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Melehan and Morvith, vile brothers of vile seed, born of the wicked sorceress queen Morgana and her consort, they are as feared as they are famed. One has the gift of murderous cunning, the other gift of being cunningly murderous. Before they were kings they were kin, sent down two separate roads by their mother, one quest for death making, the other for soul taking…
“Burn the orphanage! Now!” bellowed Melehan as a volley of fire balls fell on its straw roof. A little homeless dog barked at the blaze and turned to chew on one of his warlocks. “Get rid of the dog too!” A mystical bolt of smoking amethyst leapt from the warlock’s hand and smashed into the canine’s head. In the blink of an eye its fur caught fire before being devoured by a supernatural shadow, leaving nothing behind but its silhouette in the grass.
“My looord, here is thy village’s mayor…” rasped the warlord’s gangly, emaciated servant, Bovo. Melehan looked at his wretch of a slave with disdain and whacked him on the skull.
“Unknowing fool! It is the Queen’s village!” he turned to the mayor but looked past his rumpled and dirty form to behold his beautiful farm girl of a daughter. Rosy red cheeks and golden blonde locks cascaded down around her shoulders, and the dark conqueror felt familiar stirrings rise in his loins as his eyes were drawn into the tanned and rounded tops of her bosom, her supple flesh rising and falling with each breath.
He turned back to her father, his violet eyed steed staring the little man in the face with the kind of unrepentant malice as only a horse could muster. “Good mayor, do you know why your village has been afforded the Queen’s protection?” Screams rang out in back as the orphanage’s roof collapsed, spewing out a ball of flame.
“The Orcs my lord! They were too many!” he cried and dropped to his knees. All around the prince’s men threw the ugly green brutes onto burn piles, full of as many Orcs as they were the prince’s losses.
Melehan loosed a cruel and bitter laugh, one that made the mayor’s daughter shiver and the luscious swells of her breasts jiggle. “Oh yes, ‘the greenskins’. Pig snouted mongrels all. Didn’t we teach you mud snorting simpletons anything when we drove away the barbarians?”
“You burnt our houses down!” he said through teary eyes.
“Well come now, I couldn’t let the barbarians have us outdone, much less these Orcish upstarts. And don’t give me that petulant face.” Morvith slapped the old man with the broad side of his sword as if he were a mewling strumpet. “Your huts are shown up by termites, it was no great loss to lose them or build them again.”
“What about the children!?” he pointed to the blazing orphanage.
Melehan looked at him with an upturned nose like the aristocrat he was. “Fuck more.” The mere idea made his body pulse with forbidden power and he turned his head when he heard the mayor’s plump chested daughter loose a subtle sigh of excitement. “They were bastards anyway. Where is Arch Mistress Krela?”
As Melehan looked into the old man’s eyes he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “Captured, my lord. Not many died in the assault on the garrison, most suffered her fate.” Captured? He was intrigued. Why would those brutes spare so many?, he thought.
Alas, intrigue would have to wait. There was injustice to be dealt. With a flick of his wrist he sent the mayor’s head tumbling into the mud and laughed as he realized he didn’t even get to know his name. The daughter looked at her father’s steaming neck and wept.
“Do not cry, child. He is one of many for whom death is an improvement. With Krela’s absence however, I find my sword in need of a sheathe…” He dismounted his horse and handed his long blade to Bovo. His hands felt up her ample breasts through her low cut blouse. She whimpered and looked to the side, unwilling to face the man who had just slaughtered her father.
Melehan’s mouth watered as he groped her soft endowments and made her cleavage swell to the top of her blouse’s neckline, straining the buttons underneath. The upper halves of her plump melons were decorated with a dark and rich tan becoming of a life in the field. Below those honeyed lines his eyes drank in tantalizing glimpses of supple, milky flesh.
“Yes… yes.” he said at last, “You will do.” He flipped her over his back like a conqueror returning home while she sobbed in fear and anticipation. “You will have the privilege of what other women have stabbed each other over: a glorious stabbing by me!”
Her pussy tingled and her breasts engorged with arousal. Her body was ready for what her soul feared.
Dusk had fallen when Morvith finally came under the last church of His Holiness. Sisters Einaudi and Darrow cantered in step behind him, a cart in tow, their spectacular bodies hidden under the black of their habits.
Only the dim glow in their eyes and their improbably gorgeous faces hinted at the unnaturalness that lurked within their souls. That and the strange whispers and growls that issued forth from the boxes towed behind them. Morvith waved his hand at the woman who waited for the trio at the steps of the church.
Her features were stern and her eyes bright. Morvith noted with disappointment the size of her breasts, non-existent in size and needlessly held back by a weathered bodice, overlaid with numerous layers of silvery silk. He would change that, very soon.
“You there! Stop in the name of His Holiness!” she shouted, her voice acidic and unpleasant. Morvith and the Sisters continued on. “Stop!” she screamed and the ground in front of Morvith exploded in a blast of light and dust, the woman’s hand smoking and her eyes glowing with ominous power.
Morvith stopped and laughed. “My my what’s all the fuss about? Are not all welcome into His righteous bosom in times of darkness?” His nuns smiled at his words, pulling their crosses from the smothering creamy swells of their deep and bulging cleavage.
The woman stomped down the steps and the dark prince imagined how her chest would bounce when he was done with her. “No! We don’t take strangers, we don’t even know if you’re agents of the Queen-”
Melehan waved his hand in dismissal. “Sister please, we are missionaries. I am a Paladin and these… are Sisters Einaudi and Darrow.” The two nuns regarded the woman warmly and gently sighed as they did so.
“You will call me Mother Vera! And none of you look like servants of His Holiness!” Vera beheld the nuns with a cold stare. She didn’t like how far their chests jutted out, how their sleek, creamy thighs splayed out from the sides of their habits, nor was she fond of the lust boiling behind their eyes. A lust for righteousness as far as she knew but even so, she was aware of how some could take their belief too far and dive into reckless sin.
Morvith leaned forward, flashing an amicable smile. “And what would a servant of His Holiness look like?”
Mother Vera pointed a wrinkled finger at the prince’s face, her mouth in a scowl. “Not like you! Those two look like they’ve been touched by the Queen herself and you young man look more fit to burn a village than save it!”
Morvith shrugged. “Sometimes we do one to do the other. At any rate, if we were evil, I suspect you’d be dead right now.”
Vera’s eyes flared gold with holy wrath. She walked over to the smug man and looked him in the eye. “If you were evil, you’d be dead right now. You’re standing over holy ground!”
Morvith’s smile widened. “Well that settles it then. Obviously we’re good people otherwise we’d be burnt to a crisp. We need only stay for the night and then we’ll be on our way.”
Vera considered him and decided he made too much sense to be evil, having seen the vile queen’s gibbering maniacs up close before, but still didn’t like him. Or the shaking boxes behind his salacious nuns. Her eyes tricked her for a moment when she thought she saw a shadow dart out under their coverings but chalked it off to a stray animal. “Hmm… very well. But only a night. We have standards here after all and all that hair your Sisters are showing is scandalous!”
Sisters Einaudi and Darrow smirked, Einaudi’s lustrous raven tresses almost as black as her lips, Darrow’s locks as bright as her eyes. Little did Mother Vera know how much more they would show her by their trip’s end…
It was a dark and stormy night in the village and all avoided the mayor’s home as if it were some demon haunted ruin. Ferocious rains slammed against the building while warm lantern light poured out its humble square windows. The voluptuous silhouette of two large orbs widened out against the glass and left nothing to doubt on who was being ravished that night.
Josie, the mayor’s sweet, buxom daughter who had an admirer for every house in the village, had at last had her flower plucked. Within the room itself strange and terrible whispers gathered as the lantern light flickered like ghosts in the wind.
Josie’s soul cried out in terror while her body swam in ecstasy. Melehan was addicted to watching her firm, fleshy ass cheeks ripple and wave with each slam against her pussy. His hands squeezed and cupped her large breasts greedily, loving the feel of her soft globes rebounding against his palms.
Dark and evil power simmered at the base of his cock, slowly seething up his shaft, eager for the release that would send it into the pure and voluptuous vessel before him. The untainted innocence of her soul called to the vile prince, something noble, something unique… something to despoil and take from the world forever.
Her lack of experience with sin seemed to make her skin softer, her womanhood smoother and the silken weight of her bosom like divine fruits ripened to perfection. “Please… my lord, spare me… spare me the gift… I am unworthy of it!” she moaned, her body shaking in orgasm.
Melehan smiled. It was a common thing among the people to say they were unworthy of Morgana’s evil overtaking their souls as a means of not insulting those who would dole it out. “You sly little strumpet! I am the Queen’s son, not only will you receive it, but you’ll be more ‘gifted’ than all the rest!” Josie sobbed in pleasure and despair, the steady rhythm of flesh clapping against flesh an accompaniment to her sounds of excitement.
By the Queen’s decree not every soul in the land was to be lured into darkness. After a disastrous civil war in the north, it was decided most unwise to have a population composed entirely of the damned. Now, only the purest in the land were to be defiled as the opportunity presented itself.
And for Melehan, the opportunity had more than presented itself. To have such a ripe morsel before him, unknowing of the ways of such a grim and fallen world, he was obligated to drag her into damnation before anyone else did.
At once he buried himself inside her to the deepest extent and pressed her against the window, her ample tits pillowed out into large circles. “Take it, wench! Take it all!” He squeezed her round and peachy cheeks as sheer pleasure detonated in his nerves and his long aching cock spewed the essence of corruption deep into her depths.
Josie slumped down the window and shivered, her whimpers music to his ears. “No… I can feel it…” she gasped as the rush of release washed through body, weakening her legs but making her back arch like a jungle cat in heat. “Oh god! No!” her fingers scratched against the glass while sporadic husky moans erupted from her lips.
Melehan’s smile widened with gleeful malice as he felt dark power sweep through him and pass deep into the villager’s flesh. Veins of shadow criss-crossed her smooth back, vile roots searching for purity to strangle. The dark prince pulled her away from the window and groped the soft and round peaks of her bosom, his fingers sinking deep into thick breastflesh as he whispered in her ears insidious words of power.
Sibilant and seductive, his voice wormed into what was left of her soul and tore it out in an explosion of pure pleasure. Josie’s sweet and pink womanhood quivered over his cock in another chain of desperate contractions before all strength left her utterly. She slumped off his rod and onto the floor.
Josie convulsed in mad ecstasy, her limbs stretching rigid as the exquisite pleasure of evil bonded with her ready and helpless soul. Strange and perverse thrills raced up her body as she beheld the Queen of Camelot in her mind’s eye. Her twin violet eyes, burning like cosmic fires, demanded entrance to Josie’s battered soul.
And entrance she was granted. Josie’s hefty tan lined breasts careened against each other in a frenzy as dark power flooded through her soul, her eyes snapping open as the invasive presence licked at the lingering threads of goodness, a breath away from changing her into a sinful, obedient shell of a being.
She felt that there were now two souls in her body. One spirit was the greatest and most treacherous sorceress the land had ever seen… the other was a barely above a common peasant. The Queen’s claws of blissful enslavement sank deep into Josie’s being, supping on her innocence and feeding her depravity.
Stripped of sweetness and mercy, emboldened with a lust for debauchery and cruelty, Josie moaned sporadically as the Queen’s evil swept through her body, changing her forevermore. Her soft belly heaved and her heavy breasts wobbled atop her chest, her fate as inescapable as her pleasure. She saw future visions of herself sleeping with other husbands throughout her village, sucking the life from some as they sucked upon her spectacular breasts, delivering murderous bastard sons for others and their tormented wives.
She couldn’t imagine a more meaningful existence.
Melehan slumped back onto the village woman’s bed, beaming with pride as he watched her writhe on the floor, subjected to the corruption pumping through her veins and the unholy rapture that burned across her nerves. Her groping hands skimmed across skin made wintry white, her tan lines erased, her imperfections smoothed. Atop her tossing and turning head, dirty blonde hair darkened into a foamy mass of lightless black. As her convulsions ceased, silence reigned. And in that silence, a crooked grin dawned on her face that mirrored Melehan’s own.
As her own soul had been twisted, so too had her body been reformed to twist the souls of others, in honor of her new mistress. “Thank you…” she breathed and reached toward his ankles, ready for another round of debauchery. She kissed Melehan’s feet and looked adoringly upon his chiseled figure.
Melehan smiled down at her, his eyes gleaming with the light of sorcery. “It was my pleasure. But… my night has only just begun.”
“Oh yes it has…” she moaned and rose into his lap, her perfect alabaster breasts calling to him, so full, and so bountiful that the prince lost his purpose for a moment.
“Not here, however. I have longer to go, to pay the Orcs in kind for what they have done here today.”
She giggled, her enormous pale tits jiggling to her motion. “Oh. That. That was nothing big. Just a few peasants.”
If only I could convince mother of the same, he thought. Her loyalties had already changed so much. Melehan was pleased. When he took her before she was still crying about those nameless dogs.
“Alas, duty calls.” Dark mists swirled around his muscled form until they solidified into a suit of black and gold trimmed armor. “Don’t cause too much damage while I’m gone.” he said with a grin.
Josie played with herself, moaning wantonly, his words already but echoes in her ears while her awakened mind dreamt of what sweet torments she would visit on those who once admired her… like the prince, her night had only just begun.
Melehan swept through the forest outside the town like a plague of steel, uncaring of how many beasts he slit open in his rage to move forward. Dark green trees glowed silver in the moonlight and thorn bushes gnawed at his heels like rabid dogs. He stopped at last when he heard a moan and a din of grotesque, boisterous shouts.
Perched from a hill he looked down the slope and saw a blazing campfire with many huge, muscle bound warriors trudging about. Orcs, he noted with distaste. Their green skin rippled with each step and he found an unmistakeable dullness in their eyes. Their actions bespoke of an intellect akin to rocks and other inanimate objects, reflected in how some chased after fireflies and others repeatedly stuck their hands in the campfires until a smarter one knocked them about the head.
Just within distance of the campfire’s glow was a shapely captive. Melehan grinned. Arch Mistress Krela writhed against her bonds, having been strapped to a timber post. She was just as busty as he remembered and he fought back his hard on as his eyes drank in her huge and rounded breasts, still pushed up into a valley of succulent cleavage from all her bonds.
Like most of his Queen’s followers, her skin was creamy and porcelain. Lustrous sable locks shimmered down to her lush thighs and juicy bottom. The Orcs had her upper body tied up but the lower half was free and gave leave for her toned legs to splay wide and leave her pink pussy exposed.
Even from his vantage point he could see her snatch glisten and stream and her eyes flutter with a certain heavy lidded flourish. The various fumes in the camp had thrown her into an erotic delirium. Melehan imagined slaughtering them all and then punishing her for her capture with a heavy spanking. Before he could plan further a guttural roar erupted into the open.
“Kokar to fuck fuck!” bellowed a new imposing warrior, even more muscled than his underlings and dwarfing them all like a jade giant. He dragged a club behind him in the dirt and killed a few of his grunts who couldn’t move out of the way fast enough with one blow.
“Fuck fuck!” the Orcs cheered and set about pounding on wardrums to a simplistic beat that withered Melehan’s ears. He grimaced when the brute grabbed Krela by her flared hips and plunged his staggering Orcish cock deep into her pussy. Her ivory legs were bright against his emerald flesh and shook in begrudged pleasure as the rest of her body did much the same.
Melehan unsheathed his blade and leapt down the hill. This will be easier than I thought. Under the cover of the drum beat and the raucous moans of the cruel witch, the dark prince shed their blood, moving among the green dullards like a black river of death.
Arch Mistress Krela bit her lips as the slavering beast penetrated her in ways she hadn’t felt before. With the strange fumes in the encampment, any little touch sent her spiraling into pleasure. As it was already, she had been rattled by at least three orgasms from his rippling manhood. Her plush and tight inner walls sucked along his shaft as if in a feeding frenzy, so desperate she was for penetration.
Her plump and spectacular tits jounced around in their confines like two quaking swells of cream. Kokar was too impatient to free them, concerned only with getting his nut off. Still the warlord’s eyes widened over the mesmerizing jiggle of her melons. Krela was embarrassed to moan as the hot saliva from his tusked mouth fell over the pale slopes of her cleavage, dribbling around those smooth mounds and tantalizing her nipples. Nipples that begged to be sucked and remained imprisoned.
Her unsatisfied longing for a tongue upon her bosom exploded through the outlet of her squelching pussy. Swollen and engorged pink lips grabbed his thrusting green cock like a second mouth and quivered as pure sexual heat ravaged her body and goaded the Orc to spew his load.
“Argh! Kokar will make you like Kokar! Soon be like Mama Okok!” Krela didn’t know or care what the savage meant in his pidgin tongue, only that her lusts be slaked and the fool deprived of his head soon after. Dimly she was aware of the sound of bodies falling to the ground in the outer ring of the encampment and that the primal lull of the drums had fallen off.
All of the sudden the Orc’s hands grabbed her vast globes of titflesh and squeezed like a madman. “HNNNNGH! Kokar fuck fuck fuck!” His muscular body convulsed over hers and she was crushed to his barbaric chest as her lithe legs wrapped around his thick waist. She came again and squirted all over his veiny Orcish weapon as blast after blast of the greenskin’s seed jetted into her welcoming womb.
Each strand of his potent essence was thicker and more hot than any man she’d soul sucked before and it was then the heartless witch knew something else was afoot. Orgasmic gasps ripped forth from her voluptuous lips and her head was alight with the blaze of carnal euphoria. The warm sensation of the Orc’s seed seemed to spread further than was possible, reaching up past her belly, down her legs and even crawling up around her heaving breasts!
The Orc had a dumb grin on his face and then fell away from her into the dirt, utterly spent, his rut complete. Once the warmth reached her head, her body shook and bucked in ecstasy. Her giant breasts wobbled from side to side within her smothering outfit and her legs spasmed as if her whole body had been penetrated.
Her bright lilac eyes rolled back into her sockets and drool streamed from her supple mouth as her mind and soul were cooked with overwhelming pleasure. “Ohhhhhh fuck… fuck fuck FUCK!” she moaned and steam rose from the twin glistening mounds of her shuddering bosom. She had felt this sensation only once before in her life: the day she turned to darkness.
This time, instead of thoughts of evil, erotic devilry, carnal torture and sadism and staining purity her sentiments were far more provincial: to fuck and fuck some more and to kill anyone who got in her way of propagating the Orcish horde. She was delighted with the simplicity of this new purpose and surrendered to it as every inch of her body sizzled with erotic stimulation.
Her skin burned as hot as her skull, her bones like molten lava as orgasm after orgasm battered her into mind numbing submission. Her long legs spread wide as they jerked to her unnatural ecstasy, tearing at the high sheen black silks that caressed her thighs. Her fingers curled so hard against her palms that she drew blood, her euphoric moans of sexual surrender like some crazed mating song.
All that blazed within her dreams was want of a manhood and hot seed. Needs like food and sadistic whippings crumbled to ash in the flames of her new desires. She felt her saliva drenched lips scrape against something hard and glossy. She gasped in delight when she realized it was her new pair of Orcish tusks.
Her lush hips and fleshy ass cheeks bucked and bounced against her restraints and the pole. Aggressive and lustful, her motions bespoke of a deep and abiding need for penetration. A howl of triumph and strident pleasure burst from her plump lips as she felt her shoulders broaden and her restraints snap, her freedom coinciding with another body flattening climax.
Her eyes were thrown for a bout of disorientation as the ground grew more distant before her eyes, her height now towering and amazonian. She arched her back defiantly, and her titanic bosom pressed forward against her tight ebon silks. Spectacular breasts ripped free from her outfit and out spilled the round flesh of her emerald melons, like gigantic upturned green teardrops crowned with even darker green nipples. “Fuck fuck!” she screamed and came again. She stumbled to her knees, overloaded with erotic stimulation as her eyes took in her new jade complexion.
Melehan strangled the last drum player and his face blanched when he saw the new Krela. “Oh… this is new.” He stepped over the greenskin’s corpse and came into the firelight. He tilted his head at her, trying to find any old familiarity in her features. Slight tusks rose from her jaw and he was greeted with the improbable sight of a woman with voluptuous green peaks larger than even the witches of the Black Moon and with the hard, sculpted curves of an eastern barbarian she-warrior.
As she got back on her feet his pulse pounded when he saw the luscious round domes of her glistening ass. Her soft and bulbous emerald cheeks beckoned him to tackle and mount her and not stop until his lusts had cooled. When she looked to him, the same dullness he had seen in the Orc men now filled her gaze. “Fuck fuck…” she slurred and jiggled her colossal breasts, so plentiful and plump, heavy and green, Melehan’s fingers ached to hold them like the treasures they were.
Before he could indulge himself, Kokar leapt up to his feet and brandished his club. “No fuck him! Mama Dark’s son, too dark!” Melehan collected his wits and drew up his sword as the brute swung his club. “Kill kill!” shouted the Orc as he connected a savage blow against the prince’s blade, the swing sending a devastating shock through the dark lord’s armor and flesh..
Melehan blocked another blow and knew he could not do it a third time. His hands were numb and his shoulders and bones were rattled as much as he could bear. In one sudden movement he distracted the green savage with a sweeping feint of his sword and then loosed his dagger under the brute’s guard, plunging up underneath the Orc’s throat while his club swung for his blade.
The prince grinned as Kokar fumbled backwards, clutching his spewing throat in a futile rage. Now was no time for a celebration however. From the surrounding forest he saw multiple lines of torch light, clubs and axes in the air, each one hooting a barbaric and bloodthirsty chant. He backed away from the chieftain’s corpse and spared a look over his shoulder at the new dim faced Krela.
His mouth watered at her ripe and heaving green melons, their enormous round size forming a juicy chasm of emerald cleavage, even without benefit of a bra. His last glimpse was of Krela motioning to the Orcish reinforcements. Her swooping hips were turned to the side as she screamed for them to kill the prince, her high and thick ass cheeks jiggling to her outrage, taunting him with their softness as he ran into the woods…
Morvith stood watch over the chapel as confession boxes were set up at the ends of the pews. Mother Vera had given him free reign in places of worship in honor of his position as Paladin, but little else. Which suited him just fine. All he needed was this opening.
And a volunteer. Someone to demonstrate that the boxes worked without arousing suspiscion. He turned to the source of the tugging on his luxuriant cloak. His smile was bright and charming as he beheld the young nun at his side. “Yes Sister, what is it?”
The girl was flustered, petite and virginal but no great beauty to die over. She would make the perfect… volunteer. “I’m uh- Annette! Sister Annette and ah… you’re the first Paladin we’ve seen in ages- that I’ve seen ever- there was another one who went to fight the Queen in the capital, but that was long ago.” She stuttered and lost focus under Morvith’s piercing and silent gaze. “A-anyway! I was… wondering. What… what has His Holiness shown you? I mean does he show different things to Paladins than he does to us?”
He rose her hand to his lips and kissed like a gentlemen, making her blush like a tomato. “That is a delightful question.” he whispered and brought her close, more intimate than holy servants ought to be. “Why don’t I show you?” He pulled away and tilted his chiseled face to the side, a slight smirk on his lips, “Sister Darrow, if you please.”
The one and only Darrow emerged from the shadows behind Morvith, walking with primal grace, swaying her mesmerizing hips from side to side, her eyes cool like diamonds but simmering with animalistic lust. Sister Annette seized up in righteous terror at Darrow’s countenance. Never before had she seen a woman made so radiant through the love of His Holiness.
Though she did think it odd that Mother Vera, for all her devotion, did not demonstrate similar beauty. The way Darrow’s huge swells of ivory flesh jiggled and shook to her stride, the beads of her black cross tracing tightly into her mile of tight, copious cleavage, all served to stoke Annette’s envy. Perhaps the Sister would teach her? Perhaps she would teach the whole convent and Mother Vera too?
Her mind swam with possibilities as Darrow’s eyes swam with desire.
The woman’s low cut habit strained to contain the protruding peaks of her bosom, bouncing mightily with each step as if supported by invisible hands. Her hourglass figure stretched the lower parts of her habit just as her waist length platinum blonde tresses clashed against the black, brimming with supernatural holy light.
Annette felt a spur of unease watching how shadows seemed to writhe and coil beneath the woman’s hair but figured the greater the light, the greater the shadow cast. Her intuition was further alarmed on how close Sister Darrow took herself to the brink obscenity, the lower half of her habit more like a skirt, so high up it barely covered the jutting cheeks of her voluptuous bottom. Annette wondered when the woman changed into the unorthodox outfit. Its tight black cloth was losing the battle to hold onto her creamy cheeks, surrendering its hold on her round, plump flesh, inch by inch.
Morvith’s voice broke her out of her consternation. “This is Sister Annette… show her how much His Holiness means to us.”
Darrow smiled. “By all means. Come little one.” Annette was shy in extending her hand, but that was all it took. Darrow’s hand darted out like a viper’s strike, pulling the young woman against her voluptuous body. “Let me show you the shadows that lurk within us all…” she whispered.
Annette knew something was wrong now but it was much too late. She quailed and struggled but Darrow’s hands only dug into her ass and dragged her into the shadows behind Morvith, silencing her protests with a long kiss on the lips, a tongue in the mouth.
Morvith paid little nods to other nuns of the convent as they walked by, who regarded the writhing and groped backside of one of their own in the shadows as odd, the sound of kissing and gasps strange, but so were their visitors and none thought it so offensive to bring it up with the Paladin.
The dark prince knew he might hear about it in the morning, if the rumors carried fast enough. But by then… rumors wouldn’t matter.
Annette, locked within Darrow’s arms, felt the treacherous nun’s hands pulling her own onto the nubile harlot’s body. As Annette’s hands felt the smooth ivory skin beneath the habit she moaned, her fingers instinctively swooping up to cup Darrow’s heavy endowments. Their round shape quickly spilled into her palm and the young nun wondered how anything that felt so good could belong to one who so profaned her lord.
The wonder however, was not to last. As she squeezed Darrow’s pale, ample mounds, she felt the Sister rip away the cloth covering her groin, exposing her little pink flower. Darrow too, brought her own pussy to bear and their womanhoods grinded and kissed, Darrow’s sensual whispers of dark prophecy bringing a lustful shiver to the young nun’s body.
Her breath quickened as she fell deeper into her enthrallment, the feel of Darrow’s exquisite flesh and the flow of her feminine globes in between her fingers almost too much to bear. She broke away from the dark nun’s lips just once, to look upon her visage.
It was the very image of terror and desire. With her glamor down, Annette bore witness to dark shadows writhing underneath Darrow’s fair skin, a crown of flesh toned horns rising from her forehead and enchanting yellow eyes that pulsed with a timeless, surreal light.
The air left her lungs and Annette’s lips parted in awe, completely lost in Darrow’s perverse wonder and irresistibly doomed to succumb to it. Her mouth twitched into a strange smile, her mind mired in the pleasurable wrongness of what she felt. With a drawn out sigh her body surrendered to the drowning ecstasy of what she would become.
The pale and warm flesh of Sister Darrow’s immense tits poured between her fingers, her senses addicted to such satiny smooth skin against her own. Low moans of content reached from her lips as she heard Darrow’s seductive whispers. Words of treachery and betrayal, of lustful destruction and rebirth basked in her unknowing mind. And Annette, unseasoned against the heresies of the world, took them in like water to a sponge.
Her moistened thighs shook mercilessly, her soft belly writhed to dark thrills and her perky breasts rose to aroused points. With a moan of surrender she slumped further into Darrow’s grasp. Her delicate face fell into the wicked nun’s mammoth swell of ivory cleavage, the succulent breast flesh molding against the young nun’s face while Darrow’s perfumes further seduced her senses.
From within Darrow’s rosy folds something dark stirred and writhed with evil life, eager to corrupt the purity in its grasp. And deep between their legs, between predator and prey, a union was made, made of the purest essence of evil. Annette sighed and trembled as she held her new mentor close.
The darkness poured in.
Melehan rested in the light of the moon in the Elven forest ruins. He was still catching his breath and stretching his fingers when he heard a voice like rain in the winter winds. “That was very brave of you.” the voice said, and Melehan’s eyes darted to every dark corner for ambush. “But you’ll need to strike deeper in their territory to rid the forest of the Orcs.”
Before he could snarl in reply the woman came out, like a walking dream. Her ethereal dress glowed like bluish silver and her hair ran like pale gold down her shoulders, caressing a set of breasts that made the dark prince salivate. Round and protruding, her luscious flesh had a heavenly glow about it and he ached to have one of those pouting mountains of femininity in his mouth.
“I am Sabis and I’m-”
“An Elf.” finished Melehan, pointing to her pointed ears. He stood up and regarded her untouched purity with malevolent intent. “I am Prince-”
“Melehan, Son of Queen Morgana.” the Elf said, smiling. “I know who you are.”
Melehan laughed and stepped closer to her. “Well then wise Elf, you would know it’s most unwise to approach a lord of the Black Moon alone.”
She came up to Melehan and pressed her full and heavy breasts against his chest. “I know!” she whispered, “I came to surrender myself to you. I’d rather be with Morgana, than be one of them.” She tilted her head in the direction of a broken Orc skull lying on the ground.
Melehan stroked his chin. “Interesting. You know I’d imagine it wouldn’t be so bad to be them, for a woman anyway. Have you seen how they’re built? I may just bring a few into the Queen’s fold…”
She pulled away. The way her sizable, glowing breasts bounced within her plunging, translucent dress commanded the prince’s attention. “You can’t! They no longer have the minds for it… they have minds for nothing but murder and carnal debauchery.”
“We have something in common then.”
Sabis nodded with a hint of sadness on her face. “After Morgana’s rise to power, the Elves were desperate to stem the tide of corruption. Lady Orise proposed we use the forbidden Stone of the Incorruptible. We thought it would turn our warriors into avenging warriors of justice…”
“You fools thought something just and good could spring from something forbidden?”
Tears rolled down Sabis’s pink cheeks. “Yes. These were not warriors of justice, but savage killers and obscene women. I watched my mother, a delicate and refined woman turn into a mindless beast, consumed with her desire for men. These Orcish women…” she shuddered, “they don’t give birth like any other. They can carry three to four at a time who mature into full warriors in days.”
“You introduced a new snake to drive out the old… it’s easy to see where they get their breathtaking imbecility from.” He grabbed her by the ass and plundered her sweet, soft lips. “But I’ve had enough of your sob story! I’ve always wanted to taste Elf!”
Sabis gasped and her ethereal dress fluttered around her curvaceous form, the silvery blue threads obscuring the size and shape of her generous chest. “But I’m not done with my tale! I didn’t really intend to surrender!”
Melehan cackled. “Yes you thought you could inspire ME to take pity and kill them all for you. So you came to me dressed like a harlot with no weapons! You people really are too dumb to live.”
“Please! I may be the last of my kind!” she cried as the prince’s hands swept up her smooth belly, cupping the heavy handfuls of her bosom.
Melehan tore her dress away and evil joy burst in his black heart as he witnessed her ripe and milky breasts wobble free into the moonlight. “So much the better! You’ll be a foul wench just like your mother!”
“Noooo!” she wailed. With the sorcerous strength inherited from his dark parentage he tackled her down to the mossy ground. His lips fell upon her round breasts, tasting of her sweet and untainted flesh. Her nipples warmed up to his salacious tongue and a gasp full of outrage and arousal escaped her supple lips.
“You cannot fight the inevitable! You’ll bend to the Queen’s will like so many others.” Her futile struggles stoked his desire. Every weak punch and push with her small hands against his chest only pushed him on to loosen the armor surrounding his groin. “It is… your destiny.” His last word was punctuated by the metallic sound of his cod piece hitting the ground, allowing his steaming member to rise like a vile serpent about to defile a holy grove.
With a slow hiss of wicked relish, he sank his cock deep into her tight and unclaimed pussy. Her whimper of excitement was a pleasure all of its own. The warmth of her pussy enlivened the cold blooded prince and he began to thrust mercilessly into her silken depths. He rammed himself deep into her folds. Intoxicated by the wet friction of her inner walls, he grabbed onto her bountiful and smooth lily white tits, his hands shadows against her glowing complexion.
His hands kneaded and squeezed those soft, jiggling mounds, thumbing over marbled pink nipples as ripe and healthy as her slit. Her sweet face was contorted in ecstasy, unused to such masculine ministrations. Melehan groaned from the way her tightness wrapped around his cock, so overtaken by him that the Elven girl had no choice but clamp her flushed and glistening lips against his thrusting shaft.
His inhumanly fast and hard poundings made a sound like a paddle beating on the water as her pussy surrendered to his wicked weapon, their flesh clapping together as her love juices gushed out with each plunge. The Elf girl still clung to her soft and gentle heritage. She was not made for the harsher lovemaking of those outside her land. Orgasm after orgasm had sent her naïve mind into a carnal cloud of confusion, her shapely legs spread high in the air and quivering helplessly in between the dark prince’s passionate intrusions.
Drawing on his inherited spellcraft, he focused on his Queen mother’s dark soul essence from leagues away and drew it to himself, a channel for her corrupting power. The forest’s midnight shadows turned blackish blue. Where the moonlight shone through the waving leaves, the places it shined upon turned pale violet. The vile light began to swirl and move by its own volition, twirling like snow drifts and seeping into the prince’s muscular form.
Melehan pressed the Elf woman’s heavy and ample tits together as a rising sense of power built within. His Queen’s whispers began to hiss by his ears, urging him to seal his victim’s fate and destroy the last vestige of purity in the forest. Sabis, for her part, was near unconscious. Drool streamed from the corners of her mouth and her eyes fluttered to Melehan’s powerful and hard flesh. Her soft and voluptuous body was caught in a helpless daze from his lusty conquest.
“Feel the evil swim within you, wench!” growled Melehan as his fingers sank deep into her large, ripe and glowing breasts, plundering all he could from her silken titflesh. He was lost in the sensation of drinking up and staining her purity. And like a long simmering volcano he erupted within her, passing Queen Morgana’s dark curse into Camelot’s last pure Elf.
Sabis bucked and moaned in surprise as Melehan’s evil flowed into her womb. Eyes rolled back into her head as she jutted her plentiful breasts out, overcome with the ecstasy of feeling dark yet invisible chains enclose around her sweet little soul. Her pussy flooded a deluge of sweet nectar around Melehan’s surging cock as the most intense release she had felt yet burned into her soul and body.
The Elf moaned helplessly, the pleasure of having her pure flesh tainted almost as great as the rippling manhood that pistoned between her lush and quivering thighs. With each ejaculation of the most corrupt seed in the land, a heavier weight of temptation was placed upon her soul. Thoughts of just giving into his evil crept into her mind, tickling her senses with a siren call that compelled her surrender to darkness.
Melehan buried his face in the deep, milky valley of her swollen mounds, the soft, warm flesh of her heavy tits swelling around his face. He heard her precious heart thunder beneath her luscious bosom, quavering in terror and desire as his darkness remade her. With each spew and jerk of his shuddering cock, he felt more his dark will imposed on her, bringing her ever closer into his Queen’s service.
The whispers of his dark Queen fluttered through Sabis’ mind. Light and silken, her twisted voice wrung sweet elation and submission from Sabis’ soul. The Elf burned with desire as the Queen’s vile son licked over her heaving breasts, twisting his tongue around her supple flesh and hard nipples. More and more she seemed to slip from her high perch of virtue, visions of destruction and riotous lust engaging her sensibilities more than the duty to do good, to care for the forest and its innocent creatures.
The dark prince continued thrusting into her hot and clenching love tunnel, relishing the way her ample breasts billowed out across her chest, rippling with each lustful thrust. The way her legs tensed and shook he knew she was close to release… and so much more. “I can… I can feel her… inside… dark fingers pulling at me…” moaned Sabis, her pussy still gorging itself on Melehan’s potent load. “I can’t… mother would-”
Melehan pulled away from the high and bounteous slopes of her tits and swept her head up, whispering into her ear. “Your mother doesn’t care about you. She’s a whore now. Worse, she’s an Orcish whore. All you can do is join the Queen. Armor yourself in her darkness, brandish her cruelty and be the demon of these woods, its betrayer and savior.”
Sabis shuddered at his harsh words, but deep down, knew they were true. Her mother was no longer her mother and she herself… was doomed. With an orgasmic sigh she released her last crumbling spiritual defense and let the final rush of Melehan’s evil take her.
Her legs flew forward, drawing him in tight around the waist to feel him as deep as possible. A deranged grin widened her face while her eyes sparkled with new, infernal witchlight. Surrender felt so good. So right. And it came with a torrent of unholy pleasure dawning in her loins, sending her into terrible spasms as all she was, was sundered before the combined will of the Queen and her son.
“Yessss…” she hissed and arched her back, pushing the prince’s mouth onto one of her round, plump breasts. She felt every piece of her innocence burnt away from her soul, her moans of joy a testament to the glory of becoming something more. Melehan’s insidious seed ensured nothing of the original Sabis would remain but for her undying hatred for the Orcs.
She sobbed and squirmed in gleeful abandon underneath him as Queen Morgana’s curse burned through her, remaking her. The pure soul melting ecstasy of her metamorphosis almost made her black out. But she rode it out, feeling every new sensation as the Queen’s black magic changed her forever.
Veins rich with corruption raced along her arms and legs, greedily stealing the Elf’s heavenly light, her skin turning into the shade of alabaster stone. Her resplendent tresses, like white gold, were befouled as inky darkness descended down their length, all to her erotic gasps of surrender.
Melehan felt first hand how her generous breasts grew into huge and spectacular size, their enormity held high and pert with supernatural buoyancy. He grinned to the sensation of her small and pixie-like bottom growing into plush and gropeable ass cheeks, their soft heart shape filling up his palms as her expanding tits pushed against his face.
Their tongues twisted and writhed in each others mouths like wicked serpents. Sabis’ moans were intense and wanton. Her long fingers digged into Melehan’s back as her great and copious ivory breasts spread out against his muscled chest. He pulled away from her black lips and beheld her eyes. Her irises had turned pale and milky while her pupil’s were thin and catlike, glowing in a surreal shade of violet.
She looked at him with the kind of perverse smile that warmed his icy heart and made his cock harden in turn, ready for another plowing.
“Welcome… to the Queen’s embrace.”
Morvith walked in step with Mother Vera down the rows of the chapels pews. “I understand you are… unused to the act of confession. But it is yet another defense we must employ in these dark times.” He stopped, taking a breath as he assumed a look of contemplation. “Besides, Sister Annette has attested to the joy of confession. The hope she felt afterward, the righteousness she saw-”
“Poppycock!” spat Mother Vera as she watched one of the Sisters emerge from a confession box, dazed and glassy eyed. “We confess our sins when we come into His Holiness’s righteous bosom! Wars have been started over less for this nonsense.”
Morvith snickered. “Yes well we don’t exactly have the numbers for that kind of thing. Unless you mean to have starving orphans and cowering women beat up on equally emaciated men across the realm.”
“I just might!” Vera snapped. Another Sister slumped out of her confessional box in a crumpled heap, moaning and drooling on the floor, her hair in a tangle. “Just look at this! How can they serve His Holiness if they’re passed out like some tavern harlot!?”
“Confessing one’s sins… is an exhilarating experience for some. Have faith Vera, if you can.” In an instant the haughty prince was slapped, but it did not diminish his smile. His cheek burned while white smoke floated from Vera’s palm.
The old woman’s eyes were livid and flared with holy light for but a moment in the face of the towering lord.”That is the last time you question my faith. Now after tonight, these absurd boxes will be torn down, you’ll be gone, and I’ll hear no more of this ‘confession’!”
“As you wish.” he said, watching as she walked away and his smile broadened. Lucky for you, I’m not my brother. He envisioned Melehan swiping off the shrew’s head for her insolence, but, as ever, he imagined a more insidious retaliation…
He turned around and was greeted with the sight of the luxurious haired and heavy chested Sister Einaudi. Since her arrival at the church she had lowered her habit more and more, showing off a tightly packed valley of ivory white cleavage accented by her black cross, plunging down in between the unimaginably soft flesh that many men would kill to drown between. His gaze roved over to the Sister at her side, a shy nebbish thing, thin and small but full of potential.
“My lord Paladin,” said Einaudi, her voice smooth and sensual, “this is Sister Grace. She’s seen the truth of our ways and wishes to… confess.” she finished the last bit with a sly smile.
Morvith shook Grace’s hand. “What a lovely name. And how appropriate that you are now to receive the greatest grace from His Holiness-”
The girl broke down with tears in her eyes. “I confess my lord, when I was little, I saw a delicious apple in my neighbo-”
Morvith waved his hand. “Not here. In the box. Come.” The two led the girl back down the lines of pews and then across to the side. Melehan smiled as he heard slight, muffled thumping sounds down the row of confessionals followed by rattling doors and desperate heavy panting. Grace looked concerned from the strangeness of it all and Melehan rested a hand on her shoulder. “Be not afraid. Go inside, and know peace.”
Grace walked into the box, her shoulders scrunched and her face uncertain. Morvith smirked. How quickly that would change. “Is it locked?” he said to Einaudi.
The corrupted nun slid the deadbolt on the door and smiled, licking her lips lasciviously. “It is now, my lord.”
“Good. It’s all in the Confessor’s hands now.”
Sitting in the stifled box, Grace thought the handsome Paladin had at last stepped in the other side. “My lord?”
“Yessss…” hissed the other voice. She figured it odd how different he sounded through the barrier but thought it just a trick of the screen.
“I confess, I stole an apple from Lady Margary’s garden when I was eight and-”
“Ohhh one of these again,” rattled the voice, “Just shut your worthless mouth! Let me give you something to really sin about!”
Grace yelped at the sudden violence in his voice and wondered if this was part of the whole thing. “My lord I’m sorry-” At once a violet shadow seeped out in front of her and stuffed her mouth. Though cloudy, the thing felt solid… what she imagined a man might feel like if he was…
Her cheeks flushed red as a weak moan rose from her throat. “I told you to be QUIET!” In a spray of dust from above, sallow, ghoul-like hands slapped her across the face while she made muffled gagging sounds. Another set of hands reached from behind and tore down at her habit. “Soft… skinny… weak. You will be made strong… beautiful… a voluptuous light wreathed in darkness, a walking temptation of the flesh!” She moaned as the hands groped her slender body and pressed her perky mounds together.
The young nun whimpered when the evil force shot up below her seat, sending wood splinters everywhere. A phallus that shimmered in the light angled itself between her legs. Her eyes watered in fear as the thing seethed with arousal, eagerly drawing near her unprotected womanhood. Unlike the shaft in her mouth, this one looked as real and solid as the box itself.
In one fell swoop, the cloth surrounding her loins, robe and panties all, were ripped away by the ghoulish hands. “How to ruin you first…” At once the cock plunged into her warm folds, heedless of her tightness. “Oh a virgin! So many of these girls were liars… but you… true and faithful to the end!”
She moaned in protest as the strange cock broke her in. Never before in her life had she felt more helpless or more aroused. What she feared most was the ever sharpening sensation of pleasure at the edge of her discomfort… she couldn’t give in… her faith was strong.
The dark spirit was merciless, penetrating between her shaking legs at a thundering pace that sent her carnal juices spraying all over the ruined velvet seat. Her jaw had relaxed enough for the ghost cock in her mouth to plunge down her throat. It went so far down the skin on her neck bulged to the thing’s girthy outline. Gagging and sounds of excitement flooded the box while rivers of drool ran down her neck and over the swells of her quivering tits.
Her thighs had spread wide in surrender and twitched to the dark beast’s infernal passions. The beast groaned as the thickness in her throat shuddered. One set of hands pulled at her hair, yanking her face forward against the phallus in her mouth while the set of hands behind her groped her firm breasts, swallowing up their handful size behind his fingers.”We’re going to have a two for one here, Gluttony and Lust!” As she swallowed gout after gout of his vile essence, she felt her arousal inflame to intolerable heights. Her curved hips swiveled forward as she angled her pussy up, desperate to feel more of his penetration.
She pushed herself forward on the cock, its heavy thickness in her love passage affecting her inner walls with unreal stimulation. Her pussy contracted to her manic sobs of joy, the ethereal concoction flowing down her throat filling her mind with visions of chaos and evil. She saw herself as alluring, sleek and curvaceous. She saw those of nobler hearts at her feet, unable to withstand her wicked beauty.
Insidious whispers slithered through her ears and deep into her soul, like dark fins encircling the faltering light of her innocent soul. Her loins gushed with insane arousal, her heaving breasts flushed pink to her wanton excitement. Though sorely tempted to give into her infernal lusts, her spirit held on, her years as a virtuous woman before her violation like a stubborn but crumbling defense against the forces of darkness.
In between each husky moan and blast of forbidden pleasure, a little voice in her mind cried out, begging her not to give in. Unless the cursed creature stopped its assault, it seemed inevitable that she would betray her soul. A moan of elation floated up from her stuffed lips at the thought of giving herself to sin. She was so foolish to not have known how Sisters Einaudi and Darrow came by their beauty, how the Sisters around her seemed to have grown younger and more feminine. A part of her thought she deserved this fate for being so weak, another was excited by the prospect of change.
When his phantom cock pulled away from her mouth and his lower phallus drew out between her legs she loosed a contented sigh. Her head drooped down with relief, her eyes dazed and her throat sore. Some of his vile concoction seeped between her lips like a blackish purple fog. Had she been saved? Had her wavering faith in His Holiness stopped what seemed so inescapable?
The creature’s ghostly voice came back again and put her doubts to rest.”There is but another sin… my sweet.” She gasped in excitement as the lower phallus rose up from her broken seat, tempting her battered senses to ride it once more. “Forsake His Holiness and know the Queen’s love!”
Some of the old Grace still hung feebly onto her morals and goodness. “I… oh… I need it… but… can’t…” she sighed, feeling weak and hollow without the thickness in her. She inched herself forward over the hole in her seat, trying to goad the thing to pierce her once more before it pulled back into darkness.
Desperation filled her eyes as no hard length came forth. Her heart slammed within her chest, beating more intensely as the trickle of unquenched lusts built up within her core. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as her womanhood throbbed, her breasts heaving as her traitorous body drew her to the precipice of irresistible enslavement.
“Please make it stop!” She twisted wildly within the confines of the confessional box, her wet pink womanhood spasming in fervid motions for want of a cock.
The spirit snarled with irritation. The girl was still pure, her soul frightened but untainted. The sins visited upon her were all without her consent… but if she willfully gave in… then he would have path to her burning white light. “Forsake Him! Or forever suffer the lust you cannot conquer, harlot!”
She moaned to his voice. “I… caaan’t…” Wisps of darkness teased her nipples and caressed her tear stained cheeks. “Please… make it go away… I’ll do anything but that…”
The invisible sensation of something heavy and thick yet moist dragged along her upper thigh, the creature teasing her with the thrills of what she so craved. She shivered in lust. “Him or Her, darling. Him or Her.” his voice was dark and sensuous, full of temptation, not the furious beast from before.
Her body hummed with pleasure as she felt the beginning of something wide and rigid poke at her folds once more. Her breasts shuddered as it held back. “I… I…” more of the purplish black smoke funneled into the confession box, hanging in front of her in anticipation. “I…” it coiled along her skin and teased her senses, like hot and smooth honey running down the back of her legs. “I can’t take it anymore!” she cried and jutted her smooth tits out, “Darkness take His Holiness and me too!”
At once her invisible intruder materialized back into the cock from earlier and lanced her with its wild and iron hard length. “Yessss!” hissed the creature as the pale claws shot back into the confession box and held the nun down. “Take my seed and she’ll take your soul!”
Grace sobbed with orgasmic ecstasy as the creature’s vile weapon exploded inside her. Its dark seed jetted against her quivering pink walls and flooded her ripe and innocent womb, filling her with its accursed spawn. Some of the invading evil raced up past her belly and seeped deep into her flesh and bones, eager to remake her with the blackest of magics.
Morgana’s darkness demanded obedience, and the mere thought of bending to her will made Grace shiver. That her body responded so well to the thought only convinced her more that her choice was the right choice. The only choice. Her bright hazel eyes swirled with inky darkness before her irises flashed like twin violet hells, roiling with the essence of her corruption.
The dark queen’s unfathomable and merciless will poured into Grace’s being, burning her purity and sucking her virtue into a black hole, teeming with sinful carnality and gleeful sadism. All of her carefully practiced morals in honor of His Holiness melted like the snows of yesteryear before her sorcerous lusts.
Her will shattered, Grace’s eyes rolled back in euphoria as her body and soul sealed her lustful surrender. Hot fire raced through her pussy and lances of searing white pleasure bloomed in her breasts. An eerie yet satisfied smirk crept across her face as in some dim and buried part of her mind she realized how good it felt to willingly let evil take root in her soul.
Steam rose off her convulsively orgasmic body as she was reformed into voluptuous and sculpted shape. Her breasts rippled and expanded into glorious and pouting mounds of femininity. Those pale orbs glowed with a kind of unnatural vitality as the rest of her complexion followed suit.
Grace screamed her ecstasy within the confessional, lost in the wicked elation of being remade. Her stomach writhed as her womanhood contracted over the vile phallus buried within. Its swollen head poured hot gouts of darkness into her unknowing form, her belly gurgling insidiously as the evil planted in her shadowed womb flourished.
Every unfortunate scar or early wrinkle was reformed into a texture as smooth as marble. Her hair, brown, dull and restrained in a bun, exploded forth into a lustrous mane of locks as black as the night sky. With every change came a new wave of ecstasy, and through it all, she felt all her innocence ripped away. Gleefully. Pleasurably. And not fast enough.
Steam rose off her skin as the black magic remade her into a thing of beauty. Her thighs turned into shapely masterpieces, thick and feminine yet subtly muscled with sorcerous vitality. Her belly became as lithe as a harem girl’s, glistening with sweat and heaving to her gasps of ecstasy, the dark shadow beneath her pale skin a reminder of what wickedness now lived in her womb.
Her wide and round breasts engorged and swelled to the evil pumping through her heart. The milky slopes of her flesh pressed together from their sheer fullness, creating a deep line of of succulent cleavage. There wasn’t much of the original Grace left, but every last bit of goodness that the vile magic scourged from her body and soul sent her reeling into shrieking ecstasy, her voluptuous peaks colliding with moist smacks to her orgasmic spasms.
The explosive growth of her breasts had settled down, but the pleasure throbbing from her nipples had not. Runnels of perspiration tickled the orbs of her immense tits, drenching the sweeps and valleys of her steaming cleavage with a sheen that made her bosom shine as if it was washed in oil. Her weeping pussy twitched to the aftershocks of her orgasmic damnation, craving of a cock to ride and a soul to steal.
By the time her blood was black with corruption and her soul a crawling shadow of its former self, a voluptuous goddess sat in the confession box. She sunk her fingers into one of her soft and luscious globes and thumbed the nipple as her other hand snaked past her piping hot belly and played with her nub.
She bit her supple lips and hissed in wanton pleasure, lost in the sensation of relishing her new self. She felt Queen Morgana’s all powerful magic sparkle through her transformed flesh and gave a silent prayer of thanks to her for the dark bliss of enslavement.
Outside the box, Morvith and Sister Einaudi smiled, having adopted more pious poses as untouched members of the church passed by. “I’d say the Confessor’s work is done, Sister Einaudi.”
“Yes, my lord. She was one of the last on this side of the church. Only a dozen remain.” Einaudi smiled as she caught Morvith’s unrepentant gaze upon her succulent, overflowing cleavage, about to spill free from her habit. “Sister Darrow is finishing with the others in the church’s living quarters. By morning, all but Mother Vera will be accounted for.”
Morvith stood up, just in time to witness Sister Grace emerge from the confession box. Her own love juices still gleamed on her shapely legs and her huge, luscious tits jerked forward and slapped together to her drunken step. He caught the moaning girl and laid her down on the ground before more sensible eyes could see. “Good.” he said and turned to Einaudi. “I have something special planned for the holy crone.”
Melehan and Sabis had cut across the forest in record time, the sky having lightened to the first rays of morning. Before them lay a sprawling encampment that was four times the size the one he originally found Krela at. Orcs trudged down log ramps with lumber and bags of coal heaped over their shoulders, their faces dour and dull.
Melehan’s eyes scanned the primitive huts, held up by deer and pig skins. Open roofs allowed campfire smoke to filter out to the open. “Where are Krela’s men held?”
Sabis sighed and pressed her voluminous breasts against his side and whispered by his ear. “Already joined the green tide no doubt. They force them to drink from the first she-Orc, Lady Orise.” She pointed to the high throne in the middle of the encampment, built of wood and skulls.
Melehan’s eyes widened at the voluptuous creature that occupied its pelt laden chair. She was tall and statuesque, at least over six feet and managed an impossible form that bulged with well defined musculature but overlaid with a layer of outrageous curves that stoked his dark lusts. Her hair was spiked and brutish and her enormous breasts pointed off her chest like exquisite mountains of soft jade. When she stood up and barked orders to her underlings with her large stick of dangling Elf skulls, he was graced with a side view of her spectacular ass, so round and high he imagined being able to steady a wine goblet over her cheeks.
“Ah, the one they call Mama Okok? Curious name.” He was denied Krela’s Orcish body, he would not lose out again. He resolved to ravish at least one female before he wiped them out. Below the Orc matriarch’s taut belly he noticed a glowing diamond as green as the sea and the size of a gourd, studded into her belt. The Stone of the Incorruptible.
Sabis’s heartless yet honeyed laughter tingled his ears and he was reminded of how he wanted a second helping between the busty Elf’s legs as well. “It’s because she howls ‘Oh cock!’ every time she and her champions rut like farm animals.”
“And I take it Mama Dark is my mother?”
She smiled. “Yes. Given her age and concentration of her magic in your blood, your seed would prove fatal to their women. Pleasurably of course. Ever since they lost a few she-Orcs from a few men whose hearts were blacker than most they’ve forced them all to drink, not mating until they can’t even remember their names, much less how they grew tusks.” She said the last bit with venom in her voice, her eyes blazing with a deathless hatred as she beheld the Orcish warriors.
Melehan lunged up and unsheathed his blade. “Well then, that settles it. Let’s kill them. Not too quickly, I have designs for your Lady Orise…” his eyes narrowed at the she-Orc chieftain and noticed she still wore a torn and frilly skirt that barely covered the globes of her thick and sculpted green cheeks. It was of Elven make but ragged and dirty. Perhaps the only token she has left of her former existence, he thought.
Sabis was surprised but her voice still remained breathy and sensuous as she clung to him. “Don’t you have a specific plan? A strategy?”
Melehan snarled and pushed down the slope without her. “Please, they’re bloody Orcs. Anything more complicated than chop and kill is too high a compliment to pay these cretins.” He glanced over his shoulder and pitched a bolt of shadow at Sabis’s groin. The former Elf maiden twitched and writhed in pleasure to the spell’s touch. “That should help, but don’t let them fuck you.”
When she looked down she saw her crotch sealed up with a shadowy chastity belt, absorbing all light. She looked back to Melehan and saw he was gone. The battle had begun.
Melehan screamed like an enraged wraith and by the time he had reached the bottom of the leafy slope, already fifteen of the Orc’s number lay on the ground in ruinous heaps, their piggish heads rolling down the incline like ugly green boulders.
Mama Okok stood up from her throne and watched the scene intently, while the guards at her throne drooled and gaped at her chiseled body and the bouncing flesh of her perfect tits. Her eyes widened when she saw the black whirlwind of death that Melehan had become, lopping off limbs like they were naught but fields of wheat to be scythed.
Admiration turned to panic when he kicked over sconces full of coal and flames onto her horde’s tents and huts. More chaos bloomed when volleys of shadow and violet light exploded among the tents, vaporizing her legions and devouring them in darkness before they could even draw axes. Her eyes drifted up the nearby hill and she snarled when she saw a cackling dark haired Elf throwing down destruction from her hands. Her primitive mind scrambled to remember, thinking all of her weak kind dead, but the princeling clad in black distracted her.
Melehan had kicked over every bit of coal and flame over, until only he and the Orc matriarch were alone in a great walled circle of fire, cut off from her great numbers and surrounded by the cooling corpses of her dullards. “Lady Orise!” he screamed and jabbed his slick blade in her direction, “I’ve come to claim my recompense for your crimes against the Queen!”
Lady Orise… the sound of the name had a familiar twinge in the back of the busty green savage’s lust addled mind, but she couldn’t place it. Like most pink skin words, just irrelevant noise before the fucking. Still, she knew the last creature she wanted to ride was the one in front of her. His eyes burned violet and his pale, fine features bespoke of a cruelty that eluded and surpassed her own savagery.
She stomped down her steps and accidentally crushed the head of one of her last remaining guards. “You no fuck Okok! You suck ’til green like Okok!” She arched her back and pushed out her titanic juggs, round and hefty, their dark green hue only made them look more bountiful. Her eyes gleamed when she saw the prince’s mesmerized face. Her heart and chest swelled with imbecilic pride, for she knew that having the most spectacular breasts and the deepest cleavage in the horde made her most fit to rule. She knew Elf things, like ‘titles’ and ‘qualifications’ just got in the way. Breasts were best.
Melehan laughed and swiped off the last guard’s head with a blinding flick of his wrist. “I don’t take orders from Orc sluts!” He charged in front of her while she brandished her stick and swung for his head. He dodged the brutal yet clumsy blow and broke the tribal weapon in half. “But I do take pleasure from them.” he sneered and then head butted the savage woman in the head, sending her tumbling back into her seat.
With a pillager’s efficiency, the dark prince sheathed one sword and unsheathed another. Mama Okok looked at his hefty and throbbing member with both terror and desire, but then resolved to kill him before he could. Her strong legs wrapped around his chest and crumpled his armor while she swung herself up to smother him within the silken green expanse of her giant tits.
Melehan’s rage was muffled by the buoyant dark jade slopes that flowed from her chest. His vision was consumed by the massive valley of green cleavage pressing in on his face, his breath dwindling under the onslaught of plump and silken flesh. He coughed when he felt one of her large nipples slip in between his lips and then the dribble of the forbidden Orc elixir that had spelled the doom of Camelot’s most noble people. His face was completely engulfed within her ripe and juicy bosom, so much so he felt her ample flesh heat up and glisten as more of her Orcish concoction flowed from her copious tits.
The prince thought the mixture more bitter and scalding than the witches of the Black Moon. He remained undaunted and fearless of the fatal fluid, even as it flowed across his tongue. His mother’s magic protected him. The more the she-Orc moaned and shuddered, the more she poured of herself into him. “Drink drink!” she gasped, her face in a snarl. Her thighs had lessened in their crushing power to the pleasure sparking across her nipples, though Melehan felt his body struggling to remain cool.
His mother’s dark magic dispersed the Orcish vex like a black viper, swallowing the invading curse whole. But it could not do so forever. His brain would fry before long and then he’d be dead… and Mama Okok would go unplundered. Such a terrible thought moved him to action and he brought his mailed fist down upon the busty primitive’s chest and wailed upon her until she yielded.
At once the feel of her hot yet soft and lush globes fell away and she tumbled back in her seat, coughing. Melehan coughed out a deluge of her Orcish fluids and then lunged down between her thick emerald thighs before she could close them. His armored gauntlets held back her flying fists and pinned them above her head.
“Yes, you’ve got some fight in you, I’ll give you that…” he forced his cock deep into her folds and groaned at how sweltering hot her pussy proved to be… and how deep. He felt as if he could plunge forever but for the limits of his cock. Her inner walls shuddered and spasmed around his manhood with a silken grip, sucking and contracting so hard that were he more aroused he would have come right then. “But now I’m in you.”
Mama Okok looked at him in surprise and fear. He should have turned green by now but his eyes still blazed with the cursed color. Through it all, her dull mind could not resist the pleasure of taking a cock. She was fulfilling her life purpose, even if it lead to death.
“Oh cock! Cock fuck fuck! No!” she bellowed, her muscles straining to throw her ravisher off.
Melehan speared her throbbing pussy with vigor and grimaced when her powerful thighs squeezed around him again, this time around his waist. He wanted this to last forever. To feel her gushing hot slit, to see her colossal, ripe mammaries wobble and collide, twin teardrop orbs graced with the richest shade of viridian his eyes could imagine, just aching to be sucked.
He willed his black gauntlets to fade in a haze of smoke and then groped her mammoth globes with his bare hands, both groaned in pleasure. His fingers sunk into her firm and plump flesh, pushing them against her chest so they swelled below her neck like round green pillows. Her own hands, now free, shot for his neck and strangled him as he fucked her furiously.
Husky and feral moans ripped loose from her tusked mouth while her green eyes blazed wild, desperate to climax, desperate to kill. Melehan fought through the pain of being choked off. The pleasure of squeezing such silky soft and huge, fleshy tits was so great as to put off saving his own life. He grinned as he found a new thrusting rhythm, where every third plunge he would slam her squelching pussy so hard as to break her grip and then take in a fresh breath of air.
He felt her nails digging into his skin and her thick thighs draw him further into her crazed embrace. She needed him deeper. The she-Orc bucked and squirmed underneath him, her taut belly undulating to her body shaking orgasms. Melehan broke away from her puffy and round green slopes of quivering titflesh for a moment to pick her up and take her seat, placing her on top of him.
His hands gripped onto her plump and statuesque emerald ass cheeks, and rammed her against his cock. Her bestial scream of ecstasy made his ears ring while her massive bosom slapped his face, disorienting him with their heavy yet soft weight. Mama Okok swiveled her wide breeding hips as she rode up and down on the prince’s impressive shaft, her juices wetting his girth as much as her shapely green thighs.
“Oh cock oh cock!” she snarled, arching her sculpted back so that her forest green melons could smother Melehan’s face. “You give good fuck fuck, but now I make you dead dead!” Her well-developed ass cheeks bounced and jiggled together furiously, as if in a competition to see which one could flex more and swallow up the prince’s cock the best.
Melehan choked as her hands wrapped around his neck once more, pressing him into the seat with her immense muscular weight atop him. Here the she-Orc was at an advantage and a brief flare of panic ignited in his soul at his grave mistake. Only one thing could save him now.
He let his mind drift to the sheer pleasure of having her tight, velvet inner walls clamp around his cock, to having her voluptuous bottom bounce up and down on him and the hypnotic view of seeing her huge, green and round breasts sway and bob against each other. The wet vice of her tight vaginal muscles smothered his shaft as angrily as her hands around his neck, her round and fleshy jade ass cheeks slamming down on him so hard as to bruise his thighs. Everything about her called to him.
And then he came.
“Fuuuuuck!” both said at the same time, he in release, she in panic. He took solid handfuls of the quivering and soft green domes of her spectacular backside and stuffed his greedy face in between her chasm of cleavage, holding the she-Orc down as his enchanted seed shot into her body and vanquished the Orc curse.
Mama Okok convulsed in ecstasy, the most she had ever felt in her long years as the matriarch of the Orcish horde. Her tusks cut into her lips and her eyes rolled back into her head. Orgasm after orgasm blew through her, rendering her skin numb… her arms stiff… her thoughts more empty… and her heart cold. Breath caught in her throat as she was frozen in a pose of ultimate sexual release, her back arched and her majestic breasts pushed out.
Melehan pulled his cock out when he felt the change come over the she-Orc and lifted her off before she became any heavier. By the time his satiated manhood was covered back up within the confines of his wicked armor, Mama Okok was immortalized within her throne, a statue of shining ebony stone with eyes like gleaming amethysts.
Only the Stone of the Incorruptible lay unscathed by his forbidden touch. He reached forward and broke it off from her now marble belt, sending errant crumbles and pebbles down the she-Orc’s stony legs.
“No my lord, not the stone!” called a voice from behind. He turned and smiled, seeing his one and only Elf pet. Her hands were clasped together in fright, forcing her creamy cleavage into even greater swells above her tight dress.
Melehan laughed and stepped down the throne while the fires continued to burn through the horde around them. He caught a few charred and beefy corpses just outside the ring of fire, eager warriors to save their matriarch, but it was not enough. “My mother will like this gift. Perhaps her arcanists can fix it, make her a new Orc army. One less imbecilic, hopefully.”
“You don’t understand my lord, my people tried to do just that and-”
He placed a hand on Sabis’s shoulder, his voice sharp. “Your people are dead. Mine on the other hand, are not. Nor do we expect miracles from curses.”
The Elf witch bowed her head and hugged his side, grinding her tight pussy against him to calm his agitation. “Yes, my lord, my apologies…”
As they strolled out of the hell the camp had become, oblivious to the collapsing ramps and towers of the Orcs as they fell into flames, he thought aloud. “Well then… Krela’s gone. Now a strapping Orcish whore, likely off sucking some savage in the forest.”
“What a shame…” said Sabis mournfully, but secretly grateful another of her lord’s favorites was out of the way.
Melehan shrugged his shoulders. “Not especially, her previous self was not what one would describe as poetic or gifted. You’ll replace her, being uniquely suited for this territory. You and the new mayor should find many things in common.”
The Elf witch gasped and squeezed his hand in delight. “Oh my, my lord, th-thank you so much for this honor!”
Melehan said nothing and smiled as the flames in the encampment turned into a high blaze, spreading onto the nearby forest trees. He didn’t suspect there would be much of a forest left for Sabis to govern after the inferno but that suited him just fine. The Orcs would be ash and yet another corner of his mother’s empire would reduced to a more manageable scope.
The Queen would be proud.
Mother Vera and Morvith sat across an oak table, sipping morning tea. “I’m just glad your stay is over with. Hard to believe a servant of His Holiness could bring so much insanity and chaos deep into the heart of His flock.”
Morvith took another sip from his cup and chuckled as he put it down. “That is hard to believe. Harder still is when otherwise sensible folk refuse to see what is right in front of them, either out of comfort or despair, they ignore the truth at their own peril…” Many of the church’s nuns had come to see the brave Paladin off, each and every one hiding figures built for sin underneath their thin habits.
Vera frowned and set her cup down with great stillness. “You’re beginning to try my patience.” She glanced at many of the Sisters and felt an uneasy knot form in her stomach. They were all standing in a circle around the table, and each one, down to Sister Grace, had that alluring yet salacious look of Sisters Einaudi and Darrow.
She vowed she would have words with the two indecent Sisters for spreading makeup and other things that made her holy women look like harlots.
Morvith finished his cup. “And I must thank His Holiness for instilling such virtue in you. Otherwise it would have broken already and there might have been a panic before I could finish…”
“Finish what?” she said sharply. Her breath had grown steadily more heavy since sitting down that morning, but chalked it off to her distaste of the visiting Paladin’s demeanor. It had not occurred to her how easily her arthritic hands handled her tea cup now, or the moist softness in her palms, nor the strange tingling that ran all along her skin. She tried to speak again. “Agh… uhhh… ohhh…” she sighed and felt her limbs fall into a numb paralysis while her pious soul quailed with fear.
“I was never going to use the Confessor on you. Truth be told, I don’t think he’d go for anyone so decrepit. Can be very choosy when he wants to be.” he mused and reclined back in his seat and then flicked his fingers at Sister Darrow and Grace. “Girls, please.” He smiled as they emerged from the circle and got behind Mother Vera.
Vera broke through in a moment of clarity. “What in His Holiness’s name are you talk- ohhhhh….” she moaned as Grace and Darrow leaned down and brushed the youthening woman’s ears with their lips. Through their hushed and tantalizing whispers, they uttered words of dark and blissful enslavement upon the holy woman.
Goosebumps ran along her arm and already her face looked twenty years younger. Morvith grinned when he saw the mounds on her chest steadily grow higher and rounder by the second. Vera’s eyes blazed with holy defiance for just a moment, and the dark prince thought he had played his hand too soon. Alas, it was nothing more than a flicker of resistance, the unholy concoction pumping in her veins already having done much to subvert her defenses.
The light of saints and warriors faded from her hands and eyes alike and her gaze glassed over, her robed legs spread wide out of a forgotten carnal instinct.
“Plus, you seemed to have some skill with the holy gifts of your former god. I wasn’t terribly eager to face that head-on and so… Einaudi, proved most helpful.” Morvith was there in the shadows in the early morning. He watched his voluptuous helper grab her weighty and round pale bosom with one hand and strum herself with other, crying soft and gentle pleasure as she kept her pussy over the steeping tea. Her exquisite nectar of corruption dripped and filtered into the hot water, ready to taint the unknowing and the innocent.
Mother Vera didn’t stand a chance.
The wise woman now looked like a blooming maid, fresh into her twenties. Her breasts had doubled in size and stretched her tight fabrics to the limit as well as the bounds of good taste. “Oh… you got me…” she moaned, whether in celebration or sorrow, the prince could not tell. Her eyes rolled back into her head while a series of feminine gasps exploded out from her ripening lips, as moist as a spring rose.
Morvith stood up and saw there was now a tight chasm of ample cleavage below her neck, covered up by a sheen of white gossamer wraps that obscured nothing when the woman was old and without curves. “I never miss, fair lady.” He noticed a golden cross hugged in between her creamy, round globes and ripped it off her neck as well as the gossamer wrap, leaving her deepening cleavage on the verge of pouring out.
With her talisman torn away, her last defense against taint and corruption crumbled and the evil that had taken root in her bosom bloomed like twisted branches around a sacred tree. Her back stiffened into an arch and her moans were deafening as overwhelming pleasure ripped through her once virtuous soul. Violent orgasmic convulsions overtook her while her heavy and lush tits trembled and wobbled to her dark ecstasy.
As Morvith walked away from the wanton and carnal place the kitchen had become, he beamed wickedly and incinerated Vera’s talisman between his fingers in an ember of violet flame.
The faith of His Holiness was no more.
Bovo scrambled up to his master, looking like a starving, peach colored goblin. “Maaaster! While you were gone there were three tavern disturbances, unexpected collateral of thirty souls, forty one rap- I’m sorry- surprise ravishments-”
Melehan raised his hand. “You forget! I’m not Morvith, spare me of these evasive words and give me the truth! Or did you think me my brother?”
“Of course not si-”
“Oh your lies are too horrid you potato faced wastrel!” At once the deformed and faithful servant lost his head. Melehan greeted Josie with a kiss upon her soft and rising cleavage. “Serves him right. If my brother didn’t want him dead he wouldn’t have sent him to me.”
Josie moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yes my lord, your malevolence is as terrible as your lusts are unquenchable!”
Melehan groaned and pushed her away. “Spare me the bootlicking you hollow little strumpet. I need you to be sharp, in three days time the new Elf ranger will come to visit. Be ready and have some ideas for plotting trade caravans and outposts.”
“The Elves are back!?” she said with unrestrained excitement, her now depraved mind thinking of what delicious malice she could work on so noble a creature.
“Just the one. And she’s already sworn to the Queen so I expect nothing… out of hand.”
Hope of great depravity against the Elf died as hopes of great lechery with the Elf rose in equal measure. If the prince had made the creature anything like herself, Josie imagined a great friendship in the making. The last Melehan heard from his bright eyed, bosomy trophy as he mounted his horse was “Don’t forget to visit!”
Melehan called out to her as his Black Moon witches, warlocks and mercenaries fell in line. “An occasion mourned by many, enjoyed by few! Perhaps, Josie, perhaps!”
And so this tale ends where their quests began. At a crossroads. The two brothers met again with their retinues in tow, their quests fulfilled.
Morvith walked with a caravan of curvaceous harlots in tow, Melehan with his troop of witches and warlocks. “Oh, what’s this brother? Leaving with less men than you set out with?” said Morvith, eying the bruised and haggard of Melehan’s ranks. “The peasant’s fork too much, mayhap?”
“We have reserves.” Melehan snapped and whipped his snorting horse forward. Both brothers eyed each other with suspicion and murderous rivalry. “Not all of us are so lucky to have cozy quests, wooing unwanted and failed maidens and their dried up mother hen. Orcs are not defeated by words of temptation and meaningful stares.”
“I’m sure you’d be hard pressed to find a dry spot on any of them now. Isn’t that right ladies?” The train of voluptuous nuns curtsied and cooed, shaking their buxom chests at Melehan’s men. “But what, pray tell, happened to my beloved Bovo?”
“The scabby lout didn’t survive his incompetence.”
From the single path that forked into two, rode a galloping horsemen, bearing a banner of violet embroidered with the the black crescent of the Black Moon. A knight of the Queen. “My lords!” he called and the two brothers turned. “My lords, there was an attack on the Queen!”
“Did she die?” both brothers asked with rapid eagerness.
The man showed no sign of being taken aback. “Oh-No, my lords, she lived! The rebellion was cut off at its head, their men dead or at our side and their leader cold in the ground. She requests your presences for celebrations.”
“Wonderful.” Melehan deadpanned.
Morvith and his horse cantered forward. “Well let’s to it then. Seems only a week ago we celebrated our dear Queen’s glories…”
“That’s because it was a week ago.” grumbled Melehan. “Let’s get this over with.”
The two brother’s caravans converged and lead by the messenger made their way to the capitol, yet again overshadowed by their mother’s triumphs.
But it would not always be so…