The Tale of the Nemorvian Band

Preface: On Nemorvians


The Nemorvian are one of the strangest races in all of Alaria. To begin with there are only female Nemorvians, male Nemorvians do not exist. Impregnating them is hard, something that adds pleasantly to the life most lead but more on that later. If one does manage to get pregnant the child will always be female and always be a full blooded Nemorvian.

Physically they are about as humanoid as many other races in Alaria. Their basic shape is like that of a Human female, although they tend to naturally be of a much thicker build than the average Human or Elf. Their skin is generally a shade of copper brown that looks much like that of a common brown cow. This is only one of the physical features they share in common with these bovine beasts. They also all have small cow-like horns growing out of their heads and their ears are large and extended although they look more animal than Elven.

But what most notice first about a Nemorvian is their breasts. They all have thick, heavy, overlarge breasts. Many of them have breasts so large they seem unnatural. What’s more every Nemorvian lactates for their entire life after puberty. The milk is a sought after as a deliciously and potent drink. The milk tastes delicious to nearly every being but what’s more important is that if ingested by a male it will immediately make them hard and horny.

This is one of the reasons that most Nemorvians spend their lives as whores. Aside from their desirable large breasts their milk is able to make any man hard and ready to fuck even if he has just ejaculated. This means that if a man has the inkling, and the coin, he can fuck a Nemorvian till he is physically exhausted.

There is another reason that most Nemorvians live their lives as whores. Each one, no matter how strongly willed, seems unable to resist a hard cock. The mere sight of it will turn each Nemorvian into a drooling, mindless, horny, meek bimbo willing to do whatever they are told as long as it is sexual.

Most live their lives happily as whores, valued members of brothels or as personal slaves to some of the richest or most powerful in Alaria. But there are a few stronger willed Nemorvians that try to lead a different path. Some take up lives as priestesses as part of a religion that is sexual in nature, most normally Oohr or Ynara worship. Some rare few are known to try the life of an adventurer. There are even whispers of some becoming bandits with the hope of “saving” their enslaved sisters.

But where did these Nemorvians come from? No one is certain, but it is clear they were not always present in Alaria. Certainly before the Great Collapse there is no record of them. There is one legend that many put stock in. The details vary depending on the source but here is the legend in its most basic form:

The Nemorvians were originally the female population of a large city or small kingdom. At one point this places population as a whole insulted the goddess Ynara so badly that she cursed their entire population, transforming the women into the beings we know as Nemorvians and making it so their bloodline would never again have men in them.

Only the gods know if this legend is true. And if it is it’s an odd thing that so many Nemorvians now worship Ynara. But maybe enough time has gone by that even they don’t remember the curse that created them.



The Tale of the Nemorvian Band


Nowlen Drezen sits in his carriage; the expensive curtains drawn as he casually eats pistachios and reads a tome detailing facts about the different races of Alaria. “Hmph,” he grumbles. “Nemorvians. To think, some of the fat-uddered cows try to live lives other than that of a whore! Now I’ve read everything.”

The attractive, young noble is on his way to the city of Iphasea, capital of the Kingdom of the same name. His family has business there with the king and he has been dispatched to conduct it.

Looking up from his book Nowlen thinks on this. “About time Father starts entrusting the family business to me. As the first born it was always my birthright to take over from him. And now that he’s getting older, well…” He lets the thought hang in the air, not needing to finish it. All of his brothers know their father grows less formidable with every year that passes. They all know it is well past time for one of them to take over.

The carriage starts to slow, irking Nowlen. He had told his coachman that he wanted to be to Iphasea before sundown and that they needed to make good time. Angrily he leans forward and opens the small window that looks out onto the high seat the coachman and the guard with him sits on. “What’s the problem?” he grumbles.

“Sorry my Lord,” the coachmen, also the leader of Nowlen’s personal guard on this trip, says. “But I don’t like the looks of the stretch of the road up ahead. Would be the perfect place for an ambush by bandits. The road curves and the forest here is very thick with large branches hanging overhead. Archers could perch up there and—”

“And you’re just being paranoid!” Nowlen growls. “I know you’re paid to protect me, but really, you think a band of cowardly bandits are going to attack us? You’re both heavily armed and there are two more guards sitting on the back of the carriage. Why father insisted on so many of you coming with me… I had hardly any room for my things!”

“But ser—”

“No, enough. We must be to Iphasea before sundown! Now get a move on!”

With a huff of annoyance the young noble slams the little window closed and throws his body back into his seat. In the process he drops his book. Cursing he leans down to pick it back up just as the carriage picks up speed. “Stupid commoners, always troublesome. Even made me lose my spot!” Picking the book back up he starts to flip through its pages. “Dwarfs, no, Goblins, no, Night Elves, no. Ah, here we are, Nemorvians.”

Having found his place he turns the page but before he can start reading the next passage he hears a scream of pain followed immediately by the carriage veering off to one side. The young noble is jostled almost out of his seat. He expects the carriage to slow down, assuming at first that it had run over a large rock or a small downed tree. But to his great surprise he feels the carriage going speeding up and can hear the coachman shouting for the horses to go faster.

Except, he realizes, it isn’t the coachman shouting on the horses. It’s the voice of the man that is sitting beside him. Quickly he scrambles forward and throws open the little window, demanding to know what is going on. Even as the words leave his mouth he can see the coachman leaning over, an arrow sticking out of his chest, fresh blood streaming into the hand holding the arrow.

“Bandits, Lord,” the man says with a pained groan and a hint of an “I told you so,” in his voice. “Fired on us from above then leapt down onto horses they had waiting. They are giving us chase now, best keep low,” he says, the warning punctuated by another arrow flying by. Now ignoring Nowlen, the man turns and shouts to the men sitting on the back of the carriage. “Keep them back!”

Nowlen quickly slams the window closed then scrambles around, throwing open the curtains that cover the small back window. He sees the two guards there, one loading a crossbow another aiming to fire one. Back behind them, barely visible through all the dust being kicked up by the speeding carriage, are three cloaked figures on horses riding hard after them.

He can tell that the one in the lead is armed with a bow and is taking aim. Then he sees the arrow let loose followed by one of the guards, the one preparing to fire, being hit right in the chest. With a scream the man tumbles forward out of his seat, falling onto the road.

With a scream of alarm Nowlen slams the curtains closed and sinks down into his seat. He quickly looks around for his sword but remembers that it’s packed in with his things in a trunk secured to the roof of the carriage. Sweating profusely, his heart pounding, he starts to laughing madly to himself. “Wouldn’t matter anyways, was always shit at swordplay. My brothers were always better.”

“Keep ‘em back!” a voice calls out.

“I’m trying but they are too—” and then a scream from behind.

Nowlen starts to turn back, thinking about peaking out the side window. But there is no need. The shadowed figures of riders appear through the curtains of both sides of the carriage. The bandits have caught up!

The door into the carriage is wrenched open, slamming into the side of the carriage and leaving him fully exposed. Looking out and backing away to the other side of the carriage he sees a cloaked rider standing up on their horse, riding hard and preparing to leap into the carriage. Then, with amazing grace, the figure does just that. As it lands it points the tip of a drawn blade at the noble and throws back its cloak.

The face that’s revealed is a startling one. Not that of an old, grizzled man as most bandits are, but instead young, pretty and feminine. Yet it is no Human woman looming above the cowering noble. Her skin is too dark, an almost golden copper brown in tone. Her ears are too big and are long and pointed, but not like that of an Elf. They stick out straight from her wild tangle of red-brown hair and look more animal than Elven, each one pierced with three metal hoops of differing sizes. Sticking out of the woman’s hair are two small horns, yellow brown in color and one with a golden ring around its base.

“You’re a Nemorvian!” Nowlen shouts at the bandit.

The woman moves closer, pointing her blade into the man’s face. “So? And you’re a Human, but the coin we’re going to take from you will spend the same in my hands as it would in yours.” The woman is beautiful, even more so for the fierce confidence in her voice.

Even with the blade in his face Nowlen is no longer afraid. “But you can’t possibly make a good bandit!” he proclaims.

“And why not?” she asks, righting herself and opening her cloak to reveal a thick and extra curvy body barely contained in a tight outfit of leather and fur that leaves more of her brown skin revealed than covered.

Her giant breasts are barely contained in a fur lined bikini and as soon as he sees them he feels himself swell in response to the sight of so much indecent breasts flesh on display. Happily he grins at her, trying to keep her eyes of his hands as they quickly fumble with the front of his pants. “Because I know your weakness,” he says then quickly pulls his half erect penis out of his pants and waves it at her.

The woman’s eyes dart down and immediately lock in on the sight of his cock. She lets out a small surprised, “Oh.” A moment later her tense body goes slack, her sword lowering then dropping to the floor of the carriage. Her posture changes, leaning forward towards Nowlen’s cock as if magnetically drawn to it. She starts licking her lips hungrily and moving towards it, dropping down onto her hands and knees as she approaches, crawling the rest of the way to him.

The door to the carriage still hangs open. There are still sounds of battle outside. Yet in that moment Nowlen is confident the remaining guards will take care of the other two bandits. He’s already taken care of this one and he plans on having a little well deserved fun with her while the rest of the battle plays out. And maybe, he thinks, he’ll let his surviving men have a turn with her once the battle is done.

“I think we won’t be needing this,” Nowlen says, grabbing the front of her top and tugging it down. The scant garment simply falls free from her breasts, letting her magnificent huge breasts fall free. The noble marvels at them. He’s had many a whore and plenty of young noble women, but never has he been face to face with breasts so large and full and firmly thick. He grabs hold of them with both hands, squeezing and appreciating how dense the Nemorvian’s tit meat is.

As he squeezes them he sees a bit of white fluid squirt from her nipples causing him to giggle in glee. He keeps squeezing one of her tits, squirting a large amount of creamy milk into his other hand. The woman moans in pleasure as he does this, obviously being sexually aroused by being milked.

He takes the handful of milk and slathers it on his now rock hard cock, jerking off a few times before grabbing the kneeling woman by the shoulders and pulling her closer. Soon her tits are resting in his lap, wrapped around his hard cock. He squeezes them tight around his dick, cooing at how good their warm fat softness feels around his throbbing hardness. He’s also vaguely aware of her nipples leaking more milk, wetly staining his pants. But he doesn’t care, all he can think about is fucking this magnificent creature’s tits.

The pretty young Nemorvian’s eyes are still locked on his penis as if she has been hypnotized by the sight. She reaches up and grabs her tits, pressing them in around his cock. She then starts bouncing them up and down, titfucking his hard cock.

His hands now free, Nowlen decides her nipples need more attention. He grabs them both, pinching them hard and making the woman moan in pleasure. He pulls them together, grabbing hold of both with one hand and pinching hard as her tits bounce up and down his shaft. The woman stares down at his cock as it pops in and out of the top of her pressed breasts, her eyes opening in excitement each time it pops back into view.

“How goes things in here?” a female voice calls out.

Nowlen looks up, remembering suddenly that a world outside of the breasts wrapped around his cock exists. He realizes that the carriage has stopped and that it sounds as if only one of his men is still alive and fighting. There outside the carriage sits another Nemorvian woman, perched atop a horse with her cloak thrown back. This one has jet black hair and looks even younger with smaller horns sticking out of her wild, windblown hair. Her breasts are still huge by the standards of normal beings, yet are significantly smaller then the pair wrapped around his cock.

The woman looks in and sees what’s going on. Her eyes open in surprise and she looks as though she is about to call out but then the tip of his penis pops into view and her face eases, her eyes locked in onto his cock. As if in a trance she clumsily dismounts form her horse and stumbles towards the carriage, climbing up into it.

With a pleased laugh Nowlen invites her forward, telling her to pull her tits out. With a blank, transfixed expression on her face she does as he says. “Is the third bandit another Nemorvian?” he asks. The black haired woman nods her head. “Well then, it doesn’t matter if she kills my last guard! She’ll be as easily dealt with as you two. And then I’ll have THREE Nemorvian whore slaves to protect and serve me on the rest of my trip.”

The thought is enough to push him over the edge. With a groan of pleasure he starts to ejaculate, his seed shooting up and hitting the first Nemorvian in the chin. She starts to stop fucking him with her tits but he tells her not to. “I’m getting soft but that won’t last for long. You, with the black hair, come here! Let me drink your milk, it will get me hard and make it so I can keep fucking this one’s tits.” He looks down at her. “Do a good job, make me cum again and maybe I’ll even let you ride my hard cock.”


* * *


With a savage thrust Novaoa rams her blade into the chest of the last of the guards. The man, big and strong and having fought savagely with an arrow sticking out of his chest, drops to his knees and groans in pain then starts to fall limp. Novaoa pulls her blade free from his chest, enjoying the shower of red that comes spurting out as the man’s body falls to the ground.

Novaoa also enjoys the sound of the man’s body falling dead at her feet. She feels an almost sexual thrill in killing men. How could she not after having been enslaved and made to service them for so many years of her life? It was that forced servitude that convinced her she needed to not only free herself but free as many of her Nemorvian sisters as she could. The two she’s already liberated, the black haired Kilne and the red-brown haired Amitkoa were just the beginning. They were bandits now, but that was just to raise the coin they needed to buy better gear to free more of their sisters.

“Where are they?” she asks, suddenly realizing there is no sign of either of the Nemorvian women. “Amitkoa went into the carriage earlier and I sent Kilne to check on her.” She moves towards the carriage and immediately hears the unmistakable sounds of fucking. What whore of so many years would not recognize them instantly?

But no Novaoa is no simple former whore, she’s a Nemorvian. So the sounds of intercourse with a man is enough to get a biological response from her body. She feels the nipples on her humongous breasts harden. She feels her heart rate increase. She feels her slit moisten and start to throb with anticipation.

Cursing she starts to move towards the door of the carriage. She has to put an end to this, and fast. Yet, she’s already so excited. She makes herself stop, realizing she was falling into the trap that kept her enslaved for so many years. Should she turn and look into the carriage now it would all be over, her Nemorvian revolution dead before it truly began.

She needs to calm her body and clear her mind first. Novaoa leans her back against the side of the carriage, throwing her cloak open and revealing her massive breasts. They were always big, even for a Nemorvian, and they had only increased in size as she had grown older and thicker. And her new life as a bandit hadn’t burnt off any of her curves. Nemorvians just didn’t work that way.

Like her fellow Nemorvians the leather and fur outfit she wore was little more than a bikini. Like all of her race she hated wearing clothing, finding them suffocating. Yet she knew they couldn’t ride naked through the wild woods. She insisted they wear SOME clothing. Still, what they wore was easily taken off or simply pulled aside.

As she leans back against the carriage she drops her sword and pulls her huge breasts free of their clothing, breathing in deep in satisfaction as she feels the cool air of the shaded forest on her hot and hungry flesh. Her nipples are already rock hard, her huge areolas pebbled and raised in ripples of hard flesh, her nubs engorged and large. She arches her back and starts pinching at them, squeezing her breasts and sending some of her milk shooting out before her and into the dirt of the road.

She moans and presses back against the carriage, trying not to concentrate on the sound of fucking coming from inside. She can picture it so clearly, one of her fellow bandits in some man’s lap, riding him wildly, her big tits flopping up and down. And from the sucking and slurping sounds she can see the other one sitting next to him as he sucks on her tits, drinking her milk and keeping himself hard.

One of Novaoa’s hands drifts southward, dipping into the garment that covers her woman hood. Her fingertips dance around and then across her clit, making her gasp and grind her back into the carriage. Then she moves her hand lower, curling her fingers into her dripping wet cunt.

For a time the leader of the Nemorvian band of bandits stands there, her back arched and pressed against the carriage, her huge breasts thrust out as she furiously masturbates listening to her fellow bandits fucking the man they are robbing. Finally she manages to rise to climax, biting her lip to keep from screaming in pleasure. She has no desire for her followers to know she had to clear her mind like this before saving them.

With a deep breath of satisfaction Novaoa pulls her hand from her pants, lifting it to her face to lick the juices of her own cunt off her fingers and smell the heady, pungent scent of her womanhood. Then, putting her huge breasts back in her top, she rights herself and picks her sword up from the ground where she let it drop.

One more deep breath. She turns, closing her eyes then leaping into the open carriage. Even with her mind clear she knows she’ll have to act fast. She opens her eyes to the sight she had imagined: Amitkoa sitting in the man’s lap facing him, riding his cock. Kilne beside him, holding one of her breasts up as the man drinks her milk.

Novaoa screams and lunges forward, ramming her sword into the man. He screams, milk leaking out of his open mouth as he turns to look at her in surprise. She pulls her sword out of his chest them lops his head off. Amitkoa and Kilne scream in horror, quickly pulling away from the now headless body.

“He had to die,” Novaoa says. “Every man that uses his cock to tame us has to die,” she says even more firmly.

Both women recover quickly, pulling their clothing back on and staring at the corpse spilling blood all over the finery of the inside of the carriage with hate.

“I warned you.” Novaoa says. “Don’t stare at cocks for too long, even a glance is enough to make us stupid. Try harder next time.”

Both women nod, seemingly ashamed.

“Now come on, we must loot the carriage and be off. I expect to find a lot of coin and finery we can sell.”


* * *


“You are Jennenes Moonlight,” the High Elf says to himself in the mirror. He is tall, narrow, and muscular. His hair is short and dark, his ears impressively long even for a High Elf. He stands before the full body mirror naked, admiring his unclothed form. His muscles are well defined, his body a specimen of Elven perfection. Even his cock is impressively sized for one of his race. The only blemishes on his perfect body is a large gash like scar that runs from below his left eye down his face and over his mouth down to his chin. That and a number of glowing purple arcane tattoos on his forearms.

“You are Jennenes Moonlight,” he repeats with confidence. “You are king of the Kingdom of Iphasea. The youngest king in that kingdom’s history. You murdered your father to ascend to the throne. You are rich. Women all over desire you, desire your body and desire to be made your queen.”

He smiles at this, looking down at his cock and feeling blood rush to it as he thinks of all the pathetic noblewomen he’s bedded that thought doing so would lead them to becoming his queen. “You are a beast in bed,” he tells himself.

His smile grows. “You are one of the most perverse beings in all of Alaria, your sexual lust untamed and unmatched. The brothels of your capital city, Iphasea, or matched only by those of Cliffshield. You are the perverse king and you do what you please,” he says then nods happily, turning from the mirror.

Nearby is an ornately carved wooden table, small with a circular top. Sitting in the center of this small table is a circular black medallion with glowing blue runes carved into it. Jennenes picks the item up, the blue runes glowing brighter at his touch.

With the item in hand he moves across the large room, heading for a large cushioned chair. Its cushions are made of the finest, most expensive fabric, stuffed with the down of countless slaughtered swans. He gets up on the chair, kneeling on it. The red cushions have a round tube like cushion sewn into the top, a resting place for his head. The chair is built leaned back slightly and sitting in it on his knees like this leaves his crotch thrust out and up.

His cock, already half erect from thinking about all the women he’s bedded, now grows fully hard as he anticipates what he’s about to do. He places the black medallion on the cushion just under his cock. He runs his finger tip around the glowing runes, muttering a few arcane words in an ancient tongue. When he is done he pulls his hand away and says, “Eczotl, I give you my faith and ask that your medallion pleasure me.”

The runes glow brighter, a circle in the center of the medallion beginning to turn then opening up to reveal sparking bluish-purple energy inside. The energy extends out, taking the form of smooth tentacle like appendages of pure energy.

As the tentacles reach out Jennenes grabs his hard cock by the base and holds it up. The largest tentacle wraps its length around his hard shaft and begins jerking him off. The other two smaller tentacles start to caress his balls.

Jennenes leans his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, moaning in pleasure. “I am Jennenes Moonlight, black mage and master of all the dark arts. I give my faith to all the dark, perverse gods. Eczotl, Baedor, Dethys, Azel, Bodruer and countless others. I give them my faith and they allow me to feel pleasure beyond most being’s imagination!”

He shudders as the tentacles of energy work his cock. “By the gods, this feels so good,” he moans. “Won’t last much longer…” Then he grunts, his hard cock quivering and spurting out a full, thick load of cum.

As he ejaculates the tentacles pull back from his cock, their energy receding back into the black medallion. Once returned to the inside the small circular opening slides closed, the glowing runes fading slightly. Most of his cum has landed on the medallion, but the black surface seems to suck the semen up as if it is powered by it.

With a deep sigh of satisfaction Jennenes stands, picking the medallion up and returning it to its small table.

He looks at himself in the mirror. “You are Jennenes Moonlight and this world is your fucking plaything.”


* * *


Jennenes sits on his large, ornate throne, bored and only half listening to his majordomo as the Elven man drones on about the boring matters of state. “Yes, yes,” he says, waving off the current concern. “I trust you to take care of these mundane matters, I grow bored of them. Is there nothing interesting on today’s agenda?”

The man stammers nervously, looking at the scroll in his hand. He knows the king’s anger can appear quickly and that it is best not to be the target of it. “Well, your Majesty, there are the mercenaries you have hired to deal with the band of Nemorvian bandits that have been causing so much trouble.”

The King sits up straighter, his interest returning. “Oh yes, I had nearly forgotten about them! Who would think such women could not only throw off their lives of servitude here in my brothels but actually make successful careers as bandits! If not for the bad precedent it sets for the other Nemorvians I’d almost be tempted to let them be. But we can’t have any more of our most profitable whores deciding to leave their jobs and go become bandits, can we?”

“Oh no, sire. There’s also the matter raised by the noble Drezeb family.”

“And what matter was that? Remind me, I forget.”

“Well, sire, their eldest son was slain by these bandits on his way to this very city! The father of the family demands these bandits be dealt with by the crown and suggests if they aren’t he and his family will stop backing you, perhaps even switch their allegiance to one of the other great houses that eyes the throne with such lust.”

“Well,” Jennenes says with a laugh, “we can’t have that. Rebellions are such boring and tedious affairs. So who are these mercenaries you’ve hired? Do I get the honor of meeting such un-honorable men?”

“Yes, sire. I will go get them now,” the majordomo says with a bow, ducking out of the King’s audience chamber. A few minutes later he returns, followed by a large group of hulking Minotaur’s.

The beastly men are huge, taller than the tallest High Elf by at least two feet. Their bodies are massive and wide, covered in rippling muscles. Other than being mostly covered in a thin, fine layer of brown fur they look much like men, but on a massive scale, except for their heads. They have the heads of bulls, looking far more animal than man till they speak. Then it is clear they have as much intelligence as any of Alaria’s sentient races.

Many of the Minotaurs are armed with massive weapons, axes and swords that a normal Elf or Human would barely be able to wield with two hands yet these huge men do so easily with one. All of them look tough and brutal and most importantly hungry for action.

There is another thing about these Minotaurs that peeks Jennenes interest. Every one of them wear little more than a few studded leather straps. They are each functionally naked, their intimidating large cocks hanging free between their legs. Few men’s members had ever made the King feel inadequate but these beast-men each have cocks that make him feel tiny by comparison.

He points at the Minotaur standing in the front, gray hair on his head and obviously the leader. “Why are you all so under dressed?” he asks demandingly.

The lead Minotaur grunts and looks down at his own overlarge cock then back up at the king. “We don’t like the layers of finery you Elflings and the Humans like to wear. They feel constricting and uncomfortable. And we pride ourselves in needing no armor. So we go about naked and there are none to stop us.” It is clear that the last statement is a challenge to the king. Not even for him will they clothe themselves, he’s implying.

“Oh, I like you,” the King says with a happy laugh. “So tell me, can you take care of these troublesome Nemorvian bandits?”

“Yes,” the Minotaur grunts. “Will be easy work.”

“What if I told you I wanted them alive?”

The Minotaur shrugs. “We can do that, but it will cost more.”

The King waves this away. “Yes, yes. Coin is no concern to me. I want you to leave today, my majordomo will tell you where they’ve been spotted. And remember, bring them to me alive!”


* * *


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.

A few minutes later both men stand, stretching and yawning. They wore the sleepy grin of men sexually sated, their minds dulled with post orgasmic pleasure.

“Come, Rolaen, it is time for us to dress and be on our way. We have pressing matters in Iphasea City and although these fat uddered cows have been a pleasant and refreshing distraction we best now be on our way.”

The Night Elf nodded, giving the Nemorvians one last longing look. “Perhaps they will still be here when we ride back this way.”

“Maybe,” Theobold says, “but it is not likely. Either someone else coming through will try and claim them, taking them from this place, or the magic of the lion’s head will wear off and they will be able to escape. But these are not worries of ours.”

As the two men dress Kilne and Amitkoa sit in the steaming water, their expressions blank and their gaze distant and unseeing. But Novaoa stares after Theobold, looking to the man for instruction. Once the men are dressed they turn to leave the bathhouse and Novaoa rises from the pool to follow them.

They do not notice her presence till they are outside and preparing to mount their horses. “Stupid slut,” Theobold snarls, waving Novaoa away. “I’m done with you!” But it is clear from the blank expression on her face that she does not understand his words.

Making a sound of annoyance he hops up onto his horse. “Come, let’s be gone,” he huffs, annoyed the huge titted naked woman continues to stare at him. They start to ride away, Novaoa shambling after them like some kind of mindless zombie. “Gods, what a dumb cow,” the large man says, looking back at her. “Ride faster, Rolaen, we’ll soon be out of her sight and she’ll lose track of us.”

As they ride away Novaoa stumbles after them, no sign of conscious thought on her expressionless face. Just as the men turn round a corner and disappear into the woods a large bird flies down before her, screeching and flying off into the forest to her right. The hypnotized Nemorvian turns, following after the bird.

Naked, dripping water, her massive breasts swaying from side to side, she stumbles into the forest occasionally tripping on a root or rock. But always she is soon back on her feet, shambling forward with mindless intent and leaving her Nemorvian sisters far behind…


* * *


Jennenes Moonlight sits upon his throne looking disinterested as a woman is dragged out of the throne room, wailing in despair. “Shouldn’t have broken your King’s laws, you dumb slut,” he mumbles.

“She knew the penalty,” his majordomo says. “She’ll spend the rest of her life working in a brothel for her transgression.”

“I find that is where most women belong,” the young King says, holding his hand up before his face and looking at his nails. After a moment he looks down at his majordomo, fire in his eyes suddenly. “Please tell me the next person requiring my attention will be less tedious.”

“I think so, Your Majesty.” He turns and waves for the next supplicant to be let into the throne room. “I present to Your Majesty, if it shall please him, Lady Teddem of clan Stoutgrip of the Shadow Mountains. The Dwarf noblewoman brings a message from her father, leader of clan Stoutgrip.”

Jennenes sat up as the stout Dwarven woman came striding confidently into his throne room. Her head was held high and a perfectly poised look was on her face.

Looking at her the King wondered how old she was. If she had been a Human he would have guessed she was in her early late thirties. But like Elves the Dwarfs lived long lives and that made her true age hard to tell. Still, it was clear she was no youth and she carried herself like a woman with the confidence that only came from vast life experience. That confident air she carried with her only increased her natural beauty and the normally distracted King suddenly was paying very close attention.

She is dressed in thick, low cut black dress, the crest of her clan sewn onto the front. For a Dwarf the outfit is incredibly decedent, although by the standards of his kingdom the clothing could barely be considered finery.

What interests him more than her clothing is what lay under it. He is a lover of thick bodied and large breasted women, a description that fits almost every Dwarf. Their race is short compared to a Human or Elf and this leaves the always wide and thick figures they have making them look even MORE curvaceous. To many eyes Dwarf women seem fat, but Jennenes knows well that their bulk is more muscle then soft excess flesh. Yet every Dwarf woman he has ever fucked has had ample fat breasts, some the size of a Halfling’s body. And their asses tend to be huge and fat as well, leaving Dwarven women a plump treasure to behold from either side.

This Dwarf seems not to be an exception and if anything her breasts seem far larger than expected from one of her race. Sometimes men would laugh that Dwarf women had to be as muscular as their men to be able to carry the weight of their massive thick and heavy breasts, a joking comment that never seemed as true as the King beholds the Dwarf noblewoman.

“If it pleases His Majesty,” the Dwarf woman says, smirking up at the king, “I could lower the top of my dress so that he could stare more easily at my breasts.”

Jennenes blinks, realizing he had been ogling the noble woman’s overlarge breasts. For a moment he thinks she is mocking him but when he looks at her face and sees the sly smile on her pretty yet mature features he knows that is not the case. If anything the proposal might even be sincere.

“It would not be proper to do so here in the throne room, at least not now when it is so full of court attendants,” he replies, sitting up straighter in his chair and intentionally not telling her “no”.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” she replies. Even so, as she speaks she reaches up and undoes the top clasp of her robes, allowing the King to see a bit more of her over abundant cleavage. “What would please His Majesty?”

“To know what business brings you here,” he says, the curiosity as to why her father has sent her to him clear in his voice. “Stoutgrip is not a man who sends envoys of his clan for no reason. Have my coin masters not been timely in paying your father for the ore and stone that he sends from your clan’s home in the Shadow Mountains?”

“No, Your Majesty. In fact, the very opposite. The commerce between our Dwarven strongholds and your kingdom makes us rich and the exotic luxuries that your capital city’s renowned brothels bring our people have only increased their contentment. Never have the Dwarfs of the Shadow Mountains prospered so.”

“So why is it that you are here?” he asks. He knew her father. He was a hard, ambitious man that never did a thing unless there was something for him and his clan to be gained from it.

“My father sends you a gift to thank you for making him rich and helping our clan cement power in our mountain home. Already the other clans diminish, becoming ‘lesser’ as we become greater. In fact there are even whispers that my father should be named King and given true dominion over ALL the Dwarfs that reside in the Shadow Mountains.”

“Whispers your father no doubt began,” Jennenes replies with a knowing smile. Yes, her father is ambitious and it has been clear to Jennenes that the man has always desired to be more than just head of the most prominent clan in his home. The man has always wanted a crown and it seems that the desire is finally within arm’s reach.

“You speak of a gift. What is it your father sends to try and bribe me into backing him when he eventually claims a crown?”

Lady Teddem’s smile grows. “It brings me great pleasure that you and my father have such a strong understanding of each other. He speaks often of you and your ambition, but it’s the things that others speak of about you that have piqued my interest. You’ve a reputation, Your Majesty, for decedent carnal indulgence.”

Jennenes listens in silence, admiring the bravery of this Dwarven woman to come before his throne and speak so openly about his sexual hobbies.

“To be used by such a mighty King as you,” she continues, “it must bring nothing but honor, or so it is said among Dwarfs.”

Jennenes now laughs. “I highly doubt that. You Dwarfs are too willful and stubborn to view submitting to a King’s sexual whims as something that would honor you. If anything I’d think doing so would bring great shame to your clan.”

She shrugs. “Perhaps it is this way with OTHER Dwarf clans, those that are less ambitious then my own. They all seem content to work the mines and quarries and go through the ages with nothing changing. But we Stoutgrips strive for a better world for ourselves and know to respect and revere power in all its forms, for one becomes powerful by having powerful friends and allies.”

“You speak in circles, although I am enjoying the flattery,” Jennenes says. “But no more evasions, what is this gift your father sends?”

The Dwarf woman bows slightly, stretching her arms out. “Me, Your Majesty.” As she stands back up there is a mischievous fire in her dark eyes. “And although the gift comes in my father’s name and with his blessing it is I that suggested the giving of this gift.”

She pauses, looking around at the attendants and guards that fill the throne room. “I’ve instructions to give his majesty his gift during this meeting, for once it is done I shall be quickly leaving your city to return to my home. I was happy to be sent to you but I do not care to be away from my home for long. The open sky of these lands… unsettles me. So, would it please His Majesty to open his gift while his people watch or shall he send them away so that I can give part of myself to you in privacy?”

He makes note of the words she has used: part of herself. Their meaning are clear to Jennenes, he will not be able to do as he wishes with her. Somehow that excites him more than if she had been spread upon his bed to be his willing and obedient plaything. His mind races, wondering what the noble Dwarf will be willing to give him, exactly what he will be allow to do to her.

“I suppose, then, that I think it is time we be left alone,” Jennenes replies, standing up from his throne and looking about at the men surrounding them.

The captain of his guard takes a quick step forward giving the Dwarf a weary glance. “But Your Majesty,” he objects. It is clear he does not trust the Dwarf and worries that this is some ploy to do his King harm.

Jennenes, however, has no such worries. “I said be gone,” he booms. “ALL of you.” There is an implied threat in the firmness of his voice, one that all of his men understand. They quickly start to exit the throne room soon leaving the King and the Dwarf alone.

Slowly he steps down from the dais his throne sits atop, staring hungrily at the Dwarf Noble woman and smoothly undressing as he approaches her. She stands firm, continuing to look at him with the same confident smile she’s worn since entering his presence.

As he nears her she opens the front of her, revealing that she wears no clothing under it. She lets the garment fall to the floor leaving her standing naked.

Jennenes licks his lips as he stares hungrily at her body. He stands over six and a half feet tall while the wide, plump woman can’t be an inch over five feet. Yet her presence feels so much larger thanks to her exaggerated curves. Her ass is fat, her hips wide. But what truly draws his attention is her breasts. Huge, wide, and heavy in a way that is uniquely Dwarven, the sight of their impressive fleshy mass already making his manhood swell.

“So what part of you is it that I am being given as a gift?” he asks, starting to walk slowly around the naked woman as he inspects her fleshy curves more closely.

She continues to stand perfectly still, staring ahead of herself with the same confident expression on her face. “Well, Your Majesty, it is clear to me what part of my body you desire most. I hope it will bring you great joy to hear that it is my breasts that my father offers you, the largest in all the clans and the marvel of the Shadow Mountains.”

“That,” he replies slowly, “I believe is not vanity or exaggeration.” As he finishes speaking he comes back around to the front of her body and looks down admiringly at her huge breasts.

For a moment she looks up into his eyes then she glances down from his face, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of his fully erect cock. “Oh my, so big, Your Majesty! I think the whispers that one of the gods you pray to is Azel must be true. Surely the god of cock has blessed you with such an overlarge member?”

He nods. “It is true and I am not ashamed to admit as much. What about you? Do you prey to Ynara, goddess of fat tits? Are ‘the marvel of the Shadow Mountains’ enhanced by the blessing of a goddess?”

“No, Your Majesty,” she replies, grabbing her huge breasts and hefting them up proudly. “These are all natural and come solely from good breeding. A sign, my father says, that his blood is meant to be king. And the men in my family, their cocks are even more impressive in size than my breasts.”

A sly smile pulls at Jennenes’ lips. “Do you know this from firsthand experience? Is you clan, your family, that close?” He is mocking her, testing her reaction to see how subservient she is willing to be.

She simply continues to smile the same confident smile at him. “No, we are not THAT kind of family. But we are not shamed by nudity and those we bed are encouraged to spread the tales of our carnal skills.”

Lady Teddem, still holding her breasts, begins to bounce them slightly. Her ample tit-flesh jiggles prettily, drawing Jennenes in closer. “But enough talk,” she says. “It is time for you to receive your gift, Your Majesty.” She drops down onto her knees, holding her breasts tight so the landing doesn’t cause them to bounce too wildly. She looks up at the King and spreads her breasts open. “Come, Your Majesty, place your cock between them and then do as you will to them.”

“Oh, I will,” Jennenes says, “but first something is needed for my cock to make the most of its time between the ‘the marvel of the Shadow Mountains’.” He holds his right hand up, the faintly glowing tattoos on his arm suddenly glowing more intensely. Magical energy gathers in his hand, which he then lowers to his erect cock. It transfers from his hand to his shaft, coalescing up its length and solidifying and turning to glistening lubrication.

“I do think His Majesty is showing off,” Lady Teddem says, smirking up at him.

“Perhaps,” the King replies, grabbing his large cock and slapping it down onto her chest with a wet “thwack”. “But this WILL make things more pleasurable for the both of us.”

“I’m sure,” she responds, pressing her huge breasts in around his cock.

Even though his member is impressively big, both long and thick, her breasts are so over large that they completely enveloped his cock, totally hiding it from sight. Jennenes reaches down, grabbing her tits and pressing them in tighter. They are so massive that both of them are able to be grabbing their fleshy bulk without their fingers touching. And when he starts moving his hips and begins humping the Dwarf noble’s breasts they prove so big that his cock isn’t even able to pop out the top of her cleavage.

“May the gods be praised,” Jennenes huffs in pleasured delight. “These tits of yours are a wonder!” It isn’t just their size that is so pleasing to him, but how dense and thick they feel both in his hands and wrapped around his cock. The breasts of no other race are the same, none so heavy and substantial.

Lady Teddem keeps firm hold of her breasts as she kneels before the King, happily looking up at him. “You know, Your Majesty, you are the first member of another race that has been allowed to be with me sexually. And not even a Dwarf has been allowed to use my famous breasts in this way. You are being given a great honor by a future princess, for my father WILL be a king. It is only a matter of time and of tying up loose ends.”

Jennenes huffs and grunts happily as he fucks her huge breasts, sweat running down his face from the exertion. He keeps his breathing as slow and steady as he can, doing all in his power to make this last as long as possible before he reaches climax, for he is certain that once he does his time with her and her breasts will be over.

“Is my backing of your father in his claim for a crown one of those loose ends?” he asks between heavy thrusts up into her tits.

“No, Your Majesty,” the Lady Teddem replies happily. “You are a blade to cut those loose ends away. But we shall speak more once you have finished, I can tell you are growing close. I had expected no man would be able to last long using my breasts in this manner and by the look on your face my expectations are correct.”

The King pounds her tits harder, faster, no longer fighting his body as it crests towards orgasm. With one final slam up into her mountainous tit-flesh he groans in delight, his body tensing as his cock unloads a huge load of semen into her pressed breast-flesh. They booth looked down and see his seed bubble and ooze up from between her breasts, creating a pool of cum in the top of her cleavage.

“There is so much of it!” she proclaims, sounding both surprised and impressed. “I knew not that Elves cum in such quantities.”

Pulling back away from her, his cock already sagging and growing limp as it drips cum on the throne room floor, Jennenes breathes heavily. “They do not. But I am an exceptional man who is blessed by Azel the cock god in many ways.”

For a moment Lady Teddem keeps her breasts pressed tightly together, looking down and admiring the pool of semen held between them. Then, as she stands, she lets go of her huge breasts. The massive load of semen begins to flow messily down her front, oozing between her overlarge breasts and trickling down her pudgy belly.

“I shall wear your royal seed as a badge honor,” she declares, standing tall and proud. “And I shall not wipe or wash it away till I have returned to my home in the mountain,” she adds, bending over to pick her dress up and putting it back on so that the cum running down her front is hidden from sight.

Sated, Jennenes has also dressed and returned to his throne, sitting down to rest in his post orgasmic haze of contentment and tiredness. He looks down at the Dwarven noble, standing in the center of the throne room still with the same confident smile on her face. Except for a slight blush in her cheeks she shows no sign of what has just transpired. She seems to simply be waiting patiently for permission to speak.

“You’ve played me well,” he declares, still trying to catch his breath. “You got me alone, pleasured me so my body is calmed and my mind dulled. So tell me, not that you have me in such a position and that we are alone with no ears to overhear us, why have you REALLY come? What does your father really want from me? How am I to be a blade that cuts the loose ends away?”

Her expression remains the same but her dark eyes glitter with devious joy. It is clear this is the moment she has been waiting for. “You will back my father’s claim for a crown?”

“Yes, yes,” Jennenes says, waving the words away. “He and I want the same thing: power. Yet there is no reason we need be enemies. Together our ambition can tie us together as allies, our backs together as we subjugate the rest of the world around us. But what else does he want? There must be more.”

Lady Teddem waits for a moment, letting the silence fill the throne room till it feels oppressive. Then, finally, she begins. “There are still clans that will fight to keep things as they are,” she says. “Influential clans who the lesser ones will follow. My father cannot make the claim for the crown till he knows they will bow before him and fall in line before his whims and desires. Should they fear my father then they would do so, the lesser clans following along after them.”

“And how,” the King asks, “shall I help spread this fear?”

“We shall take captives from these clans,” she declares. “Women or wives of men who have spoken out against my clan’s, or more specifically my father’s, ambitions. It would not be honorable to kill these women nor to keep them as hostages, at least so our people think. But wrongs could be found, these women declared oath breakers or framed for crimes that would require punishment. But what should their punishment be? To be sent to you to become whores in your city’s brothels. They will not be able to object and the shame this will bring their clans will make them afraid and show them my father has powerful allies AND show the rest what happens to our enemies’ women, a fate most will think is worse than death.”

Jennenes grins. “How delicious. I agree.”

She bows. “Then I take my leave, Your Majesty. I must return home with haste because although I have enjoyed my visit with you I do not care to be away from the comfort of my mountain halls. I desire to be out from under open sky and the roofs of Elf and Human buildings feels little more than tissue paper to me.”

Lady Teddem then turns and begins to leave but the King calls after her. “Wait! One last question. This plan, was it your father’s idea or yours?”

She turns, looking back and flashing the same smile that has been on her face the whole time she has been before him. “Why, mine, Your Majesty.” She then turns and leaves.

“Oh, I like her,” the King mutters, watching as she disappears from sight and his normal attendants and guards return back into the throne room. Soon they are all ready to return to the normal business of the crown. “Who is next?” the King asks.

“The oldest surviving son of the Drezen family,” his majordomo declares. “He comes to inquire about the hunt for the Nemorvians that killed his older brother.”

The King waves his majordomo away. “Send him to the Minotaurs I’ve hired. I heard they were back in the city, regrouping for a time before continuing their hunt.”

“Is it wise to send a member of such an influential family away?” the man asks cautiously. “They may take the act as in insult.”

The King shrugs. “I’ve moved on from allies such as the Drezen family. I’ll no longer be backing my throne with the meager power of merchants and minor Human families. I am King and it is other kings and great lords who shall keep me on this throne. Remind him I’ve done more to avenge his family then most in my position would and that the Minotaurs have cost a lot of coin. If he is unhappy with their services so far tell him I give my blessing to try and retrieve the coin from them and hire someone else.”

“Why, they’d kill him were he to try that!”

“Oh yes,” the King replies, “and rid me of an annoyance should he be so stupid as to try. Go, send the man on his way. I wish to hear no more of this till the Nemorvians are captured.”


* * *


Novaoa’s naked feet were covered in filth accumulated during the long time she had been stumbling through the woods, moving deeper and deeper into their untamed wilds. But slowly the mighty Nemorvian woman was coming out of the mental haze the enchanted lion’s head had put her in. The thick fog that crowded out her thoughts was starting to clear and she was once more becoming aware of her surroundings, although she didn’t yet have control of her body. Her movements forward, however, were slowing.

Her slow zombie like walk slowly came to a halt, the naked woman blinking and looking about her, confused at how she had gotten here. “Where am I?” she mutters, confused. Slowly memories started to come back to her, the lion’s head and how it had put her and her Nemorvian sisters into some kind of deep trance and then the two men coming in and using them all.

The memory makes her clench her fists in anger. She had sworn she would never let men use her like that again. Recalling the shameful event brings other memories flooding back into her mind, memories of her long life as a whore in various brothels. Sold from one owner to another till she had ended up in Iphasea City.

“Never again,” she whispered, repeating the vow she had made when she had escaped, taking those she could with her. And now she had failed, failed without a fight. She curses herself for having been so careless and curses again when she thinks of Kilne and Amitkoa. Although she assumes they are still sitting entranced in the bathhouse she doesn’t know for certain, by know someone else could have found them and done far worse to them.

What she does know is that she has to get back to them, to save them and press on with their mission to save the other Nemorvians held in sexual servitude in Iphasea City. First, though, she’ll need to find her way back to the bathhouse. That, however, seems like it is going to be a challenge.

Looking about she finds that she is deep in the forest with no hint at what direction she has come from. And looking up she can see that the sun is beginning to set and that soon it will be dark. These woods are a dangerous place at night even when armed and she stands here naked and weaponless.

Not far from her she stands is a small rocky rise which she begins towards, hoping that if she climbs it she may be able to see over the trees of the forest and spot the road she has come from or maybe even the bathhouse itself. As she approaches she discovers the opening of a cave, the sight bringing her great joy. At least she’ll have a place of relative safety to hide in during the long, dark night.

Or is it a place of safety? As she draws nearer she slows, seeing signs that this cave might already be inhabited. Paths seemed to be trampled in the underbrush heading out in many directions and at the mouth of the cave are scatter bones that look as if they have been gnawed clean.

What lives here? she thinks. Wolves, perhaps?

She has her answer almost immediately as a massive figure begins to emerge from the shadows of the cave. She gasps and takes a step back as a huge troll steps out of the cave, yawning and rubbing its eyes like a simple minded child.

It looms tall, at least three feet higher than her and that is while it leans forward. It has a gross, fat body but she knows that under its bulk lay powerful muscles. The thing is roughly humanoid in shape but its head is overlarge and its face looks more beast than man. Its large tongue hangs stupidly out of its mouth, thick strings of saliva dripping down onto its big gut. Its skin is thick and leathery, strong enough to blunt all but the sharpest weapons with its belly a light blue color while the rest of its thick hide is green.

Yet as monstrous as it is between its legs hangs an all too normal looking cock, only of immense size. She quickly looks away, afraid of what will happen if she looks too long at the creature’s penis.

For the troll IS a creature. Trolls are incredibly similar to Ogres, yet while Ogres are dumb they are sentient and capable of language. Trolls, however, are not. They are beasts that acted on pure instinct.

She starts to slowly back away, trying not to make any noise. The dumb towering beast hasn’t noticed her even as it stands looking practically straight at her, scratching its big belly as it chews its own tongue. If she can just get out of sight she’ll be able to turn and run away…

Novaoa stops with a huff, having backed into something large and hard. Before she can turn her head to see what it is a massive, leathery hand grabs her by the back of the neck, squeezing tightly and lifting her up off her feet. Looking up she sees the face of a second troll, drooling down on her, its animal eyes darting up and down her body and lingering on her breasts.

She wants to scream but holds back. She’s already shamed herself once today, she won’t do so a second time. She’ll face this fate that she has stupidly walked into with bravery.

The troll grunts and the one in the mouth of the cave finally notices her. With big lumbering steps that shake the ground it walks to her and the second troll, leaving her dangling in the air between the two beasts as the one behind her keeps held of her by the neck.

I have to fight, she thinks. But just as she is about to try and kick the beast before her it reaches forward with alarming speed and starts groping at her breasts. She starts to scream in disgust and protestation at the beast’s painful, clumsy gropes but her voice is quickly silenced. The troll holding her leans down, pressing its huge gross face into hers with an open mouth, sending its slimy leathery tongue into her mouth. She gags as the thing invades her throat, the taste making her want to retch.

Yet as revolted as she is her body is starting to respond to the other troll’s painful mauling of her overly sensitive breasts. Her heart is thundering in her chest, her nipples hard and craving attention. And between her legs her pussy is moistening, craving to be filled.

She fights to maintain control over her body, over its accursed impulse to give into any sexual demand made of it. Finally, she begins to struggle, kicking and punching at the two beasts pressed in around her, thrashing her limbs and trying to break free of the hand grasped tightly around her neck.

Amazingly she accomplishes her goal, falling to the ground on all fours. Quickly she looks up, hoping to see an opening to try and crawl away so she can get on her feet and run. But as soon as her eyes rise it is to find herself looking up at the half erect, vein covered and fat misshapen cock of the troll before her. The sight is enough to make her pause as her racial instincts to serve cock kick in, hampering what she fears is her one chance for escape.

The trolls grunt, each grabbing their cocks and waving them at Novaoa, signaling they want to fuck her as they continue to harden. There animalistic grunts are enough to let her mind clear for a moment, long enough for her to start to get up to dash away. But as soon as her body begins to move the troll before her lets go of its cock and clenches both its huge hands into fists, bringing them down onto the back of her head and knocking her down into the dirt.

For a moment there is only pain, then the world swims and spins around her. The blow has knocked her silly, left her disoriented from pain and unable to tell which way is up.

She is pulled back up onto all fours, the troll before her grabbing her hair and jerking her head up while the one behind her reaches down and grabs her wide hips, pulling them up so her large, plump ass is pointed up.

Blinking through the tears of pain in her eyes she looks up, the cock of the troll before her now fully erect: lumpy and vein covered and intimidatingly large, yet an unmistakably a cock. Her racial instincts kick back in, making her assume a position that leaves her ready to be fucked. The trolls grunt in pleasure and move in closer.

The one before her, still holding her hair, jerks her head up further making her yelp in pain as it kneels down. As soon as her mouth is open it moves closer, ramming its over sized cock into her mouth. For a moment she thinks that it won’t fit, but the thing grunts and presses its cock forward as it pulls her head back. Her mouth is forced open, her jaw flaring with pain. But eventually the thing’s disgusting cock is forced into her mouth.

While it crams its too large cock into her face it reaches down with its free hand, grabbing one of her tits and yanking it up, squeezing hard enough to send a jet of milk spraying from her nipple. The pain makes her want to scream which only serves to help her open her mouth wider so its fat cock can be shoved further into her mouth. Soon the thing’s large leathery fingers have grasped her nipple and it starts to pinch them hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Then it is painfully tugging on her tit hard enough to make her fear it will be ripped from her body as the beast grunts in pleasure and starts to fuck her face.

As this is happening the one behind her drops down onto its knees, grabbing its huge cock and rubbing its bulbous cock head up and down her slip. Then it starts to try and force its way into her cunt. Like with her mouth there is a moment where it feels that its cock is too big around to fit inside of her, but her body gives to the monstrous girth and painfully opens to let it press into her.

If her mouth weren’t full of monster cock she’d howl in pain and terror from the feel of having something so massive forced into her cunt. But her screams are only heard as muffled sounds of discomfort and choking gags as the troll before her forces its cock deeper into her throat.

A few moments later the two trolls both rise to their feet, lifting the helpless Nemorvian off the ground. She’s left dangling in the air, impaled by massive troll cock from both ends with only the fleshy shafts pounding into her painfully stretched holes keeping her in place.

Tears stream down her face and her overlarge breasts bounce wildly back and forth as they fuck her from both ends with the ferocity only a savage beast could muster. Yes, there is pleasure, but it is so mixed with pain that she scarcely notices it.

Before long both of the trolls have cum in her, massive torrential loads of thick, foul tasting yogurty monster cum that fills her from both ends. The cock ramming down her throat is so far in her that the flood of cum is forced straight into her gut, while the pressure in her cunt builds as her insides are quickly filled till the massive load of cum starts squelching out nosily around the thing’s huge shaft.

Yet neither of the beast’s orgasms slow them down and their cocks remain hard. They keep pounding her with savage abandon.

Novaoa has been fucked in almost every way imaginable, yet nothing like this has ever occurred to her. The animal ferocity of it threatens to break her body. No one has ever used her with so little care for her well being and no cocks so large have ever been forced so deep into her body.

At points during her ordeal she fears her body will not survive, yet somehow it does. Finally, after cumming in her countless times the two trolls pull away from her, letting the broken woman fall to the ground as cum explodes from her cunt and she rolls over to vomit a belly full of monster semen.

With satisfied grunts the two trolls turn form the broken women lying stunned on the ground and leaking cum, disappearing into their cave and leaving her behind, forgotten.

Yes, during the ordeal she had worried about her body. But as she lay on the forest floor, sore and sobbing and leaking cum, she realizes it is her mind that she should have been worried about.

And as she lay there she starts to convulse, cumming uncontrollably. It is as if her body had been too over stimulated during the savage fucking that it was unable to process the sexual pleasure of it and now her body was unleashing the bent up, forced pleasure all at once. These intense orgasms end up being far more devastating to her mind then the actual ordeal of the beasts fucking her.

Novaoa cums and cums and cums some more till the world around her starts to fade. She had thought herself so fierce, so mighty and strong. Falling into the trap in the bathhouse had made her question herself, but this? There may be no coming back from this. The trolls so easily subduing and savaging her seems to prove she isn’t fierce or strong, that she isn’t worthy or able to free her people. Above all this defeat shall leave a mental scar that she will carry her whole life.

Wallowing in shame and despair she fades from consciousness, in that moment not knowing or caring what will happen to her when she wakes…


* * *


Kilne and Amitkoa still sit in the pool of the bathhouse, transfixed by the lion’s head statue. They stare at it, awaiting more travelers to enter the place and decide how to use their curvaceous bodies. They simply sit, mindless and waiting. They stare blankly ahead, even as heavy foot falls sound from outside.

It is a single figure that enters the bathhouse, but it is no man. The figure is a woman, a gigantic woman who has to lean down and practically crawl through the doorway to enter. Once through she rises back to her feet, standing over ten feet in height.

The giantess simply stands at first, looming so tall her head touches the ceiling of the bathhouse. She isn’t just tall, but thick with wide, her body nothing but muscle and plump curves. Her breasts are massive, but their true size seems to be constrained and suppressed by the strips of leather clothing the imposing figure wears.

Her face is unsettlingly inhuman due to its immense size, yet it is pretty and the giantess wears a happy smile on her face that is already working to clear some of the stupefying magic that hangs in the moist, steamy air of the bathhouse. Her hair is platinum and although long is pulled up into a tight bun on the back of her head.

Slung over her back is a huge stuffed pack and a massive mace nearly the size of a normal Human but the giantess does not move to draw the weapon. Instead she starts moving forward, smiling happily with her eyes focused on the two hypnotized Nemorvians.

“There you are,” she says, her voice feminine yet a deep rumble that echoes loudly through the bathhouse.

When she reaches the two women sitting naked in the water she leans down, reaching to grab each of them in one of her massive hands. She lifts them with ease as if their weight is inconsequential to her mighty muscles.

As she rises they dangle limply in her grasp, their naked bodies dripping water. She quickly turns, leaning down as she approaches the door and carrying the two women out into the open daylight. She sets them down in the road, both women standing on their feet but taking no other action.

“You just wait here,” she says to them in a manner that makes it clear she understands they won’t really hear her words.

She turns to duck back into the bathhouse and quickly returns with their clothing and weapons held in her huge hands. She drops it all at their feet then stands tall before them, crossing her arms and smiling down at them.

“Poor things. Who knows what has happened to them since they went into this vile place.” She glances back at the bathhouse, her pretty features twisting in hatred for a moment. “It would please me to tear the building down, but the Queen has commanded us to take no actions that would reveal that her forces are here.”

She turns back to the two Nemorvians. “Well, best be fixing your minds.” She reaches her arms out before her, her fingers spread and her palms pointing towards their faces. She mutters arcane words as her hands begin to glow with blue energy that quickly flows out from her hands into the women’s heads. Then, as the energy starts to fade, they both blink their eyes.

“Be at peace, little Nemorvians,” the giantess booms soothingly. “I am Zomos and I have been sent to retrieve you.”

Kilne and Amitkoa look confused and disoriented, but when they glance up at the giantess looming before them then back to the bathhouse behind them some of that confusion disappears.

“You saved us from that place,” Amitkoa says, staring up at the giantess.

“Yes,” Zomos replies, smiling kindly down at her. “The bathhouses on the road to Iphasea are not to be trusted. Some are as they seem but others are like this one. They hold a powerful enchantment designed to leave attractive women ensorcelled so that they can be more easily captured and brought to the brothels of the capital. They are a trap to enslave women and turn them into sexual toys.”

She stands tall, glaring fiercely at the building. “But such perversions shall soon be put to an end for the mighty Fey Queen Faeven is gathering an army of woman liberators in these very woods. Once gathered we shall free all the women held in sexual servitude in Iphasea City.” As Zomos mentions the Fey Queen her face lights up with joy, as if the woman’s name were a charm that chases away bad feelings and thoughts.

Zomos looks back down at the two Nemorvians. “And those captured by this foul place’s charms are left playthings for any male traveler passing by.” It is a statement but by the way she looks into each of their eyes they also feel it is a question as well.

The young Kilne quickly breaks eye contact and looks away, shame on her pretty young face. But the older Amitkoa glares angrily up at the giantess. “It has happened to us,” she says, her words making clear her anger is not for the giantess. “I can’t remember it clearly but… There were men. And they used us.”

Zomos kneels down before them so she is more at their level, reaching her huge arms out to hold them protectively. “No man shall use you in such a way again.”

Kilne seems soothed by giantess but Amitkoa pulls away from the massive woman’s embrace. “Someone else promised us the same thing,” she says, wrapping her arms around her naked breasts protectively. Then her eyes open wide and she turns back around. “Where is Novaoa?”

Zomos blinks. “It was only you two in there,” she says dumbly. Then, snarling in anger she stands, slamming the palm of one hand into her forehead. “Stupid! There were supposed to be three of you! I was so excited to have found you I forgot all about that. Do you remember what happened to her?”

“No,” they both say in unison. Then Amitkoa speaks. “She was with us when we entered. And… and I know she was there when the men arrived. But everything after that is a foggy blur…”

“Perhaps they took her,” Kilne says, looking distraught and on the verge of tears.

“Maybe,” Zomos says, looking down the road that leads to Iphasea City. “If the men did take her some of the Queen’s other agents may rescue her before they reach the city. But sometimes women who fall into this trap wander off on their own. She may be lost in these woods. They hold many threats yet the Queen’s Fey are patrolling them even as we speak. They look for you three and any other women in need. And they work to ensure our presence is not discovered.”

As she speaks both Nemorvians bend down and start dressing, both eager to have their naked bodies covered and once more have their weapons at their side. “Her gear is here with ours,” Amitkoa says, “but it looks like our horses are gone.”

“That could mean anything,” the giantess replies, looking about suddenly as if afraid they are being watched. “It is not good for me to stay here long in the open. And you two are being hunted,” she says, looking down at them with concern.

“By Minotaurs,” Amitkoa says with a nod. “We’d been running and hiding for a long time before coming here.”

“These Minotaurs are known to us,” Zomos says, looking even more concerned. “They have an evil reputation, especially when it comes to dealing with women. And they are not a band of just three or four, their numbers are far greater. To encounter them with just us three would not go well for us. That is why you must come with me, deep into the forest where the Queen gathers her forces. The camp is hidden and will take many days to get to. But once there we shall be safe and your friend may already be there when we arrive.”

“And what is expected of us once we arrive?” Amitkoa demands.

“Then you will join our army,” she declares, “and you shall help us free the women of Iphasea City.”

Kilne places a hand on Amitkoa’s shoulder. “This is exactly what Novaoa wanted for us! We were never going to be able to do it alone.”

“Yes,” Amitkoa says, fresh determination on her face. “Although she wanted only to free the other Nemorvians. This Queen, though, strives for more. And that feels right to me. Hopefully we shall meet Novaoa again, if not with this Fey Queen’s army then in Iphasea city. If that is where she is then we will save her the way she saved us.”

“If she is there we shall save her,” Zomos says eagerly. “And every other woman held in sexual slavery. But now we must be on the move, come, into the forest. I shall lead the way.”


* * *


Novaoa wakes slowly. At first she feels only pain. But slowly the pain in her body begins to lessen as if being leached away by some magic. Then, little by little, she becomes aware of the faint sound of a flute playing. The music is strange, light and drifting to her on the wind. Like a whisper the world has only for her. There is soft, powerful magic interwoven with the music and she quickly realizes that it is the music making her body less sore, that the tune is healing her.

For a moment the healing falters as the memories of her ordeal at the hands (and cocks) of the Trolls returns to her. She falters, despair threatening to overtake her. She starts to sink back into unconsciousness but then the music grows louder. The memories are chased away and the healing continues.

Eventually she is able to open her eyes. Sun shines down through the trees overhead. She blinks, adjusting her vision to the brightness. Then, seeing what looms above her, she gasps. Quickly, her body still hurting, she scrambles up and away from the two Trolls looming above her. But as she moves away she realizes something is wrong, they aren’t chasing her.

She blinks again, really looking at them this time. Clearly the two beasts had returned to fuck her once more. Their huge monstrous cocks stand erect and ready. Yet the beasts are unmoving as if frozen in time.

As she thinks this the music seems to become louder. She turns her head, trying to pinpoint what direction it is coming from. But it’s impossible, it comes from every direction at once. But it is growing louder, closer.

Novaoa begins to get to her feet, feeling more refreshed with every moment that passes. As she stands she looks at the Trolls. They are motionless except for the drool pooling and then dripping out of their open mouths. The music is keeping her fear and despair at bay yet as she looks at them she knows that if they had gotten her a second time her mind would not have survived the ordeal. She shivers, ashamed she had been defeated so easily.

Think not on such things, a musical feminine voice says in her mind. Come away from this place so you can be truly safe. Follow the music to me brave Nemorvian, for I have searched long for you.

She turns, instinctively knowing which way to go. She is also aware that she would not have been able to resist the request of the voice she heard in her mind if she had wanted to, the magical music enchanting and enthralling her. But this does not fill her with dread. This is not an evil force and to surrender to it is safe, she can feel that.

Novaoa moves through the woods for some time, only vaguely aware of her surroundings. With every step the music grows louder and the more clear the music becomes the more healed she feels, in body and mind. Soon she is fully healed but the music continues to work its magic on her, leaving her feeling more powerful and brave then she’s ever felt before.

The trees around her are thick, their tangled branches and leaves making a ceiling above her that only faint light seeped through. Then, as she moves ever forward to the music filling her with might and bravery, the canopy above parts. A shaft of bright, almost blinding light shines down on her, making her halt. She is staggered by the warmth of the light and feels completely safe and protected.

A figure suddenly appears, floating down from the branches of the trees above her. It appears in the form of a naked Elven woman, small and thin with tiny perfectly round breasts and a small plump ass. She has wild, curly bright red hair. Her features are dainty and pointed, her ears elongated and tipped as like an Elf’s. But there is an other worldly air to the small woman, something more magical than even a High Elf radiates. And that power seems to flow forth from the forest around them, swirling around her with golden spasms and sparks of visible magical energy.

As Novaoa stares up in awe she realizes the small Fey woman is not floating but rather that she is hovering. Translucent, shimmering wings on her back flutter quickly, keeping her airborne. They reminded Novaoa of a butterfly’s wings, only they are more narrowed and pointed.

The Fey’s pretty eyes are filled with benevolent mischievousness and her small, narrow lips smile around the flute held up to her mouth. The flute itself seems to be made of wood but looks not as if it was carved but rather as if it had grown naturally and been plucked like a fruit from some magical tree. Glowing golden energy flows down through the wood and when it reaches the end it sparks out before it, for a moment the energy taking the form of musical notes before turning to golden vapor that flows swirling around her.

Fluttering, the woman moves the flute form her mouth yet the music seems to continue, fainter but still filling the air around her. “Novaoa the Nemorvian,” she says, her voice a soft feminine song as musical as the sounds that had come from her pipe, “we have searched long for you.”

Her wings flutter furiously as she slowly descends to the forest floor. Then, as her naked feet touch the dirt below her, her wings shudder and pull behind her, curling up into themselves and then moving flat against her back, disappearing from sight as they do so.

“I am Meadow and I come to bring you the tidings of Queen Faeven. She knows of your past, of your time of sexual servitude and how that drives you to free the other members of your race. She also desires this, but not just the Nemorvians but ALL women who are sexually enslaved by men.”

Novaoa is awed by the Fey woman’s presence and drops down onto her knees, bowing before her. She looks up, feeling nothing but warmth as they Fey smiles kindly down at her. “You have saved me,” Novaoa declares. “I owe you my life.”

“Then rise, warrior Novaoa, and come join my Queen’s war of liberation.”

“Yes,” Novaoa says, rising quickly to her feet. “I shall! I MUST. Please, just show me the way.”

“I shall,” Meadow replies, stepping closer. Novaoa notices that her feet only barely touched the earth bellow her and that small greenery sprouts from under her feet as she lifts them back up. “You are strong and the fire for revenge burns bright in your heart. Yet we cannot be too careful. Alaria is a world full of threats, many that would like nothing more than to see Queen Faeven brought low to suffer the same fate you once did. She must be careful and trust must be earned.”

“I don’t understand,” Novaoa says, furrowing her brow.

“I will take you to my Queen and at her feet you will be given a test that will make it so you can speak truth and only truth. In the past my Queen’s foes have sent agents to us disguised as allies. Till you can be tested you must be blindfolded, lest any forces working through you see where our army camps. And you shall be given no weapon till you are proved a true ally.”

“Alright,” Novaoa replies. “But these woods are dangerous. Will you protect me on our journey?”

The Fey woman laughs, the sound more music than voice. “Oh yes. Although much darkness flows through these woods the ancient power we Fey draw our strength from is very powerful here. With me by your side you need not fear anything.”

Then she steps closer, moving a hand towards Novaoa’s face and twirling it about as she works the magical forces swirling about her. A blindfold made of interwoven green leaves appears and wraps around Novaoa’s head, blinding her from the world around her.

Meadow places a hand on her shoulder, calming warmth radiating from it. “I will lead you. And before long you shall meet the Queen and be tested. The journey may take days, maybe even longer since you will be blind folded,” she tells Novaoa, “but my presence will alter your sense of time and it will seem but a few brief moments.” Then, with the Fey leading the way, they begin to march through the woods with purpose.


* * *


Jennenes Moonlight strides through the busy streets of Iphasea City, his royal guard surrounding him. Looking around he is proud of how large the city has grown during his life, although he begrudgingly admits to himself that is mostly his father’s doing. His “kingdom” had been little more than a few newly settled downs when his father had arrived in the region. But through brute force of willpower (and much magical help) he had gathered the towns together under his banner and grew Iphasea into a bustling metropolis.

Geographically Iphasea is a small kingdom. Aside from the capital there are only a handful of other towns of note under its banner and one could ride from one border to the other over a day or two. To the north is the Shadow Mountains, full of Dwarven cities built into and under the mountains. The eastern border is surrounded by a vast forest that no monarch yet lays claim to, although Jennenes has done much to prove his dominion over it. The expansion of territory is not so much about the forest itself but the thriving cities on the other side whose trade does much to enrich him.

Looking about he sees that the population of his capital city is a diverse mix of races. Many who come here that know an Elf is king are surprised to find Elves a small minority of the population. Jennenes’ father was not from here, he had simply come and claimed the land as his own.

Iphasea has a diverse population yet one race is far more numerous than any other: Humans. Their lives are so much shorter than most other races in Alaria yet it seems they are destined to populate their world with far greater numbers than any other.

Jennenes doesn’t mind. The Humans are easily manipulated or outright intimidated into doing what he wants them too. And their ambition is blind in a manner that often leaves them puppets of greater, more long-lived beings ambitions.

There is also the fact that their short lives hold a boon Jennenes’ father had discovered early on, one Jennenes plans to continue to take advantage of. He is a full blooded High Elf and as such his life will last entire generations of Humans. This will allow him to rule over them with an iron fist, time seemingly on his side while their short lives fluttered by him with almost no notice.

But it isn’t Humans that has brought him out into the city this day. It is Dwarves. Specifically the first shipment of Dwarven women from King Teddem that are to be sent to serve as sex slaves in the city’s brothels.

As Jennenes and his retinue of guards and attendants turn a corner and approach the open court of the slave market the banners of the new Dwarven king fly high above the crowd. He smiles seeing the simple yet elegant beauty of the new kingdom’s flag: a green background with the angry runic face of the Teddem clan’s ancestors on it. It had been their clan’s crest before the crowning of the new king, the only addition being a golden crown atop the scowling face’s head.

King Teddem’s mountain kingdom is geographically smaller even then his own, yet Jennenes knows the Dwarven cities are pressed close together leaving the two neighboring kingdom’s populations about equal. Their economies have always been heavily dependent on each other and fostering a close alliance with the new king an obvious step. Together they give each other’s royal line credibility. Before Jennenes had been a king because he said he was. But now they were two kings who said each was king of their land, they claim to their own lands supported by a foreign monarch.

Yes, it is a very beneficial alliance. Yet a thought tugs at Jennenes’ mind. They are both such small kingdoms, but if they were joined under one banner, one king, why that could be the beginning of a true empire!

Of course those are plans for later down the road. He’d need to wait and see if King Teddem is able to hold onto his crown and then see if the old Dwarf is happy with his small mountain kingdom or if he too desires expansion.

These thoughts are temporarily chased from his head as the murmuring crowd around the large carriages that are flying the new kingdom’s flag parts as his guards push past them.

The lead carriage is sturdy, imposing creation covered in thick metal armor with Dwarven guards sitting on top. Even the hearty ponies that pull it wear armored barding. The sight make Jennenes wonder if the Dwarven kingdom has as much problem with bandits as he has or if this carriage is simply meant to be a display of military might. There are certainly enough heavily armed troops manning it to cause trouble should they wish, something his royal guard quickly notices.

The armored carriage is quickly forgotten once Jennenes notices the large cart it has been pulled into the city. The cart carries a huge metal cage, the sturdy Dwarven bars keeping a horde of barely dressed Dwarven women imprisoned within. “My first shipment,” he says happily, pressing past his guards to take a closer look.

Inside the cage he can see that the women held there are filth covered and terrified. Some still wear fine Dwarven dresses, only they have clearly been ripped and torn off their bodies leaving only scraps of colorful fabric behind. Others seem to only have filthy rags tied around their plump, curvaceous bodies.

He knows the journey from the Shadow Mountains is a short one and that the King in the mountain had only claimed his crown in the last week. Yet these women all looked so scared and broken it was as if they had been held prisoner for months.

“Perhaps I’ve underestimated King Teddem’s cruelty,” he says, slowly walking around the cart and looking in at the women. They each cower and pull back from him as he passes. They must know who he is and why they have been brought here. And knowing that makes their cowering even more delicious to Jennenes.

“A good haul,” he mutters to himself. All of them are plump, wide women. He knows to many Human’s a Dwarf woman looks fat. But even with that prejudice there will be many into such bodies and even more willing to overlook their thick, wide builds if it means taking a turn with a woman with such a big fat ass or such huge, heavy breasts.

“Oh yes, you all will make me very rich,” he says, reaching in and grabbing once of the women’s plump breasts. As he squeezes her flesh she snarls and pulls back, trying to kick his hand.

Two of his armored guards step forward to punish the woman but before they can a sinister looking Dwarf with a dirty beard is beside him, jamming some kind of thick shaft in at the woman. Jennenes sees that it is tipped with a glowing, golden metal and as it slams into the slave woman magical energy sparks, making her howl in pain then fall to the floor of the cart as she curls up into a fetal position and begins to sob. The other women try to pull back away from her, obviously afraid they will be jabbed with the rod of pain next.

“They’ll need some breaking in, Your Majesty,” the Dwarf with the rod says. “King Teddem was confident you and those that run your brothels will know how. My king also wanted to show you his good will and most of these sluts have been branded with a rune that will make it so they do as they are told, although even with this most will need training to perform well in u, ‘unique’ tasks required of one working in a brothel. These were mostly noble women a couple of weeks ago and they were not accustomed to following the orders of others nor doing indecent things, especially with members of other races.”

Jennenes nods and mutters his thanks, telling the Dwarf to relay the sentiment to his king. But it is clear he has grown distracted, staring intently at one specific Dwarven woman. He points to her and she quickly averts her face, as if trying to hide it now that she has seen the king noticing her.

“Tell me what you know about that one,” he demands.

The gruff Dwarf comes to stand closer to him, looking where the Elven king is pointing. Then a wide smile spreads across his face, his thick dirty beard shifting under the drastic change in expression. “Ah, noticed her did you? My king wondered if you would. He made sure the runic power that was branded onto her flesh was strong, strong enough to break her will. Can’t see it now since she’s cowering like a mountain rat, but it’s on her lower back, just above the crack on her ass. My king had thought about branding her mighty tits with it but thought it might decrease her worth.”

Jennenes continues to stare with burning intensity at the woman as she curls up and tries to crawl deeper into the mass of filth covered Dwarven women away from the king. As she does so her massive breasts drag on the cart’s dirty floor, causing her to stop and grab her arms under them protectively. Her breasts are by far the largest of all the women in cart and would have eventually made her stand out, but it was the woman’s face that had made Jennenes notice her first. It is a familiar face.

“How did she come to be in the cart? Why has she been sent to me in this manner?” he demands. The woman looks up at him, fear and despair on her face. The expression makes a smile tug at his lips. It is exciting to see such a different expression on the woman’s face as he remembers how the last time he saw her it seemed only capable of the one single expression.

“The newly forged crown had barely been placed on King Teddem’s head for a day before it was revealed this fowl creature was plotting to kill and replace him. Her cowardly followers tried to take the king in his bed chambers as he slept. Armed only with a candelabra from his nightstand King Teddem was able to fend off the first attackers, disarming one. As soon as a weapon was in his hands he slayed the men there to kill him. But he didn’t kill her.

“Instead he called all the important clan members to court as he sat upon his throne. He had his guards rip her clothing from her as he sat and passed judgment on her. He swore oaths against her even though she was of his own flesh. The book of grudges was brought before the king and her name was written as a curse, all her standing as a member of both the new royal family and as a member of the Teddem clan removed. Outside the book of grudges her name was never to be uttered again in his kingdom. From that day forth she would be nameless, perhaps the greatest humiliation a Dwarf can face.

“But the king was far from done with her, his wrath so mighty. As she was branded with the slave rune before the full court the king declared her ingenious plotting would be rewarded. For a moment there had been hope on her face. The king revealed it was her mind that had concocted the plan to break the clans to his will by sending their women to be slaves in your brothels. All eyes turned to her, hatred burning in most of them as many in the room had relatives or wives waiting to be brought to you. He then declared since it was her genius plot that had done much to win him the throne it would only be right if she was sent to meet the same fate, to experience just how truly effective a ploy it was.”

The Dwarf looks in at the cowering woman holding her breasts protectively. “The former Lady Teddem no longer holds any claim to the Teddem clan name nor the royal lineage. She has been made nameless, a nearly worthless sack of flesh that’s only real value are her huge tits. They are a gift to you from my king, to do with as you please.”

“Tell King Teddem,” Jennenes says slowly, grinning happily at the terrified Dwarven woman, “that this pleases me greatly. Any favor he requires he need only ask.”

He turns then, snapping his fingers and calling forth one of the attendant’s that has accompanied him. “Auction off all the Dwarven women to the highest bidders. Begin at once, it is clear the brothel owners knew of their forthcoming arrival and that they are already gathered here in anticipation. The coin earned from their sale is to be split evenly between my coffers and King Teddem.”

Jennenes turns to the Dwarf slave driver. “Wait till the auction is over, you’ll have chests of coin to place in that armored carriage of yours and bring back to your king.” The Dwarf bows and backs away.

“Sell them all,” Jennenes repeats, “except THAT one.” He points to the former Lady Teddem and stares directly into her fear filled eyes. “It is to be brought to the palace and cleaned up. After that take it to my chambers, but keep it naked. It will be my personal fuck-toy.” He takes a step closer to the cart, staring at her hungrily. “It will be my new fuck-toy till I grow bored of it or, more likely, till it breaks.”


* * *


“Are we getting close?” Kilne asks as she moves a log closer to the fire and sits on it to warm herself.

Night has fallen and with it comes not just darkness, but cold as well. The two Nemorvians had regained their clothing and weapons but the rest of their gear had been on their horses. Thankfully the giantess wore a pack on her back with more gear than a pack mule would have been able to carry, so the three women had warm, soft bedding to spare.

“No,” Zomos replies, squatting down by the fire. “We’ve at least one more night ahead of us. But we are making good time.”

Amitkoa pokes at the fire with a stick, frowning. “Doesn’t feel like,” she grumbles. “Feels almost like we have been frequently doubling back and going in circles. Like you don’t want us to know where we are going.”

Zomos blushes and looks embarrassed. “Well… you might be onto something. I trust you two but we can’t be too careful. If you turn out to be infiltrators planted by the Queen’s enemies we wouldn’t want you escaping and leading the rest of them to the camp. There is also the chance we could be being followed. Traveling this way will make that harder.”

“Perhaps your mighty Queen is just paranoid,” Amitkoa says sulkily.

“No,” Zomos replies firmly. “She is not. I’ve served her for many years now. She fights against men, and some women, possessed by a strange force that only in this age has begun to corrupt Alaria. In fact that is what she calls it. ‘The Corruption’, as if it is something that has a will of its own. She says even the gods are not to be trusted as many have fallen under this perverse power’s influence.”

Kilne looks up at her with wide eyes. “You know this to be true?”

“Yes,” Zomos says, averting her eyes.

“How do you know this thing,” Amitkoa demands.

Zomos stares at the ground. “I do not like to talk about it. Speaking of the thing brings it to the surface. If I let it enter my… my…” her voice trails off, her expression falling and going blank. For an awkwardly long time she sits, staring at the ground. Then, slowly, her large eyes wander up and she starts to stare into the fire.

Both of the Nemorvians shift uncomfortably. The powerful giantess looks as if she’s suddenly been entranced. The way she stares at the fire reminds them too much of the way they had stared at the lion’s head in the bathhouse. With this on their mind they both nervously avert their eyes from the flickering flames.

“Zomos,” Kilne says, starting to stand up to approach her.

“No,” Amitkoa hisses, throwing her arm out to hold her friend back. “Something is not right here.” Her other hand falls to her hip where her sword rests in its scabbard. She grabs hold of the handle, pulling it out slightly.

Zomos shifts, looking up at them. They both flinch when they see her face. The expression she wears is one of utter stupidity and her eyes look as if all the intelligence behind them has gone. The giantess opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Instead she simple begins to moan stupidly. “Duuuuuuuuh,” she says, drool starting to run out one side of her large mouth.

“Zomos, what is wrong with you?” Kilne demands, pulling free of Amitkoa’s arm and getting all the way up on her feet.

As she approaches the giantess looks at her, furrowing her brow as if she is struggling to understand what she sees. “P-r-e-t-t-y c-o-w,” she says slowly, sounding like a child who has only recently learned to speak. “Big cow tits,” she says, pointing to Kilne’s breasts. Then she smiles and starts laughing, sounding like a woman born an idiot.

Kilne looks back at Amitkoa, concern on her face. “What has happened to her?”

“Zomos get dumb,” the giantess booms. Then she slowly rises to her feet. “Get dumb cause of curse. Get dumb and pussy get hot. Needy pussy now.” She grabs her pants and pulls them down, stepping out of them as they fall to around her ankles.

She then falls back onto her ass. “Pussy,” she booms stupidly as she spreads her massive legs. Her thick meaty thighs part to reveal the largest cunt either of the Nemorvians has ever seen, larger than they had even imagined possible. They also see that the giantess is hairless like an Elf, something that makes her pink pussy look even larger.

“Pussy tingle,” Zomos booms louder, starting to sloppily finger herself. It is like her motor control has been left diminished to the point of uselessness and her brain sapped of nearly all intelligence. She jabs her fingers at her cunt as if trying to masturbate but only pokes herself making her blurt out loud groans of pain.

“Pussy tingle. Need cummy-cum!” She turns to the two Nemorvians, her big intelligence-less eyes sparkling as she looks at them. “Pretty big tit cow women come eat Zomos pussy,” she says, spreading her legs wider open. “Use hands, mouths, give her cummy-cum!”

She then rips her top open, her mammoth breasts spilling out into view. The Nemorvians have breasts that, if on a Human, would have seemed unnatural and comically sized. But this giantess’ breasts, they are titanic in size and it is now apparent that her clothing has been tightly squeezing and suppressing their truly staggering size. And they aren’t just large but wide and sag heavily down her front so they rest in her lap as she sits poking at cunt.

Zomos has started masturbating although she does so with so little skill there is no chance the huge woman will ever be able to get off on her own. She looks at them with stupid, pleading eyes. “Help Zomos. Too dumb to make cummy-cum! Need pretty cow girls’ help. Need cummy-cum for brain work right.”

“What do we do,” Kilne asks, alarmed and confused.

Amitkoa is by her side, her hand no longer on her sword. “I think this is what she didn’t want to talk about. She must be suffering from some kind of bimbofication curse!” she grabs Kilne’s arm and turns her friend towards her. “Gods! WE did this to her by making her talk about it. We have to help her!”

“How,” Kilne asks, despondent as she looks at the giantess drooling on her own tits as she pokes at her giant hairless pussy.

“She told us. She has to cum. WE have to make her cum.”

Both Nemorvians take a deep breath then begin to undress. This is something they know how to do and do well. Yes, most of the customers they served in the brothels were men, but they had served many women as well. And often what a man wanted was to watch two or more women together.

They peel their clothing off then move towards the giantess, cautiously at first. She looks down at them, grinning dumbly. “Cows come make Zomos cummy-cum?”

“Yes,” Amitkoa says soothingly.

Both Nemorvians move up to her, firmly pressing her onto her back. They are thankful that the giantess follows their lead, for they doubt even together they would have had the strength to push her down had she resisted.

Zomos lies back onto the ground with a heavy thud, her mammoth breasts bouncing and jiggling as her body impacts the ground. Even as they shift to flown down the sides of her torso the majority of their mass remains on top of her chest, two giant fleshy mountains of tit meat. Amitkoa climbs the giantess’ belly and wraps her body around one of the massive breasts, taking the huge nipple into her mouth and starting to suck on it.

Meanwhile Kilne crawls between her legs and starts working the woman’s giant pussy. She places her open mouth around her large, swollen clit and starts sucking on it while she uses her hands to rub at her huge, moist labia. As she grows more comfortable she ends up fisting the huge cunt hole that is leaking a steady flow of pungent giant pussy juice. She ends up fisting the giantess, her arm easily sliding into the woman up to the elbow.

Zomos lies on the ground thrashing about under the two smaller women, moaning in pleasure. She grabs Amitkoa and pulls her up off her breast so that she can kiss her. Perhaps if she had retained her intelligence and motor skills kissing would have been possible between their drastically different sized mouths. But because she is so dumb all the giantess does is open her maw and drag her large wet tongue across the Nemorvians face.

Ten minutes later the three women are still busy, their naked bodies thrashing and interwoven in the slowly dying light of the fire. The air is cold around them but the combined warmth of their naked bodies is enough to keep them heated. It is clear that Zomos is a woman who does not cum easily but as the minutes pass the two Nemorvians are learning what it is her body craves as well as adjusting to the giantess’ size. They are confident they can make her cum, they just know it could take some time.

They are still working her body as the flames of the fire die to become faintly glowing embers. But the small clearing they are in allows the moon light in the night sky to illuminate the world around them and what their eyes cannot find their hands can.

Zomos had saved them and now they will save her, even if it takes all night…


* * *


“The Dwarf that brought you to my city explained that you are no longer Lady Teddem. You have been cast out of your clan, made nameless,” Jennenes says to the naked Dwarf kneeling before him. He too is naked aside from his crown, yet he moves confidently as if wrapped in magical armor and the glowing tattoos that cover much of his body suggest such a thing DOES protect him.

Her body is hunched over, her huge breasts pressing into her bent knees as she bows before the king of Iphasea. On her lower back, just above the crack of her ass, a Dwarven rune is burnt into her skin and it glows dimly. He’d seen that when he gave the woman a command the rune burnt more intensely, working its Dwarven magic on her and ensuring she followed the order.

“So what shall I call you?” he asks. Silence is her only answer, that and a soft, almost imperceptible sob. “When you last were before me you proclaimed loudly that your huge tits were the marvel of the Shadow Mountains. But the Shadow Mountains have cast you out, your name never to be uttered again except as a curse. You are mine now, my property. My toy. And as such I suppose I have the right to rename you.”

He pauses, staring down at her with lustful fire in his eyes. “For now you shall be ‘Fuck-Meat’ and nothing more. But perhaps you will prove you can serve as more than a night’s fleshy diversion. Often when I take a comely woman slave as a toy she fails to last more than a night. But you are a Dwarf and everyone says Dwarves are made of stronger stuff than most any other race.”

Slowly the King walks around the naked Dwarf. He holds a riding crop in one hand and is slapping it into his palm in a slow, steady, repetitive pattern. “What say you, Fuck-Meat, does your temporary name please you?”

Suddenly the woman gets up on her knees, turning to face Jennenes with rage and hatred in her eyes. “It does NOT,” she snarls, punctuating the reply with a hate filled, “Your Majesty.”

“Defiance. Disrespect. I had hoped for no less,” he says calmly as he steps behind her. He then places a bare foot on her back and forces her back over, leaving her large wide fat ass sticking up at him. He takes his foot away then strikes her ass with the riding crop, the fleshy slap echoing through his bed chamber along with the woman’s howl of pain.

“Disobedience shall be rewarded with punishment,” he says coolly, walking around to her front and reaching down with the riding crop. He places it under her face and lifts it up, forcing her to look at him.

There are tears in her eyes but the defiance still burns brightly. “Why do you not just order me to answer you?” she asks. “The rune on my backside will force me to comply.”

He smiles and cocks his head to the side. “Where is the fun in that? If you are to be controlled I prefer it to be with my own magic, although I do enjoy that you have been made a slave with your own people’s magic. It is a delicious, perverse irony I very much appreciate.”

“I do have a command for you, though,” he says, pausing for a moment before continuing. “The Dwarf that delivered you said the rune was not the only magical punishment your father placed on you, but he did not elaborate. What else did King Teddem do to punish his traitorous daughter?”

She grinds her teeth and glares up at him, obviously not wanting to answer. But a moment later the rune on her backside begins to glow. She moans and falls forward as if having been struck on the back of the head.

Bent over, her face pressed into the ground, she answers him. “He had the runic priests enchant my breasts,” she says, her voice muffled as she speaks into the floor. “I had promised the men who were to kill my father that they would be able to use my breasts the way you I had allowed you to. To punish me for using my breasts to incite rebellion my father had the runic priests put a powerful curse on them. Part of the curse makes it so should I ever have any children they will all be female, as will any of their children on and on down my bloodline for as long as it lasts. Any children I have will have the same curse I have.”

“My breasts…” she falters, sobbing slightly before continuing. “My breasts sensitivity has been increased by magnitudes that would make Ynara, goddess of fat tits blush. Even now as I am bent over with my breasts pressed between my chest and knees I feel pleasure that makes my pussy leak. No one has yet to really grope me but I fear it would force my body to climax instantly. And the pleasure from my cursed breasts… It is pleasure, yes, but it feels forced and comes with a tinge of pain.”

She then starts sobbing, her whole body quaking. “I am ruined, utterly brought low.”

“Indeed,” Jennenes says, grinning madly. “I’m going to have so much fun with you. But first, I wish to test something. Up on your feet, Fuck-Meat. Then bend over so your back is flat and your huge cursed tits hang down below you.”

Still sobbing the woman now known as Fuck-Meat gets to her feet. She places her hands behind her back then bends over till her body is at a nearly perfect ninety-degree angle, leaving her huge tits dangling below her. They sway slightly as she struggles to stop crying. “Now what,” she asks, staring at the floor. It is clear that being made to reveal the curse has done much to smash her defiance, at least for the time.

“Now,” Jennenes says, placing the tip of his riding crop on the back of her head, “I want you to start swinging them from side to side. I want them swinging back and forth like the pendulum of one of those curious windup timepieces your people make.”

She starts to move her body, almost imperceptibly so. But the results are immediate and pronounced. Her huge, heavy, dangling breasts begin to sway from side to side. Each time they swing back from one side they swing further in the other direction, then back further the other way.

“Now I want you to watch them,” he tells her firmly. “Watch them swing from side to side. Your eyes are to follow them and you are to think of nothing but your tits and how you are my property and how you will do everything I tell you without argument. Stare at your swinging breasts, feel the magical flowing through them. For the curse upon them was created with powerful magic that can be used not just to fuel that curse. Let it seep up from your breasts and into that pathetic mind of yours, washing away all independent thought. Watch your tits swing and become a servant to them, and through them me.”

He steps back, smiling as he watches the Dwarf swing her massive breasts from side to side. Jennenes can see her head moving from side to side as she watches them. He stares intensely at her body, noticing the slight change in her muscles. They were clenched tight but slowly they begin to relax.

Inhaling deeply he can smell and taste the powerful magic emanating from the curse on her breasts. He reaches out to that energy, bends its power to his well to stupefy her mind. His smile grows as he feels the Dwarf being hypnotized by her own cursed breasts.

“Now stand up straight,” he commands as he returns to stand behind her. The rune above her ass glows as she follows the order but not as brightly as in the past. Its magic doesn’t need to work as strong to control her actions now that her mind has been enchanted a second time to follow his orders. And knowing she is being magically enthralled to him in two ways brings him great pleasure that makes his cock begin to swell.

“Now to my bed. Climb up on it and lay on your back, with your ass on the very edge. Good! Now spread your stubby legs open and grab them, pulling them back so your formally royal cunt is exposed to me.”

He stands, staring at her. She is on her back, her huge breasts sagging heavily down the side of her body and looking impressively, cock hardeningly large. Her thick thighs are spread apart, her legs pulled back. This leaves her pussy pointing up in the air. It’s covered in thick hair, although the pink fleshy folds of her inner labia stick free from the mass of wiry pubic hair.

There are times when the fur that covers some of the other race’s cunts pleases him, but this is not one of those times. She had denied him her pussy during their last meeting and he had thought he’d wish to make ample use of it given the chance. But seeing it he realizes he has no interest in it.

“What a pathetic, smelly, hairy cunt you have. Had you been a loyal daughter it might have been used by a man of great standing to bring royal babies into the world. Your father is old and might not have sired any children after you. Had you just been patient that crown would have been yours and the mewling brats you pushed out of your body destined to become kings or queens in time. Instead you lacked the patience a true monarch requires and now that cunt is useless. At the very least I know I’ll never use the thing. Your tits are what interest me. And your mouth-pussy. And MAYBE one day your asshole. But your cunt? No, it shall never know the pleasure of my royal cock inside of it.”

She lay with her head turned to the side, her expression blank. It seems as if she doesn’t hear his words but he knows better. The REAL her is still in there, fully conscious and hearing every word he says. He has no doubt the former noble, who had probably never had a harsh word said to her because of her standing, would be in tears where her mind not so addled and thoroughly controlled at the moment.

“But those tits, they truly are a marvel,” he says, dropping the crop to the floor and climbing up onto the bed. He presses her legs down and pushes her hands aside, climbing on top of her and sitting on her plump body so that his impressively sized cock rests between her huge breasts. She simply lies motionless under him, waiting for him to use her in any way he pleases. In that moment she doesn’t even seem a person, she seems more a living sex toy, a thought that brings him great pleasure.

With a roll of his hand through the air magical energy gathers in his palm and turns to a thick slathering of lube as he uses that hand to grab his hard cock. He also slathers much of it between her breasts until most of the slippery stuff is gone from his hand. Then, moving up into her breasts, he grabs her tits and presses them up and around his cock.

He moans in delight as they envelope his royal manhood, utterly hiding it from sight. As he presses them in further around his hard shaft she shudders under him, moaning. It’s a sound that says she is experiencing great and sudden pleasure but discomfort as well. He presses her tits in harder and she sucks in, gasping in pleasure then moaning in pain.

“My, they really have been cursed,” he says happily as he starts to slowly move his hips. As his cock slides smoothly up through her pressed breast-flesh she moans louder, closing her eyes tight and thrashing her head from side to side.

“The pleasure!” she moans as he picks up speed, fucking her tits a little faster. “It’s so intense! I’m— I’m already cumming!

He feels her back arch slightly under his weight and feels her grinding her thick thighs together behind him. It only fills him with more cruel-spirited lust and soon he is pounding her tits hard and fast.

“By all the gods,” she screams, convulsing under him. “Cumming so hard!” She gasps, wincing in extreme discomfort. “Each orgasm starting before the last starts to fade. Not a moment of rest from my body! My tits are already sore, my pussy already aches!”

His only response is to lean forward and press his body into her huge tits, pounding them more vigorously.

“Cumming! Cumming so hard! The pain! The pleasure! So much! I can’t endure it! I can’t… passing out…”

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, letting go of one of her tits and holding his hand up. It instantly starts to steam with glowing red energy. He presses the hand down on her face and she gasps, inhaling the red magic. Her eyes shoot open as her body is forced back into total wakefulness. “You will have no rest till I am done with you,” he declares, removing his hand from her face.

She looks up at him, the fear and despair in her eyes so extreme it pushes him over the edge and he cums in her tits. For just a moment there is relief on her face then she realizes he hasn’t slowed and is still pounding her tits, only now his cock is lubricated with a thick load of cum.

“Scream for me, Fuck-Meat,” he growls as he savagely pounds her tits. “Scream and maybe this won’t last all night.”

She screams. She screams loud and long as orgasm after orgasm is titfucked from her body. She screams till she is horse and no sound leaves her lips. She cums till she is drenched in sweat and so sore she can barely move, a wet patch on the bed from the ample juices forced from her cunt after every orgasm. Only then, only after Jennenes has cum in her tits multiple times, does he pull away.

His cock is a cum covered mess but it’s nothing compared to the mess in his Fuck-Meat’s tits. He stands at the end of the bed admiring his handy work. She is limp, breathing heavily. If not for the enchantment keeping her awake she’d have long ago passed out. Even with its magic flowing through her the woman’s eyes are barely open. She is exhausted near to the breaking point, just where Jennenes wants her.

“Up, Fuck-Meat,” he commands. “Off the bed and down onto your knees before your one true King.”

Slowly, shaking from weakness, she rises. Her huge cum covered breasts shift as she sits up, their shifting weight almost sending her tumbling to the side. But her master has given her a command and two powerful magics work through her mind and body ensuring she follows the order.

She rises from the bed and is on her feet for only a brief moment. Then she collapses down onto her knees, her huge cum covered tits bouncing heavily as she lands, their shifting weight almost enough to knock her all the way over.

Jennenes steps close to her, grabbing her hair and jerking her head back. Then he grabs his cum covered cock and slaps it down onto her face. It looks long and fat on her stout Dwarven features, the shaft easily longer then the height of her face. He lets go of his cock and starts moving his hips slightly from side to side, dragging it slowly across her face and over her nose then back the other direction.

“Smell it,” he tells her. “Open your stupid mouth-cunt and lick it. Taste my cum. Taste my cock. This is your god now, your meaning for existence. You and your tits will serve my cock and give it any pleasure it wants from you.”

She licks at his shaft and inhales the scent of it. He presses his cock against her face, smashing her nose up so that she snorts as she inhales the odor of his cum covered cock.

Then, without warning, he pulls back, grabbing his cock and pressing it down into her mouth. As soon as it slips between her lips her grabs the back of her head and thrusts hard into her. He angles her head so that his cock can slam down into her throat. She chokes and gags while weakly pressing against his legs to try and pull free. But she is too weak and he too strong. He holds her there, making her choke on his cock.

“This is the natural and most beautiful relationship a woman can have with a cock,” he purrs, enjoying the feel of all the thick saliva she’s half vomiting up running down his shaft and dripping coolly from his balls.

After a long time he pulls his cock out of her mouth. He keeps hold of her hair so that she can’t double over. A normal woman would have still been choking, gasping for air as her sore throat revolts from such abuse. But she does not. Her body is limp and only remains upright because he holds her hair.

Jennenes moves back in so his cock is once more places on her face, his balls by her chin and his shafting running up the length of her face beside her nose and resting on her forehead. His dick glows slightly, faint sparking red magical energy that seems to be emanating out and flowing up into her eyes. After a few seconds they begin to glow red too as the magic gathers inside of her.

“Here you are, Fuck-Meat. Blank. Mindless. Everything that makes you ‘you’ beaten down and ground to nothing by my cock. You are completely cocknotized. A blank slate to be made into what I want. But what shall I make you into?”

The question hangs in the air as her face remains expressionless, her eyes glowing as energy flows from the Elven king’s cock into her mind. He has to decide, not this moment but before he pulls away from her and breaks the magical bond between his cock and her mind.

“But what shall I make you into?” he repeats, pondering the question.


* * *


Zomos leads the way through the forest, at times having to press trees aside to fit between them, Kilne and Amitkoa following close behind her.

“Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” Amitkoa asks.

CAN we do that without making you fall into that spell again?” Kilne quickly asks.

The giantess takes a slow, deep breath. “Yes, we can talk openly now. Thanks to you two.” She doesn’t look back and they can sense the shame the huge woman feels at what happened. “Orgasms keep the curse at bay. It was reckless of me to go so long without. But… I’ve been alone in the woods for days, searching for you. And pleasuring myself only does so much.”

Kilne dashes forward to keep pace beside the giantess, looking up at her. “Are you saying if we help you get off regularly your… uh, ‘affliction’ will be held at bay?”

Blushing slightly the Zomos looks down at her. “Yes. Tonight when we make camp I’d appreciate…” she trailed off, looking away again.

“You saved us,” Amitkoa replies, “you need only ask.”

“The thing is,” the giantess says, “when I am not bimbofied I like to watch rather than take part, at least when you little folk are involved.”

Kilne and Amitkoa look at each other and smile. “Everyone has a kink,” the owner of the last brothel they had both worked at was fond of saying. “Discover it and you will have a servant, not a client.”

“We know how to put on a show,” Amitkoa says. There is a hint of pride in the statement, but also shame and regret.

“I am sure you do. But I have very, uh, specific tastes.” Again she looks away from the two women doing their best to keep pace beside her huge strides.

“Tell us,” Kilne says soothingly.

“I have a device,” Zomos says, blushing once more. “It’s a kind of faux cock. It’s made so it can strap onto one of you small women.”

“We know how to use that kind of item,” Amitkoa says, memories of her former life flooding back into her mind. “And we have experience putting on a show together using one.”

“Then tonight when we make camp you will… help me keep my ailment at bay? I can watch you two as you use the item, one of you pretending to be a man. You understand I will need to pleasure myself to the sight?”

“Oh yes, we understand,” Amitkoa says. “It will be our pleasure to help you get off that way.”

Zomos breaths a deep sigh of relief. “Come, let us continue on our way. If we make good time before making camp tonight we will be to the Queen’s hidden camp not long after starting out tomorrow. And I will not have to fear that my curse will overcome me.”

“No,” Amitkoa says, “you will not.”

She looks over at Kilne and sees that the younger Nemorvian is glowing with pride that they will be able to help their savior. But Amitkoa is worried. The curse on Zomos is powerful, debilitating, and perversely humiliating. If there really is some powerful dark force that this Fey Queen works against surely this is only a hint at what it is capable of. The thought makes her shiver. Perhaps joining these women is not the smartest move, perhaps doing so will leave them in even greater danger then they were before.

“If only Novaoa was here,” she mumbles. “She’d know what to do.” Hopefully, though, they will arrive at the Queen’s hidden camp and find her already there.


* * *


Since her eyes are covered Novaoa has to imagine the world around her. Everywhere there is happy voices and feminine laughter filling the air. Much of it is the lyrical, magical laughter of Fey women but interspersed through it all is far more normal laughter. Humans and Elves and Dwarves, at least so she imagines so. It is hard to tell from just the sound of laughter and happy speech. One thing, though, is certain: every voice is female. There is no men in this camp, at least not out in the open.

“We are almost to the Queen,” Meadow says, leading Novaoa. “The moment of truth approaches.”

The air around her slowly changes. The cool breeze blowing through the forest feels cooler, yet she is left feeling as warm as if she was lying naked in the sun. There is a thrumming energy as well. She feels it swirling around her, drifting towards something… A great power, something more than mortal but not quit a god. It grows stronger with every step and the energy lifts her spirits, making her feel as if there is only joy and kindness in the world. It seems to be washing away the harsh memories of her life, even the vibrant recent memories of the Trolls.

“We are here,” Meadow says, making Novaoa stop.

She is still blindfolded yet she knows the queen of the Fey sits before her. She can feel her so intensely that she almost sees her.

Then she feels Meadow’s small fingers untying her blind fold before stepping away from her. Novaoa keeps her eyes closed as the thing falls from her face. A gust of wind picks up and she sensed the leaves blowing apart, drifting up into the air and dissipating back into nothingness. She opens her eyes and looks up, seeing the moment their green shapes lose form, melting in to wisps of magical energy that floats away.

They are standing in a clearing, the sun shining down more brightly then she has ever seen, yet it does not blind her. Her eyes don’t even need to adjust to the light. Looking to her left she sees a perfectly clear pond, its surface glistening as the light reflects off its surface. Fish swim and dance just below the surface and the water that swirls around them glows with magical energy.

This is a magic place, an ancient place untouched by few since its birth. Yet the power here is nothing compared to what flows off the woman sitting before her.

Slowly Novaoa turns to face Queen Faeven. As she does the power emanating off of her hits her in cascading waves that makes her feel weak in the knees. She drops down, bowing before the Fey Queen, awed by her power and beauty. She has to avert her eyes, unable to look up again till permitted to.

“You may see me, child,” Queen Faeven says. Her voice is a song of feminine perfection and holds more power than the most powerful bardic song.

Novaoa looks up, awed even further as she fully takes in the sight of the Queen. She is a Fey creature, yet she is more than the small wispy winged women that flutter around them. Her body is more human and far more curvaceous. She has pleasingly thick limbs and wide, alluring hips.

All of this is clearly on display as the woman is naked, wearing only a translucent golden crown that shines radiantly as if it is made of refined sunlight. Novaoa blinks, struggling to keep looking at the woman. She glistens and glows as if she is more magic than physical being. Her face is the most beautiful thing Novaoa has ever seen, so perfect that it is beyond comparison to mortal beauty. And when she smiles down at Novaoa the Nemorvian feels all anger, hate, and fear inside of her dissolve.

“I sense greatness in you,” Queen Faeven says, rising with elegant smoothness from the large rectangular rock that serves as her throne. As she had sat on it the rock’s surface had been smooth and bare, but as soon as she lifts up form it winding vines grow up from the earth and covered it in fresh greenery.

Novaoa feels herself pushed back as the Queen of the Fey rises and takes a step towards her. There is so much power… And her body! It is… perfect. Every curve radiates a powerful sexual perfection. From the curve of her hips to the swelling of her breasts, breasts that Novaoa now realizes were almost as big as her own. The Queen has a body that is indecent in its proportions like that of a fertility goddess, yet it sparkles with pure innocence.

“Yes,” the Queen says, moving closer to Novaoa, flowers sprouting up as her feet leave the ground as she takes each step forward. “My body is divinely perfect, desired by all that see it.”

Novaoa blushes. The Queen has read her mind somehow and her own thoughts shame her.

“Do not be ashamed. Sexual attraction is a natural, wondrous thing. It brings pleasure and emotional bonding and can bring new life into the world.”

She steps ever closer to Novaoa, who suddenly feels the need to stand. She rises to her feet and is left standing eye to eye with the Fey Queen yet she feels as though the woman towers above her.

Queen Faeven reaches out and places a hand on Novaoa’s naked shoulder. Warmth flows from her hand making Novaoa feel light headed and giddy with peaceful delight. “I can see into your past, see that the sexual things that have swirled around you have not been pure and loving. They have been full of greedy selfishness and above all the perverse taint of The Corruption. I gladdens my heart to know you had already taken up the battle against such perversion. I feel the uncorrupted gods work their will through you, that you have been brought to us for a reason.”

Novaoa starts to nod, transfixed by the Queen’s eyes.

“She must still be tested,” a deep, distrusting voice calls out firmly beside them.

The sound breaks some of the Queen’s enthralling magic. She takes her hand from Novaoa’s shoulder and seems to glide back to her stone throne, the green vines on it receding back into the earth as she sits down. “Yes,” the Queen says as she sits, sadness pulling at her features, “she must be tested. We cannot be too careful.”

Looking to the side Novaoa sees who the distrusting voice belongs to.

Beside her stands a massive, hulking Human woman covered in the bulging muscles. Her bulk is inhumanly large and Novaoa knows at once what she was: someone able to tap into the barbarian’s rage. It has swollen her body and made her larger, stronger. The power has also increased the size of the woman’s breasts but they are firmly held in place by the imposing woman’s outfit.

She is covered in cascading layers of furs and leathers, large teeth and horns interwoven in them. She has on a small skirt, fangs of some massive monster sewn all around its edges. Belts of dark leather wrap around her waist and more furs fall from them down her back, part of the strange half dress made of the red scales of some huge lizard the other half well worn leather.

Fabric is wrapped tightly around her prominent bust, pressing her breasts in and keeping their substantial bulk in check. The garment looks as though it could be closed over her muscular abs when she is not bulked up, but now the garment hangs stretched open below her breasts, large teeth and fang like tusks sewn into their form making it look as if her stomach is a mighty maw open and roaring.

A massive dire bear’s pelt hangs from her back serving as a cape. It is tucked into to large two masses of bone on each shoulder, a jumble of huge interwoven jumble of bone, tusks and jaws and half of a skull.

The woman’s size would have been enough to make her an imposing sight but the outfit makes her absolutely terrifying. Even her hair style adds the fierceness of the woman, the hair cut shorter than most men’s hair, all but one long tangled, dreaded braid hanging down one side of her head. The woman clearly has a pretty face, but it is masked by bright red tribal artwork painted onto it.

But there was more. She holds a weapon in each hand and they are bound to where hands with tightly woven strips of red cloth, making it look like she couldn’t release her hold on them even if she wanted to. One of the weapons is a long, slender sword with a slightly curved blade. Looking at the handle Novaoa sees that the blade is carved from bone and had once been a tusked jaw.

The other weapon is even more imposing. It is massive, so large that she doubted it could be picked up when the woman wasn’t bulked up with the muscles of the barbarian rage. Angular, sharpened ebony stone forms a curved blade and the spiked bones of some unimaginable demon creature is fused with the stone.

The woman glares at Novaoa and flexes her muscles, lifting her weapons up. “I am The Blade of the Queen,” she declares. “I am the rage she cannot express, for she is too pure. Since entering her service I have been like this, the barbarian’s rage not subsiding even for a moment. My weapons are magically bound to my hands and they cannot be released till my Queen’s war is won.”

Novaoa isn’t sure how to reply. The hulking woman steps closer, looming over the Nemorvian. “You must be tested. The enemy has sent agents disguised as allies before. If you prove to be one your death shall be swift and painless, more mercy than you would deserve but it is what my Queen desires.”

“Do not be afraid,” Queen Faeven says with a musical laugh. “The Blade is my fury and my caution, but I have faith you will pass the test.”

“What is this test,” Novaoa says, looking away from The Blade and feeling light headed. This is all too much. She feels as though she is walking amongst gods and legends. And the numerous Fey that flutter about in the air, singing and laughing, don’t help her feel any more grounded.

Queen Faeven leans back on her stone throne, bracing both her hands beside herself on its surface as she spreads her legs open and pulls her feet up. She is left with her womanhood spread and revealed. It is hairless and so perfectly shaped it doesn’t seem to be real.

“You must come and kneel before me and taste the moisture of my arousal. Once on your lips you will be able to speak only truth for a time. Come now, Novaoa the Nemorvian, come taste me so you can be tested.”

Novaoa feels she was moving in a dream, like she is watching herself as she stumbles forward and kneels before the powerful Fey Queen. As she leans in the fragrance of the woman’s pussy makes her head swim. It is so real and strong, yet the scent of flowers and green living things is magically intermingled with its pungent mortal scents.

“Taste me,” the Queen whispers, placing a hand on her head and pulling Novaoa’s head into her pussy.

The Nemorvian closes her eyes and opens her mouth, letting her tongue dart out and lick the Fey Queen’s cunt. The taste of her womanhood can only be described as divine, every perfect taste imaginable all in one yet distinctly the strong taste of pussy. She takes one lick then feels herself magically forced back and up onto her feet.

“Now tell us, Novaoa,” the Queen asks firmly, “are you a willing servant of The Corruption? Are you a spy or agent sent to do us harm?”

Novaoa opens her mouth to answer and feels that she can only speak truth. “No,” she says, sighing in relief. “I wish only to serve you, to serve in your army.”

The air around her shifts, a tenseness that had building but had gone unnoticed by Novaoa till then dissolving.

Queen Faeven sits up and closes her legs. “Novaoa is a true ally,” she declares loudly. “We shall welcome you as one of our own. You will be given clothing and armor and our Fey smiths shall arm you with potent magical weapons should you want them. You are a member of my army now, pledged not to me but to the battle against The Corruption.”

She pauses, the smile disappearing from her face. “I protect my army with power that can challenge the gods themselves. Yet you must know one thing: as mighty as my power is it could all be lost in an instant. Should a man’s penis ever touch my form my power would end, as would all the boons I have bestowed upon my gathered forces. This is why we hide our camp, why we prepare for the liberation of those held in sexual servitude in Iphasea City in secret. Do you understand Novaoa?”

“I think so, yes,” she replies, not at all meaning her words.

The Queen then laughs and waves her off. “Go now, Novaoa. Meadow shall tend to your needs. And soon you shall be informed of our first actions in this war of liberation.”


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