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Introduction:

I sometimes worry that I'm writing sex scenes because I feel like there needs to be one. I try to interlace them with the plot, but at some point, the characters have to stop fucking, right?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

BROCK

“Please!” The elf scout screamed.

“I don’t understand why you’re complaining,” I said as I loaded him into the trebuchet, “I’m returning you to your army.”

“Hold on to this tightly, Imperial, and don’t release it too soon.” Trenok grunted, tying the parachute straps to the terrified man’s wrists.

“It won’t work!” He cried.

I knelt to his level, and put a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “Progress is made by silencing doubters, little imperial. All great scientists of our time were once called lunatics for their ideas.”

“Great scientists?” Trenok laughed, “What calculations did you make?”

“You don’t need any of that math bullshit if you just believe in yourself.”

“Inspirational. Will they carve that quote into the atrium of the library they name after you?”

“Being a smartass just means you have shit for brains, Trenok.” I grunted, and began cranking back the lever.

The elf scout closed his eyes tightly, and began to pray.

“God won’t help you, son.” I said, eyeballing the trajectory with my thumb, “We’re in a new age of enlightenment. Put your faith in physics, because air resistance is your only savior now. Ready?”

And before he could answer, I stepped on the release, and his scream whistled out of earshot as he flew through the air. He became little more than a dot in the sky, then his parachute opened, and he splattered against the cliffside.

“Damn,” I grumbled as the lifeless figure tumbled to the earth, “I really thought it would work.”

“Wait, you did?”

“That was just the first experiment.” I worked my jaw contemplatively, “Maybe he was too light. If we tie three elves together, that would be about the weight of one orc, right?”

“The queen could just lift an orc up there with her mind.”

“As powerful as she is, her capacity is still limited. Besides, we can’t be reliant on magic to solve all our problems.” I cranked back the trebuchet carriage, and the ogre behind us loaded a boulder into it. I kicked the release, and the great engine flung the boulder end-over-end across the field, over the rift, and smashed into a ballista atop Mid Fort. There was a boom, an explosion of wood and metal, and the flailing bodies of imperials cascading from the top. A cheer arose from our ranks, and the line of siege engines released their salvo all at once.

Scores of boulders and flaming missiles arced through the air. Some exploded against the cliffside, some sailed clean over the top, but a few met their mark, smashing into the walls and battlements of Mid Fort, sending debris into the air. No more than a minute later, the Highlanders answered. Great rocks and ballista spears rose from the top of the cliff, then suspended in the air for a moment before hurtling down. I braced myself against the trebuchet, and gritted my teeth, waiting, waiting, waiting. Then, there was thunder on earth. The trebuchet beside me exploded backward, the great beams tossed into the air like discarded driftwood, toppling with the broken bodies of ogres and orcs. A boulder smashed into the space next to me, the impact hurling me to my back, leaving a crater five-feet deep in the permafrost of the tundra. At the bottom of it, the red goo of what had been my loading ogre was splattered all over the crater walls.

The ground shook with impacts for ten more seconds, then all was silent. I glanced over at Trenok, who was standing nonchalantly beside the hole where our ogre had been.

“Do you think that’s enough for this morning?” I asked him.

“I’m done if you are.”

“Let’s see what the old man thinks.” I reached to my side, and pulled out Yavara’s mirror. I tapped it once, and Field Marshal Shordian’s face appeared.

“Brock, you’re still alive.” He grumbled, looking disappointed.

“Did you enjoy the wakeup call, Field Marshal? Or did you not have your hearing-aids in?”

“I pass kidney stones bigger than the rocks you’re throwing at me.”

Trenok laughed at that. “Why can’t all Highlanders be like you, Shordian? The ones we get are always pissing themselves.”

“They’re also not very aerodynamic.” I chuckled.

Shordian grunted. It might’ve been a laugh. “Where’s your queen? She’s usually there to play catch.”

“Your engineers are so bad at ranging your weapons that she decided her talents were better used elsewhere.”

His lip curled. “Well then, I think today’s a good day for a prisoner exchange.” He walked over to a catapult, and turned the mirror. Jefrok was bound to a boulder, looking as terrified as the elf I’d launched. Shordian kicked the release, and the catapult swung. I looked away from the mirror to see a rock launched from Mid Fort, slow to the precipice of its arc overhead, then plummet. I heard his scream before he smashed into the marshlands behind us.

“Huh,” Shordian grunted, “I guess you fuckers can’t fly either.”

I tapped the glass, and looked up at Trenok. We both knew Shordian was goading us into expending our ammunition. We also didn’t care. I ordered all engines to load up, and we rained down on Mid Fort until the sun reached its peak.

YAVARA

It would take another week at least for the construction crews to finish the mirror relay from Ardeni to Alkandra, but the relay between the rift and Alkandra was almost done. It surprised me that Alkandi had never deigned to setup communications between Bentius and Alkandra. The structure was already there from the time of Highland imperialism; all that needed to be replaced were the mirrors themselves. I floated above the marshlands, and carefully positioned the circular glass in its apparatus atop the ancient stone tower. The mirror clicked into place, and I rotated it until I saw the distant glint of its reflection five miles away from the other tower. I drew a sigil on the glass, then palmed it. Brock’s face came through.

“My queen?” He asked.

“I’m just testing the relay. How’s everything going?”

“We hit Mid Fort with an extended barrage today, managed to knock down a quarter of its outer wall. Twenty-three units summited the rift, taking thirteen-hundred casualties and dealing around half that. We captured some scouts and interrogated them. They had no useful information, so we sent them back to their camp.”

“You should have two-thousand reinforcements coming by tomorrow. How are the Ardeni orcs managing?”

“They’re very good at dying, and since this is war, I guess there’s something to be said for that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Carry on, Brock.” And I palmed the glass. I drew another sigil on it, and waited. After nearly twenty minutes, the glass finally illuminated, and a very confused and disheveled Adrianna appeared.

“My queen?” She asked. The room she was in had no windows, only the flickering torchlight illuminating her face. Though her cheeks were flushed, she looked paler than usual.

“Bad hangover?” I giggled.

“No, I’m just… just making sure Titus’s clan feels… at home.” Her voice was slow, each word seeming to come from her in a drunken purr. She tilted her head, her platinum hair cascading luxuriantly, and upon her elegant throat, I saw two small puncture wounds appear. She groaned as a mouth-sized suction spot formed around the points, and when she leaned back, I saw that her ample breasts were deformed as though being gripped by large invisible hands.

“She’s been very amenable.” Titus’s amused voice sounded, “I can’t remember having a more gracious host.”

Adrianna’s eyes rolled back, and her head fell upon an invisible shoulder. She was reclined gently upon the body she rested upon, and I was given a front-row seat to what was being done to her. Her little pink pussy was stretched wide by nothing at all, the ruby flesh within contorted like a tunnel all the way to her womb. I could see the thrusts being dealt to her by the way her reamed labia moved back and forth, and the way her cervix was methodically pushed inward. Then there was an indentation of hands on her supple thighs, and I saw by the angle of their thumbs that a man had just moved in front of the glass. Titus’s invisible cock was slowly pulled out of Adrianna’s pussy, and the female hole relaxed exhaustedly, the ruined petals closing partially. I saw the press of his cock move down her moist bonze taint, push against her pink coiled anus, and open it. A new tunnel formed in her pelvic floor, her rectum opening until the rim was white, her decadent smooth channel violated to the colon. The man in front opened the slit Titus had left vacant, and soon, both of Adrianna’s holes were stretched to the bottom. Adrianna sounded a hoarse cry, her thighs quivering with spasms, her ruby tunnels clenching in delight around thick invisible shafts. Needless to say, I was furiously masturbating.

Someone picked up the mirror, and showed me the full extent of the debauchery. Seeing through glass rendered the vampires invisible to me, but I could discern their outlines by the positions of the hybrids’ naked bodies. Furia was floating in the air, her anus and pussy stretched open, her mouth sucking hedonistically upon an invisible man, her breasts deformed by nursing lips, her cock spewing thick globs of semen down a translucent woman’s throat. Eva was riding someone’s face, her thick ass spread wide to accommodate another mouth upon her dirty hole, her cock turned white with pressure from where it was inside someone. She had a grip of invisible hair, and was driving her tongue into the vampire’s mouth as she choked her (or him) with her other hand. Poor Soraya and Alexa were bound in ropes and leather, screaming around gag-balls as they were violated in every hole. By the shapes of their ruined entrances, I could see they were bearing more than one man in each. Their bodies were pocked with twin puncture wounds, and they were displayed upon the table like meals free to be taken by all. Even Alexa’s small rigid cock had been fed from. Brianna was sharing mouths with Kiera as they rode their steeds, their pelvises grinding down, their backs arched to accommodate the men doing damage to their rear channels. Kiera pet an invisible head in front of her, and spit ran down her cock as its flesh was indented with suction. Faltia was hung by the arms from the ceiling, her legs spread in lateral splits, her back curved painfully in pleasure. Her ass jiggled, then her thighs, and I could discern from the way her body rocked in the air that many men were taking their turns with her.

It was like a scene from my own imagination. There they were, the children of my flesh, dancing their primal dance with seemingly no one at all. It was my vision for them, and it had come to pass. They were like me in every way, their minds corrupted like mine, their bodies warped like mine, their souls tainted just like mine. I wished I was there. I wished I could forget about the war, fly over to Alkandra, and be who I was supposed to be. In that moment, all I could do was push my fingers deeper, invading my ass and pussy, my thumb writhing against my clit as my eyes flitted from person to person. The orgasm came, and my mind let go of its aerial footing. I fell against the mirror with a cry, the apparatus swiveled on its gyroscopic base, and the feed was cut. I only saw my own reflection as I panted with ecstasy, fogging the glass with my expirations. When my breath eased, I pulled myself off the glass, and floated away from the tower. Yes, the scene had looked like heaven to me, but it was missing one person.

ELENA

My sites were set on Lord Sherman Huntiata. He had been Ternias’s man before the battle, but as far as I could tell, that was only because Ternias helped fill his coffers. If Ternias’s planned overthrow of the crown didn’t go well in the court, Huntiata would ensure that the coup would succeed. Now Huntiata had lost his city watch to a strike, and so Ternias had lost Huntiata. If Leveria had the power she’d had before, the loss would’ve been a literal deathblow to Ternias, but Leveria couldn’t afford attacking a major noble when her position was so weak. That made the lord the most prized whore in the court, and he was expensive.

“One million gold pieces.” He said.

I took a long drag from my pipe. “One million.” I echoed.

“The cost of my men’s wages for a year, plus a bonus to ensure their loyalty.” He sneered, “Plus a bonus to ensure mine.”

I sat back in my chair. “How much did Lord Ternias offer you?”

“A paltry hundred-thousand. If that’s all King Dreus is willing to give, then I do believe he’s lost faith in Lord Lucas Ternias.”

“It’s more likely that he can’t smuggle that kind of money through the Midlands anymore. I was told several caravans headed toward Castle Thorum were sequestered by Alkandran patrols.”

“I am aware.” Huntiata studied me carefully.

“My lord?” I asked.

“When Lady Droughtius approached me about you, I only had two questions for her: are you discrete, and what can you give me? I require discretion, because I can never be seen consorting with someone like you.”

“A dark-blooded elf.”

“Yes.”

“And as to what I can give you?”

“The Lady Droughtius told me you have extensive contacts in Alkandra. How much money do you think goes through the city of beasts every day?”

“Tens of thousands?”

“My estimators believe it to be in the millions. The city attracts trade ships from the Lowlands, Bearded Peaks, Winter Isles, Hektinar, Terondia, and Drastinar.”

I leaned forward. “The Dark Queen may be willing to fund you, my lord, but the payment would only come after the war is over.”

“After the war is over, the Dark Queen will be crucified in the city square.” Huntiata growled, “I’m no traitor, Ambassador, and you should remember that. I’ll vote for an armistice, but this war will never be over until the whore is dead!”

“Of course,” I smiled, “but there’s no harm in taking a whore’s money, is there?”

His expression softened. “No, of course not. Money is money.” He twiddled his mustache, “But I need the money now. I can’t wait until an armistice is signed. It could be years.”

“Unless we sign an armistice now. We avoid the impending resource disaster and can prepare for another assault on Alkandra after the foolish Dark Queen has squandered all the advantages afforded to her.”

“Aye,” Huntiata muttered, “but it’ll be a hard pill for many of the watch’s officers to swallow if I sign an armistice before they’re paid. It’ll make me look weak, and these are good boys, Lady Straltaira, patriots to the bone. You’ve got to understand the optics.”

I took another pull from my pipe, running through my dwindling options. “I will see what I can do with my contacts in Alkandra,” I finally said.

“I will await your word.” He said, standing smartly and walking toward the door.

“Is that all?” I asked him.

“Is there something else?” He asked in kind, donning a scarf and hat.

I set the pipe on the table, and languorously rose from the chair. Huntiata watched me with a perplexed expression as I sauntered over to him, my wide hips dancing in my tight-fitting cocktail dress. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the way I do business,” I said sultrily, gently grasping his scarf, “most people end a deal in a handshake, but I’m a bit… unorthodox.”

Huntiata looked from my hand, to me. I smiled, and slowly began pulling his scarf off. Then his hand was on my face, and the back of my head was driven into the wall, and before I knew it, his fingers were around my throat, his snarling mask inches away, his stinking breath filling my nostrils.

“You think I’m some ditzy faggot-boy looking for a little prick?” He growled, squeezing so hard that my face was purple, and my eyes were watering. “You think I would ever touch you?! You dark-skinned faggot bitch, you fucking whore freak! How dare you lay a hand on me!” He spat in my face, splattering my eyes, cheeks and lips with tobacco-browned spittle. He sneered at me, “You’re disgusting, subhuman trash, the spawn of some festered demon cunt not even fit to roll in my shit!”

He was strong for an older man, his iron grip stealing my breath, closing my windpipe until I couldn’t even squeak. My cock was hard as a rock, and my pussy was flowing with readiness. His shoved his other hand roughly up my skirt, and grabbed my member, squeezing until the tears were rushing from my eyes. It was agonizing, it was humiliating, and it was so great that I came right there, bursting through my constricted cock-pipe to unload in his hand. He ripped his hand back, and stared disgustedly at the dripping webbing I’d left between his fingers. He roared, then palmed my face again, smearing my spunk across my nose and mouth, getting it into my hair. Through the tortuous squeeze of my throat, I managed to moan. His face contorted in rage. He released my throat, balled his hands in my hair, and shoved me to my knees. I didn’t need further instruction. I pulled down his pants, and he drove his thick meat into my mouth.

He was brutal with me. He smashed his crotch against my face, squishing my nose and lips against his pelvis, plunging his cock deep into my gullet. He ground the back of my head against the wall, holding himself inside me, staring down with eyes full of contempt. Then he began to thrust, pumping between the tight suction of my lips, piercing my throat over and over until I was glugging around him, vulgar slurps emanating from my mouth, gags roiling from my violated neck.

“Filthy fucking dark-skinned slut!” He growled, my cum stringing from my face and his crotch, my beautiful portrait desecrated, made ugly for his desire. I grabbed him by the ass, and he yanked back on my hair, and slapped me hard across the face. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” He roared, and I desperately drove my hands between my legs, stroking my cock violently, finger-fucking my leaking cunt so that its wet squelching sounded in time with the moist contractions of my lips and throat. He pinched my nose, making it impossible for me to breathe, and the only way I’d get out of it, was to make him come.

I sucked with animalistic voracity, consuming him as he performed his abhorrent delights, coiling my neck around his plunging organ as it stretched my gullet. His face became red, his teeth bared. My gurgling screams rose in tandem with his escalating grunts and growls, and my voice sounded high and true when he ripped his cock out, and doused my face with his cum. I came a second time, my entire body shaking with the violence of it, my office carpet soaking between my legs as both my sexual organs released at once. He emptied the last of his juice into my open mouth, then slapped me again. I fell to the floor, my face so covered that it splattered when my cheek struck the carpet. Even as the stings of his abuse burned on me, the burning in my nethers rose, and I grinded my thighs together, moaning for more.

“Pathetic.” He sneered, and spit on me.

“Will I see you again, my lord?” I panted with a smile.

“At the Noble Court, Ambassador.” He snarled.

I grinned at him. “You know what I meant.”

He shoved his cock into his pants, and took his coat from the rack. “Same time tomorrow.” He grumbled, and walked out the door.

I peeled myself off the carpet, sighing contentedly with my new mask of spunk plastered to my face. I went to the window, and watched Huntiata greet his guards outside, and walk down the street. I knew he’d look back. He did, and he saw me, and I smiled and waved. He didn’t acknowledge me, but he walked with an extra spring in his step down the boulevard. I sighed, and rested in the loveseat at the alcove. Not since Brock, had a man treated me like that. I’d nearly forgotten how much I enjoyed it.

“You got him now, Elena.” I said to myself, “Hook, line, and sinker. He’s never had anything like you.” I ran my finger along my cheek, took a dollop of mixed frosting, and enjoyed the taste of victory with a smack of my lips.

LEVERIA

“…we’re sorry, Your Highness, but the emperor will not trade on credit.” The liaison from Terondia said on my mirror. He was a strange breed of elf, with golden skin, auburn hair and amber eyes. The elven empire that resided on the continent of Balamora was ancient, and the bloodlines had been warped over the millennia.

“And why not?” I asked, “The Highland Kingdom has always paid its debts.”

“It takes us a full year to do a round-trip voyage.” The liaison smiled pitiably, “We do not know if there will even be a Highland Kingdom when we come back.”

I disguised a grimace as a smile. “There will be one if you help us now.”

He shook his head. “I am sorry, You Highness, but I must return to my emperor with goods, not with promises.” And he palmed the mirror. I sat back in my chair, grabbed a cushion, and screamed into it. The dwarven princedoms and the human kingdoms of Balamora had all given me the same answer, and the ships that were bound for the Highlands had decided to brave the southern coast instead, and go to Ardeni and Alkandra. There would be no more ships. The winter storms would ravage the seas, and it would take six months for intercontinental commerce to recommence. I collected myself, drew a sigil on the mirror, and palmed it.

“Your Highness.” Field Marshal Shordian said.

“Give me good news.”

He looked up at the sky. “The weather’s nice.”

“Peter…” I growled.

“That’s all I have to report on the ‘good news’ front. Now, do you want the bad news?”

I waved my hand.

“Supplies are dwindling, engines are falling into disrepair, and morale is low. The enemy summits the rift along dozens of sectors a day, and they don’t take prisoners. Reinforcements arrive slower with the rising number of breaches, sometimes getting there thirty minutes afterward. It won’t be long before the enemy can establish themselves in one of the sectors and begin funneling troops over the wall.”



I rubbed my temples. “But at least the weather’s nice, huh?”

“I was being glib. It’s actually a bit cold.” Shordian regarded the landscape, “Winter will soon be upon us, my queen, and this army was equipped to be a fast-strike unit. We are ill-supplied for an extended entrenchment. We need furs, and food.”

I didn’t answer right away. It was harvest season in the Highlands, and the crops were bountiful as they always were. The only problem was that there was no one there to harvest them. Tens of thousands of farmers lined the Highland Rift, holding swords instead of plowshares. I’d gambled that we would crush Yavara a month before the harvest season, and I’d lost.

“Furs and food,” I said, “you will have them, Field Marshal.”

He nodded solemnly, and palmed the mirror. I was sure it was hell on the Highland Rift, but in that moment, it was obvious that Shordian was glad he was there, and not in my seat. Condemning the populace to starvation so that we could feed the army was a decision I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to make, but there was no doubt about who I would choose if the choice came. Still, the choice itself was a failure. I felt like a bird with its flight feathers plucked, squawking manically before an amused cat. What dance would I do next? What jest would keep me alive for a few more precious seconds?

I took two quick breaths through my nose, and drew another sigil on the mirror.

“Lord Davin.” I smiled to the dwarven emissary, “Do you have a moment?”

“The deal hasn’t changed, Your Highness. We don’t take credit; we take gold.”

“I’ll give you the Ternianas province!”

He raised his brows. “And Lord Ternias promised me the Tiadoanas province, which is much more valuable, but I’m not taking land that might belong to the Dark Queen in a matter of weeks.”

“She won’t invade!”

“That’s not what you said when you were trying to justify your invasion to me.”

“Her ambassador assures me that she’s had a change of heart.”

“If you believed that, then I might.”

“Lord Davin, please.”

The emissary stroked his large red beard. “Our caravans have had to go through the Willows to get goods from the Lowlands and Alkandra. We lose a third of our imports before they even get to the mountain pass. Remove your blockade at the South Trade Fort, and I will consider negotiating a short-term deal.”

“That blockade is my only leverage, Lord Davin. If you want it removed, then you will honor my first deal.”

“Our people need to eat too, Your Highness. The mountains don’t lend much room for pasture, and so every morsel is accounted for before the winter snows close us in. Should our children starve so that yours can have full bellies?”

“Send your farmers down here then! We have millions of acres!”

He shook his head. “We do not have enough time. The passes will close. I am sorry, Your Highness, but there is nothing we can do here. Lift the blockade, and we will give you the coin you need to trade metal for meals with the Lowlands.”

“I can’t trade with the Lowlands, you dumb fucking midget! There’s a hostile country between me and them, and their ships don’t go around the southern coast!”

Davin blinked. “Your Highness, how can you—”

I slammed my palm on the mirror, and screamed. The door burst open, and Sir Raftas rushed in.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” I bellowed, and he rushed out just as quickly. I was nearly to the point of tears when I noticed something on my mirror. There was a small sigil at the very bottom, a shape I hadn’t seen for a long time. I drew it on my mirror.

ADRIANNA

I had just gotten out of the bath when the red light on my mirror illuminated. I stumbled over to it, each footfall threatening to turn into a pirouette. The vampires drank copious amounts of wine, and my stupid pride had made me try to keep up with them. At a certain level of intoxication, I ceased to be a responsible adult, and instead became a toddler in the body of a full-grown woman. It was why my lips never touched liquor when I was a commander at Castle Thorum, but being governess of Alkandra practically made drinking part of my job. I giggled like an idiot to myself as I procured a bottle of ink, drew two eyes on either side of my bald pussy, and squatted over the mirror. I palmed the glass, spread my pussy lips, and, mimicking the voice I associated with my anthropomorphized vagina, I squeaked, “How can I help you, Your Highness?”

“Um… Commander?”

I slowly sat back. In my drunkenness, I hadn’t noticed that were a score of sigils around the edge of the mirror, and most of them came from Bentius. Yavara had connected our relay to the Highland’s, and calling from the heart of Bentius, was Private Elena Straltaira. “Hey there, Tiger.” I said.

“You uh… you expecting a call from Yavara?”

“Yep.”

“And uh… that’s how you were gonna answer her?”

“Yep.”

She nodded. “Well… nice pussy.”

“Thanks.”

She cleared her throat, and rubbed at her neck. “You got some tattoos, huh?”

“Yep.”

She forced a laugh. “Of all the people in the world...”

“The others have more than me. Furia has a face tattoo if you can believe that.”

“Furia Augustinia? She was more of an introvert than me!”

“Not anymore.” I chuckled, “She even has a dick tattoo.”

Elena winced. “Ow!”

“Yeah, and there was a lot of skin to cover.”

She raised her brows. “Good for her.”

“Good for me.” I snickered.

Elena smirked. “I thought the lady between your legs had loose lips. Furia’s doing?”

“More like everyone’s doing.” I laughed, lounging on the bed, “Governments all over the world fuck their people, but here in Alkandra, we do things differently. I’m sure Yavara told you about Trenok.”

“I thought Yavara was exaggerating when she told me about you.” She gave me an appraising look, “I guess she was underselling you somewhat. What do your tattoos mean?”

“The pot leaf is for Kiera, the shackles are for Soraya, the whip is for Eva, the hammer is for Alexa, the smiley face is for Brianna, the sword is for Faltia, the heart is for Furia—yes, I know, it’s basic as hell—and the tiger is… well, that’s for you, Tiger. I got a few others, but you don’t need to hear all those stories.”

“You got one for me?”

“One for every hybrid.” I shifted uncomfortably, “We’re like a family over here, and I figured you’d join us eventually. You were the first of us, after all.”

“You told me we were a family back at Castle Thorum. Very first day of ranger school.”

“I guess we’ve had our ups and downs since then.”

“Ups and downs.” She said flatly.

“Every family has ups and downs.”

She just laughed to herself.

“Why did you call?” I asked.

“No reason. Just curious, I guess. Goodbye, Adrianna.”

“You can trust me.” I said quickly.

Her hand paused over the mirror. “You’re Governess Adrianna now. I need Commander Adarian.”

“I didn’t tell Yavara about you and Leveria. I trusted you to be able to keep the full truth of it secret.”

“To save your own ass.”

“To save my country!” I snapped, “If Yavara knew you loved her sister, wouldn’t she do everything in her power to hurt her?”

“Yavara isn’t like that.”

“You know better.”

Elena took two breaths through her nose, then eased them out. “I’m doing everything I can to get the nobles to vote for peace, but you know them; they’d sell their own children for better quarterly gains. There’s no capital to be raised in the Highlands, our international ports are empty, the Beaded Peaks won’t capitulate, and the Lowlands can’t trade through the Midlands. That leaves only one option.”

“How much do you need?”

She took a deep breath, then said, “A million.”

“Ok.”

She looked at me incredulously. “Just… ‘Ok?’”

“It’ll take Soraya a fortnight to sequester that much; most of our treasury goes to the war effort, but we can slow some domestic projects and skim off the top. Getting it to you will be another issue entirely. Arbor will be curious if a caravan is sent through her forest from Alkandra to Castle Thorum, and she’s not your slave anymore. Not to mention Zander’s spies.”

“It can’t be through Castle Thorum. Ternias made sure one of his regiments secured it so that he could funnel money in from Ardeni.”

“South Trade Fort?”

“Leveria has it blockaded.”

“Try convincing her to un-blockade it.”

“What, with my dick? It’s her only leverage against the dwarves.”

I pinched my brow, trying to think through my drunkenness. If there was a person alive who knew the Great Forest as well as Arbor, it was me. There was a thousand years of inherited knowledge in my head, learned from countless hours of pouring over ancient maps, scouting notes and surveyor logs. I wracked my mind, and found the answer. “The copper mines,” I said, “they tunnel for hundreds of miles. They even go beneath the Knife River, though it’s caved-in on the Highland side. You’ll have to get someone to clear that out.”

“The copper mines, as in the vampire-infested underbelly of the Great Forest?”

“Arbor can’t see it, and Zander’s spies sure as shit won’t be there.”

“I feel like that’s beside the point.”

“I just so happen to have a surplus of vampires here.”

“Titus would never in a million years betray Yavara for the Highlands.”

I touched the healed bite marks on my throat. “Who said anything about him?”

Elena opened her mouth as though to object, then closed it, and nodded. “I’ll tell Huntiata that his money’s on its way.” She said.

I snorted. “Look at us, rangers on a mission again.”

“Only this time we’re actually saving the Highlands instead of just pretending to.”

“Yeah…” I trailed off. Most of Adarian’s wounds had faded within Adrianna, but that was one of the few that was still open. “Well,” I said, “see you later, Tiger.”

“Goodbye, Commander.”

No sooner had my hand left the glass, then the red light illuminated once more, and another sigil flashed. This one was also from Bentius, and it was a symbol I recognized immediately. I stared at it for minutes, hoping it would go away, but it just stayed there. Somewhere, across forests, fields, hills, towns and cities, there was a woman with her finger on the glass, waiting for me to answer the call—no, expecting me to. It was my duty, after all, to answer that call. And it was that part of Adarian, that goddamn festered wound of misplaced honor and fealty that compelled my hand. I touched the glass. Her face came into view. She didn’t even flinch when she saw the woman staring back at her. She looked at me like she always had, and it felt like home. “Thomas Adarian,” she said, “your country needs you.”

LEVERIA

It had taken all my emotive skills not to let my jaw drop when I first saw her. The angle of her nose, the line of her jaw, the particular hue and shape of her blue eyes all bespoke Thomas Adarian, but the naked beauty watching me through the glass was something far greater than the ranger she had been. Like Elena, a great intelligence played behind her eyes, a gorgeous expressiveness moved across her face, and the motions of her body were unconsciously fluid, a grace that could not be taught. I had thought that Elena was special, and indeed, she was, but she was no longer unique. When I looked at the woman who had been Thomas Adarian, it occurred to me that I was staring at evolution, and it terrified me.

“I’m in my country.” She said after some time.

“I never discharged you, Ranger.”

“Ranger?” She laughed easily, and my eyes were drawn to the way her elegant throat contracted with her mirth. There were bite marks there, each surrounded by suction prints. When I looked closer, I saw that they were everywhere; her nipples, her belly, her wrists, her thighs. She caught my eyes, and a knowing glint shone in hers.

“Vampires,” she smiled with impossibly-lush lips, “a ranger’s greatest fear; now my pleasure.” She lounged in her bed, displaying her tattooed flesh without shame, “There is no ranger here, Leveria.”

“You will call me by my title!” I snapped at her.

She giggled, licked her fingers, and languorously drew her hand between her breasts, down her belly, through her trimmed blonde fur, and between her legs. She sighed as she penetrated herself, and her almond-shaped eyes lidded heavily with lazy lust. “In case you’re not getting the message,” she moaned, “I’m telling you to go fuck yourself.”

I could feel my face burning, and I could tell by the smirk on Adrianna’s face that it satisfied her in more ways than one. She curled her fingers inside herself, and spread her thick bronze legs to show me the film of lust that coated her sucking netherlips. “If you could hold that facial expression for a little longer…” she groaned, “…that would be… oh… that would be fantastic.”

My face burned even hotter.

“That’s it!” She hissed around a lip-biting smile, “That’s the look I need to see from you. Just… hold it a little… longer…” Her adventurous right hand appeared between her legs from behind her, and extended two exploratory fingers that snaked through her delicious crack, and penetrated her pink anus. She rested her head on the pillow, and moaned splendidly as each knuckle disappeared into her gripping aperture, and began to twist.

My face felt like it was on fire. With a hand shaking in fury, I splayed my fingers to palm the glass. I stopped myself. I took two deep breaths, and let them out through my nose. Then I sat back in the chair, hoisted up my dress, and pulled the skirt up to my belly. Adrianna’s eyes widened a fraction. I hooked my thumbs into my panties, and scooched the fabric from my crotch, down my legs, and off my ankles. Her eyes widened more. I planted my heels into the cushions, spread my alabaster legs wide open, and revealed the bejeweled plug I kept inside me. Adrianna’s eyes nearly bulged. Now it was my turn to smirk. I forked my pinky and forefinger about my bald slit to spread it, and plunged my middle and ring fingers inside. I moaned luxuriantly as my thumb played with my clit, and my other hand came around to grasp the bejeweled end of the plug, and slowly extract it. The anal suction pulled my rim from my pelvic floor until the plug finally popped free, then I pressed the smooth metal point back against my coiling aperture, and began to sodomize myself with it.

“I’m sorry for my lack of manners, Governess.” I grinned through breathy moans, “I should’ve known the proper customs for an Alkandran diplomatic meeting.”

The shock left her face, and was replaced with a sneer. “I see Elena’s rubbed off on you.”

“Many times!” I laughed through a gasp.

She tittered, her face falling back into an easy expression of lust, her fingers recommencing their filthy exploration. “I’ve had fantasies about you, you know.” She sighed splendidly, “When I was a man, I quite enjoyed the idea of bending you over your throne, stuffing your panties in your mouth, and fucking you into a coma.”

“Funny,” I groaned, “my fantasies about you were quite the same.”

“You fantasized about me?” She raised her blonde brows.

“Every noble girl in the court did!” I giggled, “The tall, brave, stoic Thomas Adarian. So chivalrous, so dignified. You’d bow before my throne like a proper knight, and eat my pussy like a gentleman.”

Her lips twisted. “So, not quite the same.”

“Oh, after a few flicks of the bean I’d get bored with that gay shit, and you’d grab me by the hair, drive me into the back of the throne and fuck me brainless.”

“What could have been.”

“I would’ve had you in chains if you’d taken one untoward step.”

“I like where this is going.” She chuckled, her eyes traversing me with an appraising gleam, “I always imagined you to be a skinny bitch under all that royal garb. It irritates me a little that you’re so fucking hot.”

“The feeling’s quite mutual.” I groaned, exploring myself to the sight of her.

She twisted her hips in pleasure, her athletic belly stretching to reveal its striations, her proud breasts protruding in defiance of gravity as she arched her back. Her toned legs bent to reveal the shadows of soft muscle, her wide hips angling to display the globular bulges of her perfect bronze ass. She flattered me with her words, but I could tell by her expression that my attractiveness was merely a surprise to her, and not a revelation. For Alkandra harbored beings of unparalleled beauty, and she was one of the foremost. Even now, she looked upon me like I was a lesser, a mere sexual curiosity that she would enjoy and then discard before seeking a more worthy partner. I knew then that I had to keep Elena away from that place, or I would lose her to it forever.

“Well, Leveria?” Adrianna growled splendidly, “Why did you interrupt my morning?”

“Your duty to the Highlands has not been fulfilled.”

“A ranger’s duty is fulfilled with his death. Thomas Adarian is dead.”

“Is he?” I queried behind a moan.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “What do you want?”

“To save the Highlands.”

“You’re the reason they need saving. Why should I listen to you?” She moaned, her legs slamming together as a spasm wracked her loins.

“Whatever Yavara promised you to keep you on her side was misguided foolishness on her part. You must know this war will not end well, or you would not still be talking to me.”

“Seeing the queen of the Highlands debase herself for my amusement isn’t reason enough to talk to you?”

“For your amusement?” I twisted the plug in my ass, greasing my sodomy with the fluid that leaked from my pleasured slit, “Like you, I am a patriot. I will do whatever it takes to save my people.”

“Then perhaps you should abdicate, and give yourself up to your sister.”

I groaned as my thumb turned my clit into a pulsating bead, each brush sending delightful tingles deep into my nethers. “If the Highlands bends even a fraction, it will never rise again. You know this. Long after I’m dead, you will watch the nation you were born to crumble. We stand at the fulcrum of history. There can be nothing less than victory.”

“There is no victory for you!” She growled, elevating her pelvis from the bed as she ascended from within.

“There can be, but I need you, Adrianna.” I hissed, the intense weakness of orgasm turning my insides to jelly, compelling my legs to flex as spasms coursed through me.

“What do you want?!” She cried, writhing in her ecstasy.

“To bring the Lowlands into the war!” I yelled with her, squirming in my chair, my hands becoming wet with my arousal.

“How?!”

“We must kill Prince Matthew Dreus!”

“WHAT?!” She screamed, and the orgasmic wave broke inside of her, turning her into a wriggling mess of shoulders and hips as her limbs closed in on herself, holding her inside and out through the torrent of sensation. I broke with her, my anus contracting around the metal plug twisting into its flesh, my pussy clamping down to consume my fingers, salivating upon my palm, drooling down my taint. We exalted in our mutual masturbation, staring at each other, pleasuring our eyes with the sight of the other’s compromised expressions and helpless reactions. When it was done, we were left panting heavily, our flesh glistening with the afterglow of lust.

“What did you say?” She hissed, wrath rising in her eyes.

“If it is done to seem like an Alkandran plot,” I said carefully, “King Dreus might not care for his second son, but he will be forced to act to save face. He will bring his navy to blockade the Alkandran bay, and force Yavara’s army from our border. Then I will offer her terms, and our nation will exit this war intact.”

“Fuck off.” She growled, reaching toward the mirror.

“Is one Lowlander’s life worth fifty-thousand Highlanders?” I snapped, “Because that is the lowest price the Highlands will pay for losing this war! I will not capitulate until every man atop the Rift is dead! Will you do whatever it takes, Thomas Adarian, or has Yavara raped the last of your honor away?”

Her hand stayed poised over the glass, then withdrew. Her eyes told me she hated me, but I saw in them, some of the old ranger commander. She stared at me for a long time, and I stared back, unflinching. She took two subtle breaths, and asked, “What must I do?”

ZANDER

The Highland Plains were beautiful in the fall. Unharvested wheat moved like granular waves across the rolling hills, catching the sun in a billion different specks. I was disguised as a middle-aged high-elf, my armor decorated resplendently, my horse of the greatest stock. My posture bespoke my conceit from a hundred yards away, and my wealth was displayed across my fingers and neck.

I was in the Feractianas province, about fifty miles south from the Highland Rift, and a hundred west from the Knife River. I’d flown in as a bird, and everything about me, from the horse to the armor, was but an illusionary spell. In truth, I’d sequestered a donkey from a nearby field, and were it not for the shielding spell, I would smell quite like cow shit. I came upon a quaint farming village, and rode into it. High-elves liked to think themselves racially superior, but poverty was the same for all people. The destitute farmers stared at me with grubby faces and slack jaws, their clothes more rags than garments, their tools more rust than metal. All the young men were gone, leaving only the women, elderly and young. I flashed a dazzling smile to some of the teenage maidens, and I saw their desire, and their fathers’ hatred.

I trotted to the town square, which was barely more than an old lumber yard, chopping blocks strewn all over the place to create makeshift benches and tables. I walked to the old shift bell, and rang it. “Taxes!” I called, “Taxes, taxes, taxes! Lord Feractian needs funds for the war effort, and the homeland must provide! Support our brave boys in gold as they fight for your lives!”

“Taxes?!” An old man screamed, hobbling out of his shop, “We already paid this month’s taxes!”

“Taxes will now be collected bimonthly.” I announced.

“What taxes?” Yelled a woman of younger years, “We have naught but the clothes on our backs!”

“Those who cannot pay their taxes will be imprisoned for tax-dodging. We have a duty to our country, and we must all pay our fair share.” I smiled, letting the rings on my fingers catch the sunlight.

The townsfolk had all come out of their houses and shops, and as the information was passed to the newcomers, a murmur of anger began to simmer from the crowd. One man stepped forward.

“How much do you need?” He asked.

“Three-hundred gold pieces.”

The murmur swelled, a few shouts and hisses mingling with it. The man spat on the ground before me. “One of those rings ought to be worth that. Why don’t you give us that emerald one on loan, and we’ll send it to Lord Feractian? I promise we’ll pay you back, mister.” He sneered, and the townsfolk laughed in concurrence.

“You want this ring?” I asked, pointing to it.

“Aye, that one!”

I dismounted from my horse, strutted to the spokesman, and backhanded him so hard that he spun in the air before he hit the ground. “There,” I said, and spat on him, “and don’t worry about the interest.”

“Bastard!” Another man screamed, and charged me.

“Daddy, no!” Screamed a girl. I waited until the man was a stride away before I cast my spell, and he stopped in midair. The crowd went suddenly silent, whispering only the frightened words, “mage” and “warlock.”



I examined the petrified man with an imperious smile. “Very amusing. Are you the town jester?”

“Bastard!” He snarled through gritted teeth.

“Oh, you’re not joking? That means you just assaulted a government official; the sentence for assaulting a government official is death.”

“NO!” Screamed the girl once more. She burst from the crowd, her platinum hair alight in the sun, her freckled pale complexion painted over a beautiful blue-eyed face and nubile body. I could tell by the way everyone looked at her that she was the pride of the village. Undoubtedly, she was brave and bold just like her father, and it hurt me to know what I was going to do to her.

“My, my, you’re a pretty thing.” I grinned broadly, “Like a flower grown from a dung pile. How did this backwoods shithole produce someone as fair as you?”

“Let him go!” She demanded, stomping her foot to punctuate the statement.

I sighed. “I would love to, truly I would, but the queen’s law is the queen’s law, and we all live under her benevolent rule. He must die, or there will be no justice.”

“Justice?!” She cried, “How is this justice?! We have nothing! Lord Feractian has already taken our brothers and sons, and all our gold too! All we have left is the harvest, and not enough hands to reap it!”

“You have nothing to pay me with?” I asked.

“Will you take the stones from our houses?! No, we have nothing left to pay you! We have nothing at all!”

There was a concurrent grumble from the populace. I examined them, watching as each averted their gaze from mine, but not her. “What’s your name, girl?” I asked.

“Esmerelda Giana.” She said with her chin held high.

“And what is your virgin price, Esmerelda?” I asked, my grin turning sardonic. A deathly silence fell upon the crowd. Esmerelda turned paler than she already was, her bottom lip trembling. I hated to see the gusto leave her. Such pride she’d had, so solid was her foundation, and yet the society she was born to had placed a fatal weakness in every unmarried woman.

“Do you not know?” I asked her, then turned to the man floating in the air, his face contorted in purple hatred. “What about you, good sir? You must know your daughter’s virgin price.”

“Kill me you fucker!” He bellowed.

“One-hundred.” Esmerelda said quietly.

“That’s all?” I mused, “In Bentius, your father could command twenty times that!” I walked to her until I stood only a foot away, then I put a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered, trying with all her might to maintain eye-contact, trying to quell the shaking of her balled fists, and the tremble of her lips.

“Is it a fair price?” She whispered, “For the debt my village owes? For my father’s life?”

“It is.” I said, and stroked her neck. She could not conceal her terror then, and I felt like every-bit the bastard I was. Maybe if she knew she was fighting a much greater battle, it would’ve been easier on her conscience, but she could not know the breadth of her sacrifice. I doubted she ever would.

“Then I will pay it.” She said so quietly that it was barely a whisper, but the village was so silent that all heard it.

My hand moved to the clasp of her dress, and hers shot out to meet it. “What are you doing?!” She hissed.

“Taking what I am owed, dear child.”

“NOW?!” Her eyes went wide.

I smiled, and touched her trembling lower lip with my thumb. “Now.” I said, and pulled her clasp loose.

Her dress cascaded from her body. She vainly tried to keep her modesty, but the shock of the moment fried her reactions, and she pawed frantically at cloth that was no longer there. It slid off her full pale breasts to reveal her ruby nipples, cascaded from her soft belly to expose her naval, clung to her wide hips for just a moment before slipping off, and displaying her thick succulent thighs, and the blonde fur between them. She crossed her legs over each other and her arms over her breasts, and spun frantically, the panic rising in her eyes. No one came to her aid. The ruddy faces of the townsfolk were filled with horror, sapped of wrath, broken of spirit.

“Save her, you cowards!” Esmerelda’s father roared.

“Dad,” Esmerelda whimpered, “don’t look!”

“Save her!” He wailed once more, tears coming from his eyes. I put a muting spell on him, and his anguished call was silenced.



I put my arms on Esmeralda’s bare shoulders, and massaged them with my thumbs. I pressed my front to her back, and she froze when she felt my cock pushing against her tailbone. “No one is going to save you, Esmerelda.” I whispered as she quivered in my hands, “They’re all just going to watch. Let’s give them a show, shall we?” I reached out with one hand, and a chopping block skidded across the lumber yard. I reached out with the other, and another block did the same. They rested four feet apart before us, each the same height. “Step up, Esmerelda.” I commanded softly.

“No.” She hissed, tears streaking down her face.

“Yes.” I chuckled, and cast another spell. Without her permission, Esmerelda’s legs moved, stepping upon one block, then the other. The blocks were too far apart for her to stand upright, and so she was forced into a wide stance. Still having autonomy over her arms, Esmerelda vainly tried to keep her modesty with one hand over her crotch, and her other arm crossing her breasts. It was an alluring pose, a celebration of virgin innocence and elven propriety, and so I let her strike it before her friends and family. Perhaps they would make a tapestry of it one day; ‘The Rape of Esmerelda.’ A fitting monument to the coming rebellion.

I cast a third spell. Rope suddenly lashed around each of Esmerelda’s ankles, then like striking serpents, the two pieces snapped upright to snag her wrists. The binds tightened, the slack shortened, and soon each wrist was bound to each ankle, forcing the virgin elf into a wide squat. Her bulbous cheeks were spread, her thick thighs were splayed, and when I moved behind her to push on her back, her torso was forced upright, displaying her ample breasts, and bringing her pelvis forward to reveal her tight pink slit.

“Much better.” I said from behind her, brushing her fine hair over her left ear. I cast a final spell, and a dog collar formed around her elegant neck, the leash in my hand. Though her cheeks were wet, and her body quivered, she kept her head held high, unyielding even now. I was proud of her in a way.

I turned to the horror-struck townsfolk, and sneered. “This is the price that must be paid, good people of Feractianas,” I said, “this is what your liege commands.”

I undid the front of my robe, and the townspeople gasped. I needed no illusions spell here. I pressed myself against her back, and she looked down to see what everyone else was gawking at. Her jaw clicked open. My organ pulsed between her legs, thick and long, red with pressure. The color drained from her face, and she swallowed, but she did not ask for mercy. I turned my eyes to her father, and studied the look of terrible resignation on his face.

“She is of excellent stock.” I said to him, “you should be proud to have built such a fine young bitch.” I angled my cock beneath her, “I thank you for raising her for me.”

The tip of my member pressed into the taut folds of Esmeralda’s pussy. Her breath caught. I rubbed my tip back and forth through her petals, slowly coercing her feminine moisture from her. She couldn’t help herself, and she gritted her teeth as though in combat with her body, but she was a woman, and she could not tame biology. For many girls, it was a great awakening to realize the wildness of their blossomed forms, but for poor Esmerelda, it was the deepest of betrayals.

“You’re getting wet,” I chuckled in her ear, “and everyone can see it.”

A tear of frustration pathed her beautiful freckled cheek. “You can take me,” she hissed, “but you cannot have me.”

“No?” I asked with a raised brow, and let go of her leash, “I will not force you, Esmerelda. You will defile yourself willingly.”

Of course, there was no choice to be had. In her squatting position atop the blocks, all she could do was vainly battle gravity. She fought valiantly. Her legs quivered, the muscles showing through the silken flesh, her entire body glistening with the strain of keeping her virtue for a few more precious seconds. I stayed behind her, holding her gently by the hips, not taking her, only rubbing my cock between her folds, encouraging the weakness of her pelvis, the feminine reflexes that would compel her to open herself both inside and out. She dripped down my shaft, her petals blushing, her slit becoming hotter. The onlookers watched; horrified, disgusted, enraptured. She growled and whined, beads of sweat running from her temples. I moved my throbbing tip in circles against her tight entrance, teasing it with what it wanted. Her thighs trembled, her entire back tensed, her hands balled into fists behind her ankles.

She dropped. Just an inch, but it was enough. My thick head entered her, and she cried out, barely catching herself. The crowd gasped. Though I was inside her, I had not yet broken her chastity, but I could feel the resistance. Esmerelda’s eyes were wide and trembling, her face struck with shock and revulsion, her entire being hinging on the sensation of the foreign invasion. Oh, she put on such a defiant mask, but she could not fight for long; not against the tandem of gravity and biology that beckoned her ever deeper. I stirred her entrance from the inside, playing with the receptive nerves there, compelling them to spread surrendering lassitude into the legs that branched her crotch. She thrashed and twisted, sputtered and snarled, and she descended another inch. She growled and howled, wrenched this way and that, and she descended yet another inch. She screamed and roared, tears pouring down her cheeks, and with a final wail, her legs failed her, and she impaled herself.

The town went silent. Only the sound of Esmerelda’s breathless gulps for air could be heard, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, her eyes bulging and unseeing. I broke the tenuous silence with a groan of pure bliss. Her hot channel clenched around my nine inches, the moist embrace coiling about my shaft, the netherlips turned inward and enveloping me. Droplets of blood dripped from the wet seal of our joining, and splashed onto the dirt beneath the bridge of her legs. She sank to the final depth, her knees nearly level with her chest, her tight pussy consuming me to my roiling balls. Then, she screamed. It was shrill and tormented, and beautiful. I pulled out, and a flow of crimson came out with me, running in thick rivulets down my shaft. I exited to the head, then drove all the way in. Her head flung back, her hair flailing in an arc, and she shrieked to the sky. I thrusted again, and again, and again. I burrowed into her soft innards, sucked into her squelching sheath, held in by her clinging virgin lips. I grunted and growled from behind her, my hands no longer resting decorously upon her hips, but seeking her breasts, squeezing them wantonly. Her ass pillowed against my crotch, jiggling with every brutal impact, the soft warmth cushioning my loins, molding against me.

“Scream for me, scream!” I snarled, and she did, over and over, higher and higher with each thrust. The horror and pain were alight in her bulging eyes, contorting her beautiful proud face, striating her neck with tension. And still, I plowed into her, driving until there was no strength left in her legs, and I had to designate one hand to hold her aloft by her supple flank. She rocked to and froe, a slave to my motions, helpless to do anything but wail to her audience, her father foremost among them, watching with traumatized eyes as I ruined his daughter.

“What a bitch!” I grinned at him, heaving into Esmeralda with a fury of blasts, my breath punctuated with the slaps of flesh on flesh, the tenor of our joining becoming wetter and wetter. I yanked forward on the leash, and forced Esmerelda’s head to bow, making her see what was being done to her. Then I yanked backward on the leash, and presented her face to her father, mine grinning wickedly over her shoulder.

“Look at your daddy,” I laughed in her ear, “doesn’t he look proud of his little girl?”

She blubbered something unintelligible to him, and he screamed something back behind the muting spell I’d put over his mouth. It didn’t matter what it was. I just laughed and growled, driving, driving, driving, into the virgin elf cunt displayed between the jiggling alabaster thighs, breaking through the last resistances of her chastity, hollowing her. Each thrust was met with a wet squeeze of her innards, a welcoming embrace, a seizure of agony, a lewd massage that rolled up my length until my tip punched into her cervix. Over and over, scream after scream, grunt after grunt. Then, she began to change. The last of her chastity left her, the pain of the girl receding from the hole of the woman. In and out, in and out. The brutal repetition of her penetration continued, but the resistance within was dissipating. Through agony and terror, I had molded her to my shape and size, to my speed and force, to my avarice and heinous perversion. She could not help what was going to happen to her. She could not stop it. It was the horrible truth of rape, the reason why it was so terrible. If she were an experienced lover, she might’ve had a shield to guard her pride, but there was no such shield for a broken virgin.

Her screams began to wane, the tension within her back began to ease, the palsying of her legs began to quell. She did not notice these things at first, for her mind only knew the relief of pain in that moment. She did not notice the way her insides wrapped lovingly about me, nor the way her ass sank lower to receive me, nor the way her spine curved like a feline’s against me, pushing her backside into my crotch. But everyone else saw it. The onlookers stared behind gawking mouths and disbelieving eyes as Esmerelda the pure, Esmerelda the brave, Esmerelda the virtuous and proud, uttered her first moan. It seeped from her lips like a croak, her voice rasp from the screams, but it slithered into the air with the unmistakable tenor of pleasure. I thrusted into her once more, and another moan came from her, this one steeped in even more splendor. It wasn’t until the third moan, that Esmerelda realized what had happened. She clamped her lips shut, her face turning red, her eyes brimming. Oh, those eyes. They’d been filled with such anguish before, but now they swam with confusion.

“You like being raped in front of everyone?” I growled into her ear, “You backcountry swine, you filthy sow.” I grabbed the top of her head, rested my middle finger upon her pointed freckled nose, and pushed it inward to resemble a snout, “Squeal for me, little piggy.” I glared at her horror-struck father, “Squeal for your daddy.”

Her face was a portrait of sexual humiliation, her tear-streaked blushing cheeks, collared throat and upturned snout completing the visage, and her bound and writhing body only worsened it. In her captive state, with her legs spread wide and her ass forced into a deep squat, there was nothing to protect her sanctum from the full brunt of my invasion, nothing to stay the nerves that delighted in fulfilling their purpose, nothing to prevent her womanly mouth from consuming me with gluttony and relish, tasting and savoring every inch I bored into her, celebrating every inch I stretched her. Nectar sapped from her hungry lips, dripping in gelatinous strings from her spread legs, moistening my cock, greasing her violation. Her lips trembled to keep shut, her face turning purple to resist, but the sensations within her were expanding from her crotch, to her belly, to her chest, and up her neck. With a whine of terrible defeat, her lush mouth opened, and she sounded out a cry of comingled despair and pleasure.

“Squeal for me, piggy!” I laughed, tugging on her leash, “Squeal like the sow you are!”

She squealed in ecstasy, her tear-filmed eyes full of surrender and joy, her lips curving in a gaping smile. Somewhere behind her lenses, she was screeching in horror, but that prideful elf was buried deep, cast away so that she could enjoy this revelation in full. I fucked her furiously, pounding into her so hard that she bounced off of my crotch, and she sang out in glee, her hips beginning to grind on their own accord so that she could savor the thick meat piercing her innards.

“Snort for me like a good little piggy.” I growled, my hand still on her head, my fingers creating a mask of her face with the middle digit upturning her snouted nose, her beautiful face made alluringly ugly. Perhaps she might’ve objected, perhaps she might’ve raged, but my other hand moved between her legs, raked through her fur, and pressed down on her clitoral hood. The little ruby organ protruded from its fleshy shell, and rubbed against the underside of my driving shaft.

She croaked in pleasure, her hips now dancing a womanly dance, fully participating in her own rape. Her smooth belly twisted and rolled with succulent creases of flesh and shadows of muscle, her breasts bobbed in jiggling cadence, her neck bowed so that her head could rest upon my shoulder, and she could stare up into my eyes. Oh, she hated me. I could see it plainly through the film of ecstasy and arousal, but that hateful beauty was trapped in her prison of pleasure, and through the filter of her abasement, she embraced the moment in the only way she could. With a face darkened in masochistic splendor, she snorted like a rutting a hog.

“Good piggy!” I laughed, and rubbed her clit hard against my slick shaft. She mewled and snorted in turn, her body squirming in a whorish dance of depravity, enthusiastically humiliating herself before her weeping father and the onlookers. I snaked my tongue from my mouth, and she grinned, and opened her lips to receive me. Somewhere, someone cried out in shock. It was not the first time she’d been kissed, for she angled her face with practiced ease, but never had she engaged in such a hedonistic consumption of tongues. I plunged my wriggling appendage into her mouth, and feasted upon her. She wilted into the kiss, closing her eyes to savor my domination of her, moaning muffled tones as I released her nose from its snouted state to grasp her breast. I squeezed the succulent mammary fat, toying with the pert nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she cooed in approval, sucking upon my lips with gratitude on her own. She stirred her ruined cunt around my shaft, her spinal undulations driving her pussy down as her hips rotated to stretch her innards, to feel me pulsating against every surface of her.

The contractions in her belly were becoming more intense, the spasms inside her becoming more ferocious. I took a grip of her hair and yanked her face away, and she cried out in delight of the violence, her teeth bared in a combative grimace, her eyes alight with the animalism of her rape. She growled and snarled, heaving in deep undulations against my pumping cock, splaying her flushed petals, outturning her folds, releasing thick ropes of viscous nectar that dangled from her abused flower. She clenched around me in a vice, her pussy gripping me with lewd avarice, bemoaning every violent exit and celebrating every forced entry, holding me, squeezing me, begging me for release. I didn’t give it to her. I brought her to the precipice, I turned her into a whining, sputtering whore, then I eased her down, winding the tension within her, fanning her desperation. She moved against me with deep, passionate grinds, mewling with begging lips just inches from my own, staring up at me with pleading eyes, her freckled face pouting like a needful child, but I would not show mercy.

“End this!” She begged, the sound blubbering from her.

“No.” I growled, rubbing her clit even harder, squeezing her breast until my fingers disappeared in the fat.

“Do it!”

I took her by the chin, and turned her face to the audience. “Tell them what you want, dearest, and I will give it to you.”

“No.” She whimpered, her breaths cascading from her gaping lips.

I picked her up by the thighs, and hauled her off the blocks. She screamed delightedly, lurching as I guided her body up and down, her body-weight crashing on the point of her penetration, impaling her to depths she hadn’t yet felt. Her breasts flailed in jiggling circles, her belly stretched with the exaggerated arch of her back, and her knuckles whitened in their binds as her fists balled.

“Tell your daddy what you want me to do.” I whispered.

She gritted her teeth, her stifled screams whining through, her throat contracting as though to swallow the words. I dropped her on my cock, my balls slapped against her puffy petals, and she bellowed in sweet surrender, “Please let me come!”

“Come now, Esmerelda!” I laughed, “You can do better! Tell them what you really want!”

“Please let this filthy piggy come from her filthy pussy!” She wailed to her father, and snorted and squealed to abase herself further. I think she enjoyed it.

“Earn it, you sow!” I snarled, magically cut her binds, and threw her to the ground. She clutched at the earth as I mounted her like a bitch, and when I planted my foot beside her face, she licked my toes gratefully, whimpering with need. I gripped her leash, yanked her head up, and made her face her audience. With the other hand, I delivered a ferocious slap across her supple flank. She squealed, and I thrusted. I slapped her again. Her back collapsed into an arch, her shoulders pinched back, and she squealed once more. Her cheeks clapped with every drive of my hips, revealing the coiled pink button of her anus, wafting its aroma into my nostrils. I slapped her a third time, she squealed a third time, and with my slapping hand, I gripped her juicy flank, and pushed my thumb into her aperture.

“Not there!” She screamed, announcing to everyone what I had done to her.

“Not there?!” I laughed cruelly, “What does it matter for a pig like you? Both holes are just as filthy, but this one’s still tight!”

I pulled out of her needful cunt, pressed my tip against her sphincter, and drove in. I moaned, and she screamed. Her shithole clenched around me, her rim swelling as it expanded, becoming a purple ring about which my cock slowly sank. Deeper and deeper I went, greased by the juices of her pussy, passing through the coiled sheath of her rectum, meeting her second sphincter, and pushing through it to enter her colon. She seized in agony once more, but it would be short-lived. Her body had been trained to accept me, and had learned that intense pain would soon become pleasure of even greater heights. I forced her to endure several minutes of torture, burying my long rod deep into her bowels, stretching her exit into a grotesque circle until it would no longer close. I ripped my shaft out, and she shrieked, blubbering in the dirt. Her ruined anus was open for me to see clearly to her bottom, the abhorrent pink and ruby flesh coalescing lazily in her dark channel. I admired my work for a moment, then entered her again.

Her screams began to wane once more, the tenor of her shrieks subsiding. Her body began to relax. My cock bottomed-out her cunt from the wrong side, and she seemed to study the new sensation, breathing raptly, not sounding anything, just staying in her bent-over position while I pumped my cock into her shithole. Her head stayed bowed, her hunched shoulders concealing her face. Then, I heard the moans. They were different from before. The delighted tone was gone from them, replaced with a heinous yearning, a devil’s groan. Her pelvic floor depressed with every thrust, exaggerating her crack, and it popped with every retreat, protruding to erase the division of her glutes. Her rectum clung to me as I pulled out, the slime of her cunt and anus squelching, the delectable scent following. I gripped each succulent glute, spread her wide, and drove all the way, again and again, my balls swinging to slap her reamed slit. Her back eased back into its arch, her shoulders pinched, and she raised her face once more to her audience. What they saw upon it, I could not, but I could intuit the expression from their own faces. She was possessed of terrible and unnatural pleasures, violated to the soul, and they did not recognize the demon she had become.

“Tell him, little piggy.” I whispered.

“Daddy,” she moaned to her slack-jawed father, “he’s fucking me in the ass!”

I balled my fist in her blonde hair, and pulled her head back. “Tell him how it makes you feel, little piggy.” I whispered into her hypnotized eyes.

She looked back at him, and moaned, “I love it! I love it so much!” She confessed.

“Good girl.” I said, petting her head. Then I balled my other fist in her hair, and pulled until her back bowed so deeply that her belly nearly touched the earth. “Now, I will give you your reward.”

I ravaged her for minutes, plunging my meat into her sucking shithole, clapping her cheeks against my crotch, snarling into her face as she did the same, and animal in totality, reveling in the filthiest of acts. She undulated as best she could in her unnatural arch, driving her ass back against me, grinding it into my pelvis, her teeth bared in a terrible smile, hungry growls emanating from her throat. Her back began to twitch with spasms, her rectum began to seize around me, her grimace turned manic, her nose scrunching, her eyes bulging. I upended her from behind, bringing her knees forward, pulling her body upright, showing our audience exactly what was happening to her. Some of them screamed, some of them gasped, but most stayed silent. Her pussy was a ruin, her virgin blood still wet upon her thighs, the slit turned to a gaping hole that was wide enough to see inside, and witness the way her vaginal floor deformed with the bulge of my cock from the wrong side. They could see the way her taint glistened with her vaginal drool, and they could see the horrific reaming of her anus, the grotesque impaling that she garnered such pleasure from.

“Look at your little piggy!” I laughed, and pulled my cock out of her ass. She screamed as she prolapsed, and a few others screamed as well. I traversed the wet length of her taint, and plunged my sullied meat back into her pussy. There were more cries from the audience, and a woman even fainted, but Esmerelda, she exalted like heaven was between her legs. I rubbed her clit with one hand, pulled on her leash with the other, and accelerated my thrusts, burying my ass-soaked cock deep into her pristine channel, giving her the dirtiness she craved, the trauma and humiliation that she now reveled in. Her face darkened with strangulation, her spit bubbled from her gasping lips, her eyes went wide and unseeing. She writhed in her kneeling position, bucking and heaving in contest with me, dancing to the perverse samba that compelled our joining.

“Make me come! I’ve been a good piggy!” She croaked, staring at me with the tops of her darkening eyes, each iris begging me for mercy. I grinned at her, and gave her what she wanted. Plunging my cock into her squelching pussy, I reared back, and pulled her atop my lap. Her hands went to her crotch, and my molesting fingers moved beneath her, pinching together at the heat of her gaping anal entrance, and pushing it. Two more women fainted from the audience, a man wretched, and another vomited. Esmerelda squealed like the pig she was, and twisted her ass around my penetrating fist until her rectal cuff consumed me, and sucked about my wrist. Her breath caught, her eyes rolled back, and she droned a single guttural tone. Her nubile body heaved in the last violent throes of ecstasy, then went rigid with it. I drove inside her a final time, and with a roar, I emptied my balls deep into her womb. The orgasm was so intense that it nearly sent me sprawling backward, and I had to cling to her paralyzed body for support, one of my hands still buried in her stretched shithole, the other grasping her flailing bosom for dear life. The cum surged out of me in a torrent of lava, spurting into her desecrated sanctity, and her corrupted vessel took it greedily, her lewd muscles rolling up my length to milk the seed from my loins.

I pulled out of her with a gasp, my energy spent, but she was still in the midst of paradise, her unseeing eyes staring rapturously at her horrified audience, her body convulsing. Sperm comingled with her virgin blood, and dripped from her yawning slit onto the dirt between her knees. I grabbed her by the collar, and pushed her face into the mixture. She sounded out her orgasmic cries as her tongue lolled out to mindlessly taste the heinous concoction, and she lapped it up, longing to sully her last untouched hole. I stroked my cock to the sight, spurting the last of my seed upon her face, watching it as it dribbled down her cheeks, corned her gaping lips, and dribbled into her mouth. She writhed in the mud and filth for a minute longer, her kneeling to expose her exhausted orifices to the townsfolk and her father, who watched on with a look of utter defeat upon his haggard face. Then, her orgasm subsided, and her hoggish samba ended. Sanity returned to her eyes, and her face was cast in a horrible realization. Breath shuddered from her lips, strings of my cum bridging them, and tears welled in her lenses. I could not look at her a moment longer. I stood up, pushed my cock into my trousers, and looked upon the villagers with an imperious stare.

“You told me you had nothing, but that was a lie.” I sneered at them, “You now have a whore. With the right entrepreneurial spirit, you could turn out… oh, fifty pieces a week for her. She’s not of Bentius stock, not anymore,” I curled my lip, “unfortunately, high-end escort services don’t take swine into their ranks.” I kicked my spurs into my horse, and the beast trotted away, “Another collector will be here next week,” I called over my shoulder, “see that you pay him what he is owed, for I doubt he’ll be as merciful as I!” I released the spell from Esmerelda’s father, and never looked back.

Twenty minutes later, I was back on the country roads, nothing but unharvested wheat on either side of me. I no longer disguised my donkey, but I cloaked myself in the visage of a hobbled old elf. As twilight descended upon the countryside, I found a place to make camp by the road. When the fire crackled by my cooking pot, I took out my staff, and placed Alkandi across from me. She grinned in the flickering light, her eyeless sockets seeming to stare right into my soul.

“I’ve done worse.” I muttered, “You’ve made me do worse.”

She stared back.

“Yes, I enjoyed it.” I growled defensively, “I enjoy picking a scab too, but I still bleed. Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m a bastard. I always was a bastard. I was a bastard before I even met you. You could’ve asked my classmates about me, but of course, you killed them all.” I stared back into the fire, and let out a cloud of smoke from my pipe. “It had to be done, and done brutally.”

She grinned her skull’s grimace.

“Remember what you told me back when we were just a gang?” I snapped, “Every rebellion needs three things, Zander: fear, hunger, and hatred. Well, I’ve given them hatred, and I’ve given them a soul to personify it. That Esmerelda girl is going to carve her name into the history books, mark my words. She’ll be a bloody one.”

Her eyeless sockets winked in the firelight.

“The hunger?” I asked, “I’ll take care of that myself soon. I just need to get to Jonianas.”

Her brow seemed to darken.

“The fear?” I looked out at the mauve prairies, and sighed, “Gorlok will take care of that.”

ADRIANNA

I finished reciting Elena’s plan to the other hybrids. They sat in silence, mentally digesting it.

“I won’t go through with it unless everyone’s on board.” I said, and looked around at my family.

Faltia was the first to speak. “Elena is one of us, a ranger and a hybrid. She’s our forlorn sister, and we must help her.”

The others murmured in agreement. Only Furia stayed silent beside me.

Soraya spoke next. “If you need to make a million dollars disappear, I’m your girl. I can fix the books.”

“Seems like a pretty simple mission, all-in-all,” Brianna said, “get money and deliver it. We don’t even need to plan a heist; we are the bank.”

“It’s the delivery part that’s the problem.” Alexa said, then turned to me, “Commander, are you sure about this?”

“I don’t see any other way,” I said, “those copper mines are the only way to get through the Great Forest without Arbor seeing us.”

“But the risk you’re taking…” Alexa quivered visibly, “Commander, you can’t trust Drake Titus. The only person in the world he’s beholden to is Yavara.”

“And she was the only one he’d give the gift of day-walking to.” Brianna said, “She, and Prestira. If you offer him your throat, he’s likely to just take all of you.”

“He won’t.”

“Then he’ll just refuse you. He hates day-walkers.” Kiera said.

“I’ll convince him to make an exception for me.” I said.

“Will you?” Eva teased.

“You’re goddamn right I will.” I snapped.

The others studied me, each donning a different expression of amusement. If I could be embarrassed, I might’ve blushed, but that part of me was gone, so I just smirked back.

“And after you convince Titus to change you, what then?” Furia asked beside me, “Will you change the rest of us?”

“Of course I won’t.”

“And why not?” Kiera asked indignantly, “Do you want to keep all the fun for yourself?”

“There’s nothing fun about—”

“Oh, shut up.” Brianna giggled, “The only thing not fun about being a vampire is the commitment. That’s why Titus hates day-walkers; they get to have their cake and eat it to.”

“And I love cake.” Eva hissed, licking her lips.

“Will you be making an exception for us, Commander?” Faltia asked, her blue eyes alight with mischief.

“You’ll be making one for me, Adrianna.” Furia muttered in my ear, her body suddenly pressed to mine, “You’re not going into those mines without me.”

“That’s exactly why I’m not biting you.” I said sharply to her, then turned to the rest, “That’s why I’m not biting any of you. I will deliver the money alone.”

Soraya rolled her eyes. “No, you fucking won’t.”

“The risk is—”

“Shut up.” Brianna giggled again.

I harrumphed. “Someone has to run this city while I’m gone.”

“It’s going to take you days to get through those mines, Adrianna.” Soraya said, “And that place is crawling with feral vampires. Are you going to bring a blood-bag with you or something? You need a food source, or you’ll go feral too.”

“Another day-walker.” Alexa said, “One of you changes quickly into your elf form, and the other drinks. You bring food with you so that your elf bodies can regenerate.”

“It’s at least a two-woman job, Commander.” Faltia said.

“And that other woman is going to be me.” Furia said resolutely. None of the others objected.

“If you’re so dead-set on being a stubborn cunt, you can wait to bite us after your mission,” Eva tittered, “but you are going to do it.”

“Vampire sex, bro.” Brianna grinned, “Leather body-suits, and ritualistic blood sacrifices.”

“I can’t wait.” Eva grinned wolfishly, and pulled on Soraya’s dog-leash. The busty masochist purred and crawled into her lover’s arms, dramatically draping her head to expose her throat. Eva planted a kiss on her neck, and sucked loudly.

Furia’s legs wrapped around my waist, her ample breasts forming against my back, her lips on my neck, her teeth gnawing playfully. “Mmm, you’re already so delicious,” she whispered, “I can’t imagine how good you’ll taste when I actually get to eat you.”

“No need to imagine.” Faltia giggled as she parted my knees, and dipped her face into my crotch. She rolled up my robe, and planted her mouth at the apex of my thighs. It was how every night ended in Alkandra, and often how every morning began. My family of bronze demons descended upon each other, their mouths tasting with avarice, their hands grasping with covetousness. Our legs wrapped, our hot parts joined, and we slithered in a pile of moans and limbs, becoming one entity of depthless depravity and limitless pleasure. I was unconsciously part of it, writhing and wriggling in a dance I knew by heart, improvising depending on the tastes of whichever lover I was pleasing, licking and sucking, invading and being invaded, begging and commanding, submissive, dominant, tender, abusive; all my shades and colors flowing effortlessly as my holes were filled with cock, my mouth was filled with cunt, and my heart was filled with love.

When it was over, we slept together on the large bed in our high tower, our bodies creating all the warmth we needed in the fall cold. Only I was awake, staring at the ceiling. On many occasions, we had allowed friends to join us in our nightly ritual, and foremost among them had been Certiok Terdini, and Prince Matthew Dreus. I was greatly fond of the boy, and delighted in his journey of homosexual self-discovery. He’d been abandoned by his father, but he’d found a new family with us. Alexa was especially close with him, and treated him like a lover and a little brother. It would shatter her when he died, and the thought of her anguished visage was enough to rob me of the night’s sleep.

“What’s wrong?” Furia grumbled beside me, nestling her face in my bosom.

“Nothing.” I whispered, and planted a kiss atop her head.

“Liar.” She moaned, and drifted back to sleep.

GORLOK

We crossed the river at night. The map said we were in the Feltianas province; Zander wanted us there. I didn’t give a shit which elven lord it was. I didn’t care about the politics, and I didn’t care about the war. I didn’t even care about Alkandra anymore, for I knew I would never see it. After what I did here, Yavara would never let me live. I knew Zander had given me a suicide mission. In truth, I didn’t even care about that. All my life, I had wanted to ride Ginger into the Highlands, and here I was. I would be the devil they whispered of in the night. I would be the nightmare that lurked in the shadows of their dreams. I would be the grinning face smiling behind them in the reflection of their mirror. I sniffed the air, filling my nostrils with the sweet tang of the maple’s sap. Then I kicked my heels into Ginger’s side, and I charged ahead of my company.

Within the high pastures of Feltianas, was a village. Scores of quaint huts littered the hillside, and atop it was a steeple that created an arrow to the starlit heavens above. Warm orange fires burned from cozy hearths, smoke rose from chimneys to paint the cold fall air in its haze. Silently, Ginger approached the village. We came upon a house. She sniffed through the window, and snorted. No one there. The other wargs spread out through the village, dipping their heads into the windows, finding no one. Each house was empty. I pulled on her scruff, and she stopped. I held up a hand, and all the others stopped as well. I closed my eyes, and listened. There was a sound on the wind. A chorus of exalting voices whispering from the hilltop. My eyes opened, and fell upon the church. I grinned wolfishly.

We surrounded the chapel. The religious melody was uninterrupted as the wargs positioned themselves below the windows, and I moved Ginger before the double doors. I waited for a moment, enjoying the anticipation, allowing what would happen next to play out in my mind. When the song reached its crescendo, I would smash through the doors. There would be a scream of shock, then the scream would rise to one of terror, then one of horror when the realization came to them. The other wargs would burst through the windows, and the fun would begin.

We would herd the people to the center of the chapel. Those too old to move quickly would be pounced upon. Their entrails would be gutted from their bellies by great jaws and razor teeth, and they would shriek like they’d never shrieked before, blood gurgling from their mouths. The people in the center would look on in horror as their elderly writhed, not too old to die fast. “Dad!” Someone might scream, “Mom!” someone might cry, “Grandpa! Grandma!” the children might wail. Oh, the children. They had thought the world made sense. Their parents were gods to them, and they would always be safe, and the things they loved would always be there. It was the visceral shattering of that fiction that would make their horror so pure, and their screams so high. Their mothers would guard them bravely as the wargs feasted upon their grandparents, and the horrible sounds coming from the dying would fill the hall until breath finally left their wretched lungs. There were no men to fight us, and so the mothers would offer themselves to us to save their children. We would accept their offer. We would have our fun with them, then we would feed their pups to our beasts anyway. Wargs always went for the bellies first. The chapel would be filled with a new kind of music, and we would dance with the mothers to the melodies of their children. Then we would reunite mothers, grandparents and young in the bellies of our beasts, but we would leave one survivor. One who was too old to be a child, but too young to be a mother. She would be untouched. When her house of the holy became a mausoleum, she would find a new god in me. She would be my disciple, and she would spread my name and gospel across the land. No escape. No mercy.

I stroked Ginger’s mane, and smiled to myself. The heavenly choir belted out the last verses, and the amen was sounded.

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