Sven and his harem of naughty women inspect the aftermath of their fight with the fairy duke! Meanwhile, Princess Ava cannot control her desires for her father!
The Rogue's Harem
Book Two: Rogue's Wicked Harem
Part One: The Princess's Desires
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2018
Note: Thanks to B0b and WRC 264 for beta reading this.
Chapter One: The Goddess's Daughter
Zizthithana – Kozzithni, the Shahdom of Shizhuth
The rasp of my scales made a sibilant hiss through my throne room as I tribbed my sex slave. Shilia, my lamia, whimpered and moaned, her big breasts rubbing against the serpentine coil of my lower body. Her nipples were two points of hardness on my flesh, her tits so soft. And her pussy... Her pussy was so wet.
I savored the feel of her pussy on mine. I rubbed our cunts together, my clit nudging hers. She gasped and whimpered, her purrs mixing with the rasp of my scales. Her triangular, cat-like ears twitched and her cat-like tail swished. Her mane of black hair fell down her back as her youthful face twisted with pleasure. The feel of her sent such pleasure through my naga body. My hands rubbed from the transition of my scales to the human-like skin of my belly. I drew my hands up my dusky flesh to my heaving breasts. They were large and pillowy, the nipples pierced by gold rings.
I pulled on them.
My serpentine lower half tightened about Shilia's torso. She yowled as I felt how fragile she was. I could crush her body. I undulated faster, harder. Such delight surged through my pussy as our flesh caressed each other. I seized my nipples rings, tugging hard.
“Gods, yes,” I moaned in delight. “Las's thick cum!” I moaned, crying out to the God of Lust, the progenitor of both our races. Nagas and lamia were birthed from his indiscriminate masturbation, his cum sprayed across the world.
But where lamia came out weak and fragile, with almost no wills and easily dominated, nagas were birthed strong. We conquered. We seized power. And I wanted more. I wasn't content to be an istandar, an equivalent rank to a human duke, of a single province. I wanted to rule the entire shahdom, to be what humans to the west called a queen. I would rule all of Shizhuth and then conquer the naga countries to the east. And flood across the Despeir mountains to the west and conquer the human nations.
“Mistress!” whimpered my slave, her limbs wrapped about my body. Her tongue licked at my scales between her whimpers, rough and hot. She twitched and groaned, smearing that hot cunt against mine.
Our clits kissed. Sparks of rapture shot through my body.
“Mistress!” yowled Shilia again. Yes, yes, yes,” I groaned, smearing our cunts so hard together. The pleasure built in me. I pulled on my nipple rings. “Let me feel that little cunt cumming on my snatch. Bathe my pussy in your juices, slave.”
“Yes, Mistress!” she moaned, squirming.
I tightened my coils again. Her body spasmed. She yowled, her voice thick in pleasure and pain. I felt her ribs on the verge of cracking. Hot cream flooded out of her cunt and spilled over my pussy lips. Her ecstasy and agony echoed through the room.
I felt her heart flutter beneath those big breasts.
I held her life in my coiled embrace. I twisted my nipples piercings. Pain and pleasure shot through from my fat nubs down to my pussy. I smeared my cunt against her cumming flesh. My clit dragged through her hot twat and nudged her hard clit.
Sparks exploded.
My pussy convulsed.
My head threw back, my bright-violet hair swept about my shoulders as I moaned out in rapture. Wave after wave of delight washed out of my cunt. I squirmed on my throne, holding my slave so tight in my embrace, drinking in the rapture.
“Las's delicious cum!” I hissed, stars dancing before my eyes.
For one moment, all my worries, all my problems, vanished. The Paragon, the missing artifact, the death of two of my prized servants, and my alliance with Prince Meinard did not weigh on me. Only the bliss of my orgasm. That wonderful heights of rapture.
And then my euphoria died.
My orgasm ended.
Pleasure withdrew from me while Shilia kept yowling and squirming. She rubbed those soft tits on my scaly lower half. She licked my bronze belly scales, her hands rubbing on the smaller scales of the back of my tail, touching the vibrant purple mixed with chevrons of bronze. I sucked in breaths, listening to the joy of her orgasm.
And contemplated crushing her. Killing her. I had other lamia. I could buy more from the breeders. It would feel so good to squeeze harder, to feel her body pop and creak and—
The shadows swirled in the center of my throne room. I froze, releasing my nipple piercings and watching the shape emerge. Through the art of shadowmancing, my race had learned how to manipulate the substance created in the absence of light, to seize that ephemeral aether and manipulate it. We'd taught it to our most loyal servants, the human males who carried out our will and fertilized our eggs.
Like all races born of Las, mine was a single gender: all female. We needed human males to reproduce, just like the weak, purring creature in the embrace of my scales.
The shape of Keythivak rose out of the gathering shadows, a whip-thin man. I could recognize that silhouette anywhere. He stood with the languorous grace of a deadly fighter, ready to spring in any direction and deliver death.
My assassin.
I dispatched him after those humans who dared attack my servants. They cost me men, slaves, the death of my warlord, and the loss of an artifact I made promises to deliver. Promises that would give me the power to seize the shahdom.
“Dread Istandar,” Keythivak said as he knelt before me.
My serpentine body uncoiled. Shilia slipped to the floor, purring in delight as she curled up at the foot of my throne. I ignored her, the last of the bliss fading from my body as I focused my full attention on my assassin.
“You have it?” I demanded. I needed it. The Paragon was growing...impatient.
“I found the trail,” Keythivak answered, “from where Gorth'in was killed.”
I hissed a that. Warleader Gorth'in was one of my best. He had found the thief's trail early on, following it only to die. Killed by these humans who had what I needed. It troubled me that they possessed power that could defeat a shadowmancer. “And?”
“Their trail lead to a faerie ring,” Keythivak replied. “I could follow no farther.”
My scales rasped together as I absorbed this information. The thieves had fled to Faerie? Why? Did this have anything to do with my agreement with Prince Meinard? This all started when the thieves raided a slaving party I sent into the Princedoms as cover for their true mission: finding the artifact. Normally, I sent half the slaves I took from Prince Meinard's lands back to him via Faerie, handing them over to the prince's ally, Duke Gallchobhar.
“They will have to emerge again,” I hissed. “Watch the ring! Kill them! I want all their heads and what they stole!”
I would have my empire!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sven Falk – Faerie
“Rithi, bless my natural paints with your divine love,” my sister, Kora, chanted, her blonde hair, gathered in twin braids, swayed behind her shoulders. Her hands slid down her lush body covered in tattoos flowering vines adorned with pink petals. She shoved her hands down past her shaved pudenda, brushing the lips of her pussy. Through the pain, I couldn't help but admire her beauty, the art of her Goddess, Rithi, formed into the shape a human. “Let your vision flow through me and restore the art ruined by the cruel acts of the world.”
She shoved her fingers into her pussy. Her back arched, her round breasts jiggling before her, the left encircled by her flowering vine. Between her tits swayed the bright ruby on a necklace, the gift I gave her not knowing the danger it held. She let out an orgasmic moan as her prayer was answered by her Goddess.
She fell to her knees beside me, ripping out her fingers from her pussy. I groaned as she smeared her juices on my flesh. The soothing energy rippled through my body, banishing the pain. My wounds sustained fighting first the treeman and then Duke Gallchobhar healed, Rithi restoring my flesh. I smiled at my sister, victory surging through me.
She smiled back as she caressed my body, smearing her incestuous fluids on me. Though our relationship was forbidden, I loved her greatly. And she loved me. I had known her body so many times since this chaos started when we raided those Shizhuthian slavers and found the amulet.
“Try not to hurt yourself so badly, brother mine,” she said, a smile playing on her lips. “Especially the way you boast about your...prowess.”
I caught her hand, holding it in my tight grip. “I think you know all about my prowess, sister dear.”
A smile crossed her fair face. Her blue eyes twinkled. Then she glanced at the smoldering ruins of the Lodestone, one of her twin braids of blonde hair spilling over her right shoulder. The rubble once provided the focus for the spell which enslaved all the humans around us in the stocks, using their souls to power an army of stone soldiers. “Well, you did demonstrate it here.”
Before I could answer my sister, a whimper of pain came from Aingeal, my faerie-wife. She lay nearby, her back badly burned, her butterfly wings... Las's putrid cum, but her butterfly wings were gone, destroyed by Duke Gallchobhar's magic when they dueled in the air.
Kora gasped, here eyes widening in shock. We both forgot about the faerie as we flirted. My sister darted to Aingeal to heal her, Kora's fingers already plunging into her pussy. I groaned as my two sex slaves fell on their knees beside me, hugging me hard.
“Master!” they both gasped together, their hot lips kissing my cheeks.
I shuddered in delight, holding them both. They were naked, which was normal for Zanyia, a lamia slave I liberated in the same raid where I found that cursed amulet about my sister's neck. The other was Nathalie, a blonde, human girl of eighteen who found rapture as my submissive lover.
Zanyia's doing. The tawny-haired and petite lamia wanted to see my lusts were met, gratitude for killing her abusive master and “liberating” her. I didn't claim her as a sex slave; she insisted on being mine, giving me no choice in the matter. Then she recruited Nathalie.
She purred as she licked my cheek with her rough tongue, her triangular, cat-like ears twitching as they thrust out of her bushy hair. Her tail swished behind her. Nathalie trembled, her body also petite and girlish. The blonde, braided pigtails swaying about her shoulders added to her cuteness.
Aingeal let out a soft whimper, drawing my attention.
“You can heal her, right?” I asked my sister, my stomach tensing.
“I don't know,” Kora answered. “I've never healed such grievous wounds.” She smeared her pussy juices on Aingeal's body.
The busty faerie whimpered. Her pink hair curtained her face, hiding her lush features. Her large breasts pillowed beneath her. She groaned as the flesh on her back knitted up, the burns fading until she had smooth, pale skin.
But no wings. They didn't regrow.
Kora's face grew grave. Her blue eyes trembled. “I'm sorry.”
Aingeal sat up, her large breasts swaying, pink hair tumbling about her normally playful face. Like Zanyia, she didn't wear clothing. Gold rings pierced her nipples, reflecting the strange moonlight of the perpetual night of Faerie. She sat beside Kora, her hands feeling her back, her face falling.
“I... I see...” Aingeal said. Then she looked to the smoldering corpse of the duke. My throwing knife had taken him in the throat. Iron was poison to faerie. His blood smoked and smoldered on contact with my weapon. “You killed him, my husband.”
“I killed him.”
Aingeal took a deep breath, pain crossing her face. “Good.”
I understood that pain. I felt it myself every day, the hole the fire left in my life. And in the life of my sister. Our parents and our younger sister both perished in those flames, killed by Prince Meinard because his daughter loved me. Kora and I were meant to die with them.
We didn't.
We were fugitives now, plotting to destroy him. And we struck a mighty blow. We destroyed his Lodestone. Around us, the humans he'd enslaved and brought to Faerie were awake, no longer chained to his army of stone statues. They called out to us, trapped in stocks in the field around the smoldering remains of the Lodestone.
“Come on,” I groaned, standing up from the embrace of my sex slaves. “Let's start freeing them.”
“Yes, Master,” they both said with the same submissive tone as they looked up at me.
I glanced at the newcomer, dressed all in silvery armor. She had slung her ax and warhammer in loops on the wide, leather belt she wore about her waist. She wasn't human. Not with those bright, yellow eyes, like a pair of helidors, staring at me. She had an exotic cast to her face, the lines just different enough to be alien to any human features, delicate yet strong. She had a curvy body, her armor fitted to her bountiful flesh. Pure-white hair, not faded by age, framed her youthful face, cut short to sweep about her pauldrons covering her shoulders. The snowy locks contrasted with the midnight-black of her skin, such a deep, dark color that only made her eyes shine like twin suns, her hair to glow.
“Will you help... Eh...?”
“Ealaín,” she answered. “And, of course, I shall help free these poor souls trapped in these horrid contraptions.
“Good,” I nodded, frowning. She had accompanied my sister and Nathalie when they returned from the distraction. Where had this warrior come from? How did she know so much about the amulet about my sister's neck? “Me and you'll head this way. Zanyia, take Nathalie and head the other way. Kora...”
My sister caught my eyes, giving me a sad smile as she hugged Aingeal. The faerie's purple eyes brimmed with tears. She looked so...normal now without her wings. Those graceful, sweeping butterfly wings that thrust from her back.
I wanted to kill Duke Gallchobhar all over again.
Gripping my fists, I marched past the smoldering remains of the treeman, a hulking giant that looked like a walking oak tree, I'd tricked into punching the Lodestone and destroying the magical artifact. Ealaín fell in at my side, her armor clinking.
“You are concerned about your sister's safety,” Ealaín said, her voice melodious and concise at the same time.
“You're a direct one,” I said, flashing her a smile. I couldn't help grinning at a beautiful woman no matter her species. I reached the first stock, pulling the bronze pin that held the top of the restraining device to the bottom.
“Praise the Gods,” a sobbing, naked Zeutchian woman gasped. Like me, she had fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes that characterized our race of humans. She sprang at me, throwing her arms around my neck and smothering me in kisses.
She felt nice in my arms. Youthful. In another time, I would have kissed her back. Seen how far her friendly thankfulness would get me. But now wasn't that time. There were thousands of humans imprisoned here. An entire army enslaved by that bastard Prince Meinard.
“You are welcome, goodwoman,” I said, pushing her back, her round breasts jiggling, her nipples fat, pink, and begging to be played with. “But there are so many others in need. You have to help us.”
“Of course,” she said, her head snapping around. She spotted someone and shouted. “Karl!”
She sprang to a man in the next stock, prying at the bronze pin. He had the look of her husband, his hair a sandier blonde, his body ropy with muscles from working the fields. What a shame. To enjoy her thankfulness while her husband watched would have been exquisite.
“You are staring at her like a dog at a bone,” Ealaín said. “You hunger for her that much?”
“I do,” I said, moving onto the next stock, this one holding a young girl budding on the verge of womanhood. “And, yes, I am concerned about my sister. You just... appear, claiming that the amulet about her neck is the phylactery”—that was a word I'd never heard of—“holding the soul of the Biomancer Vebrin. The Vebrin?”
“I fear so. My mother felt the turbulence of its passage around the brightness of Radiant Kora.”
I blinked at that. Well, not at my sister being called radiant. That was her title in the priesthood of Rithi, Goddess of Art. Radiant just meant she had finished her novitiate and was a full member of the clergy, mastering three of the art forms. The tattoos on my sisters body identified the three. Not the design, but the placement on her flesh. No, what shocked me was who Ealaín's mother was.
“You're the daughter of the Goddess of Art?”
“One of them,” she answered. “I am aoi si, birthed by my mother's congress with the Goddess Henta.”
“The hermaphroditic Goddess of the Hunt?” I asked, making sure I remembered that correctly. “I didn't know Rithi was her lover.”
“Rithi has enjoyed many lovers and created many wondrous children,” the Aoi Si answered. “My divine race being but one of them. Motherhood is an art form my Goddess has not neglected. All forms of creation enrich the world with beauty. Even your birth, Sven.”
I gave her a cocky grin. “I know. Masculine perfection distilled into my perfect chin and rugged looks.”
Ealaín arched an eyebrow. “Arrogance... Does that get you into women's pussies?”
“Often. Women enjoy bold men who seize what they want and can boast of great exploits.” I pulled at another bronze pin, working as we talked. “I get to add dueling a treeman and a faerie lord. Unlike other men, my exploits aren't false lies.
“I've done them.”
“Yes, you have. I saw the remains of your fight with the warleader.”
“Which one?” I asked. I'd fought two. One when I freed Zanyia and other slaves, and found that amulet. The second ambushed us the night before we entered Faerie. He controlled shadows and almost made me kill my sister with his trickery.
“Both,” she answered, freeing an older man.
“Thank you,” the man wheezed to her. “Thank you so much, blessed angel.”
The aoi si nodded to him and moved on with me. We left a wake of freed men and women, old and young. They spread out, freeing more and more of their captured kin and family. Entire villages appeared to be here, vanishing from the shadows of the Despeir Mountains. These were Prince Meinard's own people. He should protect them.
Instead he brutalized them.
“You have passion,” the aoi si said. “It burns in you behind that playful and roguish exterior you like to project.”
“Of course I have passion.” I threw my arms out, anger swelling in me. “Look around at this monstrosity. I despise the man responsible. I'm going to kill him.”
“A worthy goal,” Ealaín agreed.
“And now complicated. This amulet is why that shadowmancer attacked us yesterday?”
Ealaín nodded. “It appears a naga has made a deal with the Paragon to find the phylactery. It has been lost for centuries. The world all hoped it would never resurface. With it, the Paragon can restore the vile mage to life.”
My skin crawled. “And what is this... Paragon?” I knew that word from my studies at the University of Az back in another life when I truly was a carefree carouse and roguish seducer of women. “What is he the epitome of?”
“She is Biomancer's ultimate creation,” Ealaín said. “She possess all the things the warlock prized: strength, speed, intelligence, abilities. He created her right before his death. By the time she reached maturity, he was slain and his phylactery was long stolen. She's searched for it for centuries and, thanks to her deal with the naga, it was uncovered.
“The Biomancer makes a mockery of art. He takes something already beautiful and ruins it in his mad plan of perfection. It is like he found a master painting, one of Goth's or Kessavarie's works, and in his arrogance thought he could improve it. He would take it with something else, perhaps a statue carved by Istalia, and try to merge them. In his effort to stamp his own uniqueness upon them, he would ruin two already perfect works and produce something less, something that was missing that vital spark of natural inspiration.”
I shuddered. “You're talking about the monsters he made.”
Many of them plagued the world, strange abominations that were fusions of different creatures. Panthopuses roamed the woods and chimeras haunted the mountains. Things that didn't even have names, foul merging of animals and plants, living and nonliving. With his magic, he twisted and perverted.
“And the amulet around my sister's neck contains his soul?”
Ealaín nodded.
“Okay, what do we do with it? Destroy it, right?” I shivered. Another task we'd have to complete. And one at odds with vengeance.
“How?” asked Ealaín. “It is a powerful object. My mother knows not. It is a powerful artifact. The elf who slew him had tried many ways before she vanished. Nothing worked. For now, it must be denied to the Paragon.”
“Then let's drop it into the sea and...” My words trailed off. “She can swim, right.”
“And fly, survive extremes of temperature, toxic gases. The Paragon can thrive in any environment from brackish swamps to arid desert. She could dive to the deepest reach of the ocean and soar to the extent of the firmament above.”
“Las's putrid cum,” I growled. “Can she die?”
“All things can die.”
“That's something.” I yanked another bronze pin, freeing another person. I ignored their thanks, continuing on as I mulled this over. “That's why you're here?”
“Though Radiant Kora is beloved by my mother, She would not interfere in mortal affairs. But now things have changed. The phylactery is a threat beyond the scope of your petty feud with Prince—”
“Petty!” The word exploded from my mouth. “He burned our parents, our sister, alive!” Katriana's innocent face, a younger version of Kora's sensual features, blazed in my mind. Katriana laughing, smiling, her blonde hair flying behind her as she ran through the halls of our home, her skirts flaring about her coltish legs as she leaped from the tree in our garden and land on the soft loam.
All that joy extinguished in those flames. Reduced to ash and blown away.
Ealaín cocked her head. “I apologize. It was an ill-chosen word. I only meant in the grander purpose of the world, the dispute between a pair of humans matters little when compared to the rebirth of a monster who plagued our world for centuries and unleashed his mad monstrosities from Castle Drakin.”
“Petty,” I muttered and ripped out a bronze pin, freeing a grandmotherly woman.
“Thank you!” she sobbed.
I nodded, brushing past her. “Stopping Prince Meinard sounds more important to me than Vebrin returning to life.”
“Perspective is a unique thing, is it not?” she said. “From where I stand Prince Meinard seems of little consequence. But not to you. His shadow casts far across the world you see, swallowing it.”
I shrugged. “You're a weird one, Ealaín.”
She blinked her owlish eyes. “Am I?”
“Yeah.
“So,” I said, something tickling my head, “you said an elf killed Vebrin and was looking—”
“Master!” screeched. Zanyia.
Bounding across the stocks we opened, leaping over the freed men and women moving to help others, came my naked lamia. She moved like a cat, her pale skin almost glowing in the multi-hued moonlight. Her small breasts jiggled while her tail twitched back and forth, almost steering for her as she leaped.
“Master! Look up!”
I did, staring up at the brilliant stars shining down on us. Three moons hung in the sky, each a different hue. Though it was night, I could see like it was day and... I spotted them. Figures flying fast towards us. A hundred or more.
Faeries.
“Las's putrid cum!” I snarled.
Chapter Two: The Princess's Desires
Princess Ava – Echur, the Princedom of Kivoneth, the Strifelands of Zeutch
“What do you mean?” demanded my father, bursting out of his bed naked and flinging himself at Master Mage Shevoin. “Destroyed?”
“Yes, your Highness,” cowered Shevoin. An older man, his skin almost as pale as a Zeutchian, his hair graying. He came from the Collegiate Tower of Esh-Esh, skilled in magic, my father's closest adviser.
As my father stood trembling in rage, joy surged through me. I rubbed my naked thighs together beneath our mused blankets, feeling his incestuous cum leaking out of my pussy. I hated my father. He'd turned cold after Mother's death, withdrawing in on himself and embarking on his mad plan to restore the High King Peter's empire. None had succeed in the two hundred years since Peter's death. Only chaos rained. Zeutch had been wracked by wars, the princes rising and falling to try and take control of the large nation while holding desperately onto their own pieces of it.
And then my father had found a way to imbue an entire army of statues. Nonliving soldiers made of hard stone destroyed his rivals. He'd conquered a dozen smaller princedoms in the last two years, swallowing half of Zeutch in the process. The Lodestone let him do it. Somehow, it gave the rare ability of imbuing to thousands of people while simultaneously robbing them of their will, making them slaves utterly to my father.
“How fast can you find another Lodestone to enchant?” my father said, his rage already cooling. His passions never lasted long, whether anger or lust. He looked like pale marble in the silvery moonlight streaming through his bedroom window, his hair a pale blond.
“The mine has never found another piece big enough,” the mage answered. “I do not know if we ever will. The Lodestone was unique. That much magnetic iron found in a single rock...”
“Gods damn it,” Father said, his voice cold. “And what does that mean for my army. They were attacking Anaopeth.”
“They will be deactivated, of course,” Shevoin said. “Just like when you withdraw your will from your proxy and it goes still.”
Like me, my father was an imbuer, able to take control of inanimate objects with his soul. But only one at a time. It had perplexed me when Father found a way to control an entire army then horrified me to learn how he did it.
But Sven had done it. My fiance, the man I truly loved, had stopped my father's foul machination.
I couldn't help but gloat right now even as I flew to my father, bounding naked from the bed and hugging him from behind. I pressed my small breasts into his back, hugging him, my face rubbing between his shoulder blades.
“You shall find a way to prevail, Father,” I said. “Your standing army is powerful. You have half of Zeutch under your control. You don't need those statues.”
“Of course I do,” he growled. “I need my army to keep all the nobles in line while we expand. Without strong boots on their necks, sedition will whisper through my princedom.”
“It doesn't matter,” I said. “You must send reinforcements to the front as soon as possible. The army at the capital is closest.”
Then Sven will have nothing between him and sneaking into the castle to slay my father.
“It won't work,” growled my father.
“But it must,” I protested. “It's the—”
The anger burst out of him again. He twisted his body and struck me with his arm as he turned. Pain flared in my side as I stumbled back. I crashed into his chest of drawers. The wooden furniture creaked and rocked. I bounced off and fell onto my hands and knees. Tears sprang to my cheek.
The anger melted from his face. “Pater's cock,” he groaned, rushing to me. “My sweetling. I didn't mean to hit you.”
“I'm fine, Father,” I lied, such anger surging through me even as I stared at his cock swaying before me. It bobbed before my lips as he stood over me.
Lusts swelled through me. That spell he'd enchanted me with drove me wild. It made me want to pleasure him. He didn't know I'd learned the truth, and I couldn't let him think I was anything but a loving daughter.
“It was my fault for interfering,” I told him, grabbing his cock. The more I hated him, the more my body felt driven to pleasure him. It was so maddening. “Let me... soothe you. Relax you, so you can think.”
I sucked on the tip of his cock unable to stop myself. Beyond the fact it was incest—he was my father!—it felt so wrong to cheat on my true love. I would marry Sven, but I couldn't stop my lusts. That damned enchantment upon me had me aching for my father's embrace.
His dick twitched and throbbed hard in my mouth. He groaned, his hands sliding through my hair, caressing my blonde locks. He sucked in such deep breaths, the pleasure spilling across his face. He licked his lips, his fists clenching and relaxing as I pleasured him.
I moaned about his cock I bobbed my lips. He was fully erect now. I didn't care that Shevoin saw my depraved lusts for my father's cock. The man knew about the spell, had recommended it to my father. And knowing he watched my shameful behavior only made my pussy wetter.
I shoved my right hand between my thighs. I stroked my dripping flesh. I felt my father's cum leaking out of my snatch. I groaned, smearing the incestuous seed into my pussy lips and silky bush. I shuddered, my blonde hair swaying about my shoulders, my small breasts jiggling.
“My sweetling,” Father groaned, his hand running through my silken curls. “Oh, yes, I need this so much. I need to think. You love me so much.”
I hated him so much.
I sucked even harder. My cheeks hollowed. Humiliation burned through me, propelling my mouth to bob faster and faster, to revel in my degradation. I plunged two fingers into my cum-filled pussy. My snatch clenched down on them. My fingers made such an obscene sound as they plundered my sloppy depths.
“Yes,” Father panted. “My sweetling, I am so sorry. I'll never hurt you again. Not so long as you love me. Not so long as you'll be my queen.”
“Your Highness, should I withdraw?” the mage asked, his voice tight. But I could see his hand fondling his black robe, the symbol of his status as a master of magic. He squeezed his dick through it, probably thinking of my bedmaid Greta. I let him fuck her in exchange for information.
“I'll be finished soon,” Father groaned. “I can never last long in my sweetling's mouth. She sucks so good. She loves my dick.”
His words made my cheeks burn. My fingers plunged faster into my cunt. Pleasure rippled through me, fanned by the humiliation. My tongue danced about the crown of his dick as I nursed on it. I tasted his salty precum, hungry for the true delight to come.
He groaned, his chest rising and falling as I pleasured him. His narrow, hard face twisted in rapture. His hips moved, fucking his cock in and out of my mouth, using my oral cavity like a pussy. He reveled in degrading me.
“Oh, yes, my sweetling, what a hot mouth. I'm going to give you what you hunger for.”
My fingers curled in my pussy. I shuddered, moaning about his dick. Drool leaked down my chin. My fingers caressed down the walls of my snatch, searching for that wondrous spot Sven showed me. He gave me such pleasure. He always cared about me.
I found the bundle of nerves, massaging the spot in my cunt. Pleasure built in me. I sucked so hard as Father's cock plunged over and over into my mouth. He groaned, gripping my blonde hair in his iron fists.
“Take it, my sweetling!” he groaned.
His salty, incestuous cum spurted into my mouth. The thick cream splashed against the back of my throat. It spilled around my tonsils then over my tongue. I gulped it down as my fingers attacked that wonderful spot in my cunt.
I exploded.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he snarled as he pumped his spunk into my mouth, humiliating me even further.
The shame fanned my orgasm to amazing heights. My entire body trembled. I whimpered about his dick as stars exploded through my vision. I swayed, my pussy convulsing so hard on my fingers. It spasmed, trying to milk them, eager for cum to spurt into my depths.
His cum.
I wanted his cock in me so badly. My father's dick reaming my cunt, pumping me full of his cum, breeding me and—
I bucked so hard, my orgasm intensifying just thinking of my father breeding me. I wanted Sven to put a baby in me. I wanted his child, not my father. But my body yearned for that forbidden congress. To bear my father his heir like he craved.
What I had to do crystallized in my mind in that instance: I needed to flee.
I couldn't stay in the castle any longer. I couldn't spy on him for Sven. The longer I stayed here, the more the spell warped me. If I didn't I would soon be begging Shevoin to remove my contraception enchantment so I could conceive that child my father wanted.
I swallowed the last of my father's cum, my pussy still so juicy, so aching for his cum. I couldn't be his slave. I had to be free of him. I needed to be with my Sven. Not through my statue proxies, but in the flesh.
“Come, Shevoin,” Father said, pulling his cock out of my mouth, “we have plans to make. I will see you in the morning, my sweetling. Do not fear, I will find away to salvage this disaster.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moaned, sounding so wanton. I shuddered, hating myself for aching for him.
How would I escape? I needed to think, to plot. And that was hard as I kept masturbating, my body craving more pleasure. As my father left the room, I almost called to him. I fought so hard against the desire to beg him to fuck me.
To breed me.
Gods-damn that corrupted priestess of Luben for enchanting me with this spell!
Chapter Three: Fairy Surprise
Kora Falk – Faerie
Sven darted up to me, throwing knife in one hand, short sword in another. He looked dashing in his black leathers, his blond locks flowing about his handsome face. He had that perfect chin and masculine cheekbones, his blue eyes so vibrant and deep. I could get lost staring into my brother's eyes. When he stared at me, I felt like such a woman in his gaze, so desired. His smile always promised pleasure.
Pleasure he could deliver.
But now I saw concern. Not fear, but he was tense. I broke away from the crying Aingeal and stood up. What could be the problem? Zanyia and Ealaín rushed in his wake, the aoi si's hands on her weapons. But she hadn't drawn them.
“What is it, brother mine?” I asked, gaining my feet and closing my pink clerical robes about me. I knotted the belt as my heart beat faster.
“Faeries,” he growled. “A whole company of them with spears.”
“Spears?” the raw voice of Aingeal asked. Bloodshot, purple eyes stared up at my brother and me. “Are they the household guards of Duke Gallchobhar?”
“I don't know,” Sven said. “This is your lands?”
“This was my father's lands,” Aingeal said. “I was banished. I shouldn't be here. They will... turn me over. But you mustn't resist them, my husband.”
“Fuck that,” Sven snarled. “You're my wife. You think I'll sit by and let them harm you.”
A smile crossed Aingeal's lips. I was wrong to mistrust her. Well, not wrong, precisely. Faeries were birthed from the union of the God Las and the Goddess Cernere. Lust and Crime had made creatures who loved sex and trickery. But Aingeal had not betrayed us. She'd fought with us. And she loved my brother. When she promised Zanyia thrice to be Sven's woman, his wife, it had changed her in ways that didn't make sense to me, a human.
But the emotions were real.
“My illusions are all but useless on faeries,” I reminded my brother. The race breathed in illusions. The could make more convincing ones with a wave of their hand than I could channeling the power of my Goddess.
“And you do not have that many throwing knives, Master,” Zanyia said.
“The air brims with spirits,” Ealaín said. “A contest with the faeries will not last long, I fear. That number will bind us in moments.”
“I remember,” Sven growled. “But, still, I won't let them touch my wife.”
“May I suggest diplomacy.” The aoi si stared at my brother with those bright, yellow eyes. “A deal may be struck with the creatures. A way to avoid bloodshed. After all, the household guard of Duke Gallchobhar would be culpable in the monstrous act that occurred here. Unless Queen Sidhe has condoned this.”
“She wouldn't,” Aingeal said. “It is a good plan, but it won't work.”
“Why not?” my brother asked.
“Those aren't Duke Gallchobhar's household guards. See the purple-haired beauty at their lead. Notice the gold armor worn by the spearmen.” Aingeal let out a sigh. “That is Princess Siona leading her mother's own soldiers. Queen Sidhe's forces. She will never let me go. Not after what I did to her mother.”
I frowned. What had Aingeal done to Queen Sidhe?
“Great,” Sven growled.
“You mustn't fight,” Aingeal begged as the faeries descended, the soldiers all males in golden armor that fit about their delicate bodies. They all had beautiful, youthful faces, almost effeminate.
Princess Siona landed before my brother, naked and unashamed. She had lush breasts and a thick, purple bush growing between her thighs. Specks of glittering gold and silver adorned her body that shimmered in the starlight and moonlight as she moved. Her wings fluttered to a stop, revealing them to be hued with swirls of purple and black.
“Mortal,” the princess said, her tone playful. “This is such an... interesting place to find one of your kind.” Her eyes flicked around. “Many of your kind.”
“Just liberating some friends and family, Princess Siona,” my brother said.
“Yes,” I nodded. “Just a few thousand or so of close kin and fast friends who were cruelly taken from us and brought by force to Faerie. We meant no harm to your mother, the noble Queen Sidhe, by coming here.”
Princess Siona flicked her eyes around then settled on the corpse of Duke Gallchobhar. Delicate disgust wrinkled her expression. Her wings fluttered in agitation. “Yes, I am shocked by the... monstrousness of what I see here. To think a duke of my mother's court could harbor something so foul on the land he governs in her name. On behalf of my mother, I apologize to you and your own...” She arched an eyebrows in question.
“Sven Falk,” my brother said. “My sister Kora, my slave Zanyia, and an aoi si warrior who aided us is named Ealaín, your Highness.”
“And who is your last companion?” the princess asked, her eyes staring past Sven to the trembling Aingeal.
“That is Nathalie,” Sven said, holding out his hand and beckoning to the freed people watching.
The naked and lithe girl darted from them, her small breasts jiggling as she rushed to my brother, her braided pigtails flying behind her. She reached my brother, taking his hand and falling to her knees beside him.
She enjoyed being his submissive.
“Another sex slave?” asked Princess Siona? “Is your sister one, too, or merely a lover?”
My cheeks burned and shifted. “You can... tell?”
The princess gave a mischievous grin. “It is writ across your brother's face when he glances at you. That protective love he has for you, his two sex slaves, and for dear Aingeal behind there.” The princess cocked her head. “Have you found union with a mortal, traitor?”
My stomach sank.
“I have,” Aingeal said, her words surprisingly calm.
“Mother is still very wroth with you.”
Sven tightened his jaw. “Then she can be wroth with me. Aingeal is only here to help me stop this perversity happening on your mother's lands. I won't allow you to punish her for that kindness. She risked much to help us. She lost her wings battling the cruel duke who usurped her lands.”
The princess arched an eyebrow. “Yes, you are a passionate one, aren't you? So she is under your protection?”
“Indeed,” my brother growled.
And though I knew this was foolish, that we couldn't win against the faeries, I felt such love swell through me for my brother. He was standing fast for one of the women he loved. His heart so broad it could hold Ava, Aingeal, Zanyia, Nathalie, and myself in it. He had the courage to fight for us, to protect us to the very end.
I stepped up beside my brother while Zanyia crouched before us, hissing and ready to spring into action.
Purple energy surged from Princess Siona. I braced myself for the attack. It washed out of her in a ripple. I felt it tingle over me. I gasped, shocked it didn't hurt. Instead, I heard metal popping, wood groaning, people crying out in delight.
“This is a perversity that will not be tolerated,” Princess Siona said. “Your kin and friends are free. They will be cared for and escorted from the lands of Faerie.” Something shifted in her face, something... lusty. “And you, Sven, I am willing to hear your passionate arguments for why Aingeal should not be punished for violating her exile?” The princess licked her lips, her wings fluttering. “In private.”
Sven gave her a cocky grin while I rolled my eyes. “Your Highness,” Sven said, “I would be more than glad to... persuade you. Many women have sung the praises of my skilled arguments.”
“I suspect they have given the loyalty of your women,” the princess said.
Pussy juices dripped down my thighs. The tension melted out of me. “Of course you found a horny faerie princess, brother mine.”
He grinned back at me and winked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sven Falk
The pavilion grew out of grass and flowers in moments, springing out of a fountain of purple energy. The princess threw a coy look over her shoulder before she vanished inside with a shake of her fine ass. My cock throbbed hard in my trousers as I followed after her, passing through the soft curtains of fronts to find Siona lounging on a bed of flowers petals, her body shuddering.
“Now how did you convince that mischievous Aingeal to come back here?” asked Siona. “She was banished on pain of death. I never thought she would be foolish enough to return.”
“I suspect it was vengeance,” I answered, my hands going to the lacings of my leather jerkin, working on them as Princess Siona cupped her round breasts, pale fingers digging into her glittering flesh. “It didn't take much convincing at all. When she found out what we plotted, she volunteered.”
Here eyes drank me in as I peeled off the jerkin, exposing my muscular body. She licked her lips then asked, “You haven't known her long, have you?”
“I met her recently. Maybe yesterday. Time is hard to judge here.”
“And yet you're willing to risk your life for her. You could just let us take her and leave with our blessing.”
“Not an option,” I growled. “Even if she weren't my wife now. I brought her here, I wouldn't abandon her.”
“Loyal...” She pinched my nipples. “You are an interesting man. You have an aoi si with you practically dripping in her armor with lust, a lamia mewling at your feet, a faerie as your wife, a sister who worships you, and a human slave-girl willing to do anything for you.”
I frowned? Did she imply Ealaín desired me? The aoi si hadn't looked twice at me.
“I want a taste of that passion,” the princess continued. “Please me, and I will consider interceding on Aingeal's behalf with my mother.”
“And if I don't?”
“Well, you're loyal, so you'll die with your faerie-wife. Tragic, I know, but that is the fate of those who harbor traitors.” She spread her thighs, her purple bush glistening with her juices. “Now see if you can satiate me, rogue.”