Poll Driven Story: “The Tale of the Nemorvian Band”

I’m working on fantasy stuff right now and along with a couple of new stories and going to be going and trying to finish off some unfinshed stories. So, here is the continuation of this story! You can find the story in its current entirety HERE, just the new section is below the break.

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Novaoa rides slightly ahead of her two younger Nemorvian sisters. The three women are riding at a slow but steady pace, all of them ready to draw their weapons if need be. Word had reached them that the king of Iphasea had hired a band of Minotaur mercenaries to hunt them down and that was a battle that Novaoa is certain her small band is not yet ready to face.

“Fucking Minotaurs…” she mumbles to herself. Big. Strong. Brutal. And horny. She’d learned from a very young age to fear the members of that race. They were like the opposite of Nemorvians. All male where as her people were all female. Aggressive and naturally willful while her people tended to be timid and submissive, especially sexually.

So Novaoa was playing a game she hated: that of running and hiding. They had slipped deep into the vast forest that surrounds Iphasea City, leaving behind the busy road they had been raiding since they first escaped their servitude in the brothels of the city. For a month they had kept far from any real roads, living off what supplies they had gathered and what could be found in the woods.

As much as she hated hiding like this it seemed to have worked. There had been no sign that the Minotaurs had been able to pick up their trail. As far as she could tell they were still patrolling the main road, waiting for her band of Nemorvian’s to reappear.

But a month in the wilds had begun to wear on her and her band. Until they had escaped and turned bandit a little over a year ago all three of them had been used to the relative comfort that came from living a life of sexual servitude in a brothel. Yes, their work had been exhausting and often humiliating, but when no one was fucking them they lived in comfort.

She misses that comfort but knows she can go without, her drive to free the other members of her race propelling her to overcome nearly any obstacle. Her two followers, though? She fears their moral is reaching a breaking point. Although none of them speak of it, they ALL know they could easily ride back into the city and walk into any brothel and go back to their former lives.

So Novaoa is taking a chance, riding her band back toward Iphasea for a little comfort. Over the last few days they had moved to the opposite side of Iphasea City, as far away from the Minotaurs as they could get while still remaining close to all the other Nemorvian’s still held in sexual servitude in the city’s brothels.

The roads on this side of the city are far less traveled but that doesn’t mean there aren’t points of interest here. All across Iphasea the king had installed bathhouses along major roads, places of respite where weary travelers could take a short break from the road and wash the filth and weariness from their bodies. The places have no attendants, instead they are magically maintained.

They slowly ride out of the forest onto a small road, the boathouse that is their intended destination visible up ahead. Novaoa knows this road is infrequently used which fits their purposes perfectly. The size of the bathhouse seems to confirm that this is not a highly trafficked road: it is small, a one room temple like structure made of worn white brick.

Remaining as silent as they can the three Nemorvian’s ride slowly around the building, searching for any sign that it is currently inhabited. As far as they can tell it is empty right now, but they all know that could change. So instead of tying their mounts near the front of the temple they ride them out into the woods behind it, storing them out of sight.

Still remaining alert and cautious the three women approach the bathhouse on foot with weapons drawn. If someone who had been traveling on foot was using the building there would have been no sign of them outside. As the three reach the front door into the small building Novaoa signals her two partners to move in ahead of her, weapons at the ready. She gives them a moment’s head start then follows in after them.

The inside of the bathhouse is about what she expected it: a single open room, a large pool of steaming water filling the center two thirds of the floor. The pool is pressed up against the back wall where a large, ornate lion’s head made of white stone is set into the wall. Its mouth is open as if roaring and steaming water pours from it, down into the pool below.

“There’s no one in here,” Kilne says, lowering her sword and turning to look back at Novaoa. The tense look on her face breaks, replaced quickly with a wide smile. “It’s all ours!”

“Gods be praised,” Amitkoa blurts out in joy. “A hot bath! It’s been far too long.”

“Far too long indeed,” Novaoa mutters, realizing just how much she has missed this simple luxury.

The three Nemorvians all start undressing, first taking off their traveling cloaks then their weapons and finally the simple fur bikinis they wear under them. They each pile up their discarded gear near the edge of the pool of water, leaving their weapons on top. None of them want to take any chances should another traveler arrive while they are bathing.

The black haired Kilne is the first to step into the pool. She shivers in delight as her feet are submerged in the steaming clear water. “Heavenly,” she whispers, stepping further into the pool.

Under the water are a few layers of white brick, each lower than the last and formed into a series of large steps that double of as rows of underwater seats. As Kilne moves closer to the center of the pool her body gradually moves deeper and deeper into the water till her large naked breasts are submerged. For a moment she luxuriates in the hot water then closes her eyes and dips her head down into it. A moment later she stands back up, laughing happily as her black hair drips water.

“What are you all waiting for?” she asks, dipping back into the water.

Amitkoa giggles and steps into the water, cooing in delight. She’s soon sitting on one of the underwater steps, pulling steaming water up onto her body and washing away the filth that covers her dark orange-brown skin.

Novaoa is the last to enter but when she does she fully gives into the relaxing warmth of the water, moving till she is neck deep and then submerging herself for as long as she can.

Minutes later the three naked and wet Nemorvians are sitting side by side in the steaming water, laughing happily and washing their bodies.

“It’s amazing how dirty we all were,” Amitkoa says.

“I think it’s more amazing that this pool cleans itself so fast,” Kilne replies. “When we first stepped in there was brown water swirling all around us. But within a minute it seemed to be sucked out the bottom and cleaned before coming back out the lion head fountain.”

“It’s not very often that you see such subtle magic put to suck practically use,” Novaoa says, staring at the stone lion head. Its carved eyes seem so intense, so hard to look away from. “And that subtle fragrance! Do you all smell it?”

Her two partners sniff the air. “Yes…” Kilne says. “Reminds me of… flowers? Something soft and sweat. Like the perfume the nobles would insist we wear back at the—”

NO,” Novaoa says firmly. “We don’t talk about our lives in the brothels. That is behind us now, a nightmare to forget.”

Kilne blushes and looks away. “I’m sorry, Novaoa,” she mutters meekly.

Obviously wanting to change the subject Amitkoa clears her throat and starts talking. “That lion head sure is strange. Something about it is so… mesmerizing. It’s so perfectly carved, lifelike yet unreal at the same time. And it’s eyes…”

“Yes,” Novaoa says, staring at the stone beast’s eyes. “Its eyes are… beautiful! Calming. So hard to look away from…” Her voice trails off as she stares, her body relaxing and starting to go limp.

Beside her the other two Nemorvians are staring at the lion’s head as well. All three women’s bodies sag as if they are entering a state of total relaxation. None speak, none move. They simply stare, their mouths dropping open stupidly.

Slowly their expressions began to change from stupid, mindless gazes to that of happy contentment. A satisfied smile spreads across their lips, their mouths closing slightly. Their postures improve, all three women sitting up straighter which causes their overlarge breasts to be thrust out, although even sitting straight up all three of them have breasts so large that the lower third of them is submerged in the flowing, steaming water of the bathing pool.

For a great time all three Nemorvian woman sit naked, transfixed, and seemingly blissfully happy. None move other than the slow breathing that causes their large breasts to rise and fall slightly. Their eyes remain locked on the lion head, unblinking. The only sound is the flowing of the water out of the carved beast’s head.

Finally the silence is broken by the sound of horses ridding up to the bathhouse, yet the three Nemorvian bandits show no sign of hearing the commotion outside. They simply continue to stare, their posture perfect as they sit unmoving.

“Let’s see if the bathhouse has captured us anything,” a deep, gruff voice rings out.

“See if any stupid cows have fallen into this marvelous little trap,” a higher pitched, softer voice replies.

A moment later two figures stroll into the bathhouse, both dressed for travel with dirt covered cloaks.

One of them is a Human, a tall and bulky figure who is covered in equal parts fat and muscle. His plump ugly face is dirty, his chin covered in thick stubble. He has small beady eyes that glisten with menacing intelligence.

The other man is a slender Night Elf with vibrant purple colored skin. He looks wiry and moves like a jittery cat as if too observant of the world around him and ready to leap back at any surprise.

“Looks like we caught someone,” the Human says with a cruelly amused laugh. “Three no less!”

The Night Elf slinks up to the pool, moving cautiously. His eyes dart to the equipment piled within arm’s reach of the women. “Well armed,” he mutters, getting down low and quickly creeping to their gear and starting to gather up their weapons. “Need to keep these out of reach, just in case.”

As the smaller of the two men moves the weapons to the far side of the bathhouse the large Human begins walking around the pool to get a better look at the women sitting perfectly still and staring at the lion’s head. “Now Rolaen, when you had asked if we had caught any cows I’d thought you were just degrading the lesser of the sexes. But look,” he says pointing at the women, “they be LITERAL cows. Nemorvians!”

Rolaen, the Night Elf, quickly stores the weapons on the far side of the bathhouse then quickly comes to stand next to his partner, looking at the three naked women sitting in the flowing, steaming water. “By the gods, you are right!” He stands up tall and looks up at the man beside him with a devious grin on his face. “We’re going to have some real fun with these three, Theobold. Such big, fat, heavy tits. And you know what their milk does as good as I do.”

The Human nods his head. “Aye, I do my purple skinned compatriot. And from the way they haven’t responded to our presence yet it seems the enchanted lion has had plenty of time to work its magic on these three.” He stops, licking his lips in carnal hunger and moving his eyes over the three women. “I want the older one, the one with the biggest tits. You can have the other two.”

The Night Elf begins rubbing his hands together. “Mmmm, yes, I do so like two at once. Shall we prepare?”

With a nod from the large Human they both begin to undress, dropping their dirty clothing to the ground and quickly stripping naked. Theobold is large and fat with a body covered in dark hair, although his arms look to be well muscled betraying the strength that lies under his bulk. Once Rolaen is naked he seems even thinner, wiry in a way that can only be found on an Elf. And unlike the hairy bush of dark hair between the Human’s legs his body is hairless and smooth from the neck down, making his purple cock look larger than his friend’s. Both men’s members have already started to swell in anticipation of what they know is about to happen.

They both wade into the pool, moving towards the magically transfixed women. Theobold takes the lead, striding up through the water to the three Nemorvians. “You have gazed long enough into the lion’s eyes,” he booms with his deep voice. “It is time to look away from it and submit now to us, not it.”

As one the three women turn form the stone statue and look up at the man now looming before them. Their eyes meet his with happy, vapid expressions on their faces.

Theobold points to Novaoa. “You, the biggest uddered cow, you will be mine. Come to the other side of the pool.”

Silently, still smiling stupidly, Novaoa stands, her body dripping water. Theobold begins moving back, all the way to the other side of the pool. He perches himself on the edge, just his feet in the water. Novaoa follows him, her movements slow and zombie like.

As she nears him he points into the water just below where he sits, at the first under water step. “Kneel here,” he tells her in a commanding voice. “Kneel here so you can rest those huge fat udders in my lap.”

Novaoa does as she is commanded, moving close to him and kneeling in the water before the large, fat man. Once on her knees she grabs hold of her massive breasts and lifts them up, resting them on the man’s hairy legs.

The feel of her heavy, warm, wet tits on his legs helps him harden all the way, his cock now standing at attention between her breasts. He grabs Novaoa’s horns and pulls her head down into his lap, instructing her to begin sucking his cock. She does so, a perfectly obedient slave.

Across from the fat Human Rolaen has begun to play with the other two Nemorvians. He’s called them both out of the pool, each following as if nothing in the world matters as much as following his commands. They both are on their knees below him, facing each other and nearly close enough to kiss. But it is not his desire to see the two busty women touch lips, he has other places he wishes their lips to touch.

Leading them with both his words and his hands he soon stands between them, bent over Kilne the black haired beauty and resting on her back. His hard purple cock is in her mouth and she is sucking it diligently, using her years of practice in the brothels to quickly work him towards climax.

Meanwhile Amitkoa is behind him, her face buried in his ass cheeks, her tongue darting out to lick and probe his puckered purple asshole. “Feast on my ass, you dumb-titted cow,” the Night Elf groans cruelly, reaching back and grabbing her head and shoving it deeper into his ass.

Rolaen is moaning in delight, moving his hips slightly to fuck the mouth wrapped around his cock. Soon he shudders, causing Kilne’s cheeks to balloon as he fills her mouth with his seed.

Normally that would have been the end of things, at least for a bit. But these were no normal women, these were Nemorvian women. Rolaen simple pins the larger breasted Amitkoa to the ground and presses his face into one of her overlarge breasts, sucking hungrily on her nipple. The milk flows freely from her teat, the taste making him moan in delight as his cock re-hardens. Soon he pulls away, feeling to fuck them again, his balls once more full of fresh cum.

Back on the other side of the room the large Theobold is running his hands through Novaoa’s shaggy hair as she presses her overlarge breasts around his cock and bounces her tits up and down. He moans in pleasure, staring down at their immense meaty bulk in his hairy lap.

Before long the Nemorvian woman can sense, thanks to her years as a whore, that the man is nearing climax. Acting on pure instinct she presses her tits in tighter around his cock, bouncing her breasts faster around him as she leans down and takes the tip of his cock in her mouth. She sucks vigorously, pushing him over the edge causing his salty, bitter seed to fill her mouth.

He leans back and groans in satisfaction, yet even as his cock softens in her mouth he feels he is far from sated. With both hands he grabs one of her huge breasts and pulls it up towards his mouth, causing her to moan slightly from the tight grip of her sensitive teat as she is pulled up off of her knees. He pulls her breast to his mouth and drinks from her nipple, her milk immediately letting down and starting to flow into his mouth. He suckles and chugs the milk as if it were a cask of ale, the fluid working its magic on his body and making his cock return to a state of total, throbbing rigidity.

He then presses her back down onto her knees, commanding her to keep pleasuring him with her breasts. But as she starts to do this the happy, obedient look on her face starts to fade, a hint of confusion splashing across it for a moment then slowly starting to change into anger and defiance. “This is wrong,” she mutters, looking up at the man and glaring at him. “This place, it’s done something to our minds!”

The man simply chuckles. “A mental fighter, aye? Must be a strong willed cow to be able to nearly throw off the magic of the lion. But even the strongest will cannot break free,” he tells her confidently.

She continues to glare, but her partial defiance is obviously coming at a great price. Her cheeks flush and sweat begins to pour down her brow as she struggles against the magic enthralling her. “No,” she mutters through gritted teeth, making a point to keep eye contact with the man and not look down at his cock, knowing the sight of it would cause her racial instincts to kick in and doom her. “I will resist.”

Letting go of her breasts she tries to pull away from the man but finds she is unable. Still, she remains defiant. She lifts her hands above her head and locks them together. “I will not pleasure you this way,” she growls, her voice shaky and weak.

Again the man chuckles. “Perhaps, but you cannot escape! And your fat udders are still in my lap, around my cock. I can work your tits and pleasure myself,” he says as he reaches down and grabs her huge breasts, pressing them in around his cock. His big meaty hands sink into her thick, soft tit meat.

A moment later he is thrusting up into her breasts, fucking her tits. Novaoa glares up at him, keeping her hands locked above and behind her head. She grits her teeth and hisses in displeasure yet is unable to resist any more than that.

When he begins to crest towards climax again he grins wildly at her. “Enough of this defiance,” he grunts in pleasure as he humps her chest. “You WILL lower your head to my cock and you WILL guzzle my cum.” Sweating more profusely, glaring angrily and gritting her teeth Novaoa doesn’t respond. “You WILL,” he repeats again, more firmly.

Her defiance lasts only a few more brief moments. Then, with a moan of defeat, Novaoa breaks. Her expression eases and she then leans down, burying her face into her large breasts and sucking the man’s cockhead up into her mouth just as he cums. She drinks his seed with hungry desperation.

“See,” the man says as he leans back and moans in delight at the feel of her mouth around his cumming cock. “There is no hope for you sluts. Your fate is sealed. Let my cum wash away your defiance, let it clear your mind of all thoughts but those of obedience.”

It’s clear that the man understands how the magic of the lion’s head works because the cum that she swallows DOES seem the wash away her defiance, returning her to the blank minded obedient slave she was when he arrived.

 


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