and it was gone, replaced by the smug, satisfied smile of one who had no greater ambition than to serve her new masters.
"You'll understand soon enough," Fawaris said ominously, picking up a teacup and sipping at the hot tea within. When she set the empty cup back onto the saucer, one of the captive women, dressed in the same lewd nun outfit as Fawaris, bowed and poured more into her cup from the warm kettle carried in her hand. "Still, I am glad you are here, Beorthilde. No one brews tea quite as excellently as you do."
"As if I would brew anything for these... monsters!" Beorthilde snapped angrily, though she was not the type of woman to have a knack for insults. Her pure and gentle heart ached, not just at what had become of Fawaris and all these poor nuns, but also at the realization that the same ignoble fate awaited her. "I tried to find you, to rescue you. I'm sorry, Fawaris. I failed."
"Don't apologize," Fawaris smiled, as all the goblins surrounding them giggled and laughed sadistically. "Now we can relish the bottomless lusts of our masters together~!"
Kedzort appeared from within the throngs of horny goblins, raising his skull-capped staff high, while his other staff throbbed and drooled precome all over the stone flooring. It was his dark intellect that had allowed the creation of the cursed leash, and Fawaris had volunteered to test it to ensure it would be powerful enough. After many long nights spent under her master's thin, warty body, glued together in carnal union, she approved of the device's power, confident that even the strongest-willed heroines of the Knights of Barghest would not be able to resist it if they came searching for their lost librarian.
As the ultimate proof that the collar worked, Beorthilde was visibly aroused, her face flushed red as she looked at Fawaris, trying to maintain her dignity as a maid and warrior to little avail.
"Come, Beorthilde. Do you not feel lonely? Come and serve me~, and our masters will bring you joy through service," Fawaris smiled. She tugged the fabric skirt concealing her soft pussy aside, revealing her pregnant belly and lush thighs completely.
Beorthilde panted hotly, staring at the librarian with intense eyes. Goblins groped her massive bottom greedily, and she squirmed at their slimy fingers kneading her soft cheeks so lewdly. With a strange smile spreading across her lips, the naked maid slowly descended to her knees before Fawaris, a needy expression on her face, eyes glowing with twisted desire.
Satisfied by the expression of submission, Fawaris took her full tea cup up, winked at the lustful wolf-woman, and tipped it over, the hot liquid pouring all over her immense fair breasts, down the valley of her cleavage, down her rounded belly, gathering at her thighs in streams that tickled down her bare white slit.
"Oh no, Mistress, what a mess~!" Beorthilde giggled, panting, her rationality leaving her. As it fled, her vows as a maid and the dark lust pulsing through her fertile body took hold of her senses, a potent mix indeed. "Let your diligent maid clean that up!"
Fawaris saw Beorthilde's tongue slip out from her thick, full, beautiful lips, and she opened her legs wider, beckoning for the service. The wolf-maid leaned in, closer and closer, her big, full rump shifting up into the air like a dog beckoning for a mate, until she ran her long pink tongue up along a rivulet of tea on Fawaris's inner thigh. Fawaris giggled at the lewd sensation, petting the maid on her head, scratching her sensitive wolf ears affectionately. This goaded the maid to press her mouth against Fawaris's vulva, lips to lips, kissing her deeply and sucking up the tea as well as the dragon-lich's glistening arousal.
"Mmm! Mmph, mm~, slrp, mmm!" Beorthilde moaned as she licked and lapped at Fawaris's hot flower. Her womanhood, sensitive as ever, twitched at every slight caress of her hot pink muscle, long and lewd, tasting Fawaris between the legs with a maidenly blush on her beautiful face. As the maiden slowly pressed her tongue past the outer lips and into the librarian's warm, wet interior folds, Fawaris leaned back in her seat and sighed pleasantly, basking in the pleasure of such diligent service.
And while she was distracted, Kedzort pounced on her big, full rump, pulling her long white wolf tail out of the way and slamming his massive goblin shaft right into Beorthilde's tight, powerful wet pussy. She squealed, eyes going wide, but her voice was muffled in Fawaris's hot slit, and soon she threw herself back into serving the pregnant knightess with even louder, sloppier licks and kisses.
"Keeehehehee!" the shaman bellowed fiendishly, bursting into a feverish hump of Beorthilde's beautiful, full, sexy ass. She was a giant compared to him, her hips so wide that they were nearly double the width of his thin waist, her ass so huge that every thrust was like sinking his body into the softest, warmest clouds. Kedzort was delighted beyond words by the obvious fertility of this new pet, as she was not a troublesome lich that required special measures to impregnate.
Beorthilde moaned lustfully, eating Fawaris out voraciously. There was no tea left anywhere near her honeypot at this point, but that did not cause the maid to slow down. Instead she drank deeply of the dragon-lich's sweet nectar, while Fawaris continued to pet the gorgeous maid approvingly.
"Such a good girl~," Fawaris purred, a horny smile crossing her beautiful lips. "I always admired that amazing body of yours~! At last, I get to enjoy you, as well as all these cocks!"
Beorthilde's pretty blue eyes gleamed with delight as she lewdly suckled on Fawaris's tender slit, feeling the goblin cock plunging deeper and deeper into her vice-like love tunnel, which gripped strongly around his every last inch. Her mighty abs tightened as if to crush the manhood violating her, but in truth all it did was massage him in rhythmic, loving waves. Her big, puffy, pretty vulva visibly clenched around his hilt every time he slid in to the absolute limit, his heavy green gonads slapping into her skin.
"I think she wants your seed, my darling~!" Fawaris exclaimed to Kedzort, looking over the maid's strong, sweaty back to lock eyes with the evil shaman. Kedzort was tugging on his new pet's chain now, yanking her head back and forcing her to cry out in pleasure as he reamed her silly and the collar continually doubled the pleasure she was suffering. He, too, was coming to grips with the fact that Beorthilde was practically milking his balls out with her quim, quite unexpectedly from such a pure maid.
Despite his best efforts to slow down and reduce the stimulation, Beorthilde, panting hotly, shook her ass against him. The more he pulled on her leash, the more she beckoned him and welcomed his savage, crude rutting, her beautiful tail lifting for him, literally begging to be seeded. He dragged his bumpy, warty, disgusting cock in and out of her slower and slower, desperately holding onto his sense of control, yanking on her chain with one hand and grabbing onto her wide hips with the other. And with one final, growling impact of his wiry, greasy body clapping into hers—
Splursh. Glurp. Slop.
His semen exploded into her, stinky and thick, flowing into her swallowing pink passage like the river had no end. Before Beorthilde could let out her true feelings in a delirious moan, Fawaris grabbed her by the ponytail and forced her back down to finish her off, too, and the humming, whipping tongue of the ecstatic maiden pushed Fawaris right over the edge.
"Aaahhhn~!" Fawaris moaned sweetly, her huge breasts bouncing heavily, her pussy gushing, thighs twitching, wrapping around the sexy maid's head in a leglock that Beorthilde welcomed proudly. Sparing no effort, Beorthilde drank up her mistress's hot nectar and her new master's gushing spunk at the same time, from both ends, her own gasps and moans of pleasure completely stifled in the librarian's hot, winking lips.
Before either side released her, Beorthilde collapsed, the pleasure mounting too high even for her to withstand. Twitching on the floor, her enormous, heaving tits smushed into the rug at Fawaris's feet like a loyal hound napping by its master's side, Fawaris gingerly dragged a long blue fingernail up along the wet mess made of her thighs, inspecting the long, sticky strands of her own arousal dripping from her fingertip.
"Good girl~," Fawaris purred, grinning darkly, already imagining what Beorthilde would look like with her belly swollen by Kedzort's spawn...