((Author’s note: This is one of my “backer driven” stories. That means its being written and posted like one of my poll driven stories, but only a single backer gets to see and vote on the polls.))
The Guildmaster whistled quietly to himself as he pretended to look through one of the massive leather-bound books he used to keep track of the quests he gave out. Every minute or so he’d turn a page, but even though his eyes remained mostly on the book it had been some time since he’d read any of the words written on them. His focus was on Kusa Lowthunder, the muscled Orc woman that nearly every other person in the Guildhall’s common room was focused on.
Been some time since I’ve seen a new arrive draw this much attention. Except they’re all focused on her for the wrong reasons, the Guildmaster thought as he watched the crowd listening to the woman’s stories. She comes in covered in muscles and scars, wearing torn and blood-stained leathers and furs. They see she’s older, that she’s seen more battles than most of them will see in their lives. They hear her confidence. They are enthralled by her stories of combat, of triumph. But they’re seeing that Orc warrior wrong. They see a skilled, high level Adventurer. But she’s NOT.
The power and competence she radiated were a bit awing, and she HAD shown up with a guild token ranking her as a tenth-level Fighter. It was clear the woman was old enough and battle-hardened enough to have earned such a high level as an Adventurer.
Except she HADN’T. Those guild tokens that proved one’s membership in the Adventurers’ Guild did more than track an Adventurer’s official level. It took a Guildmaster to alter the rank recorded on it, everyone knew that. What most didn’t know was that Guildmasters stored other information about the Adventurers in the tokens, information only other Guildmasters knew how to read.
She’s only recently joined the Adventurers’ Guild, he thought as he watched the woman enjoying the attention she was receiving. When she joined they ranked her level based on her past accomplishments, that’s normal. But she’s letting these fools assume all these stories she’s telling are about her life as an Adventurer. They’re not. The cunt was a warlord, leading her savage Orc tribe to conquer and pillage. I doubt if they knew THAT they’d be so eager to cheer and buy her more drinks.
Then again, maybe it wouldn’t matter, he thought as he looked at the many Adventurers openly lusting after the muscular, older Orc woman. She’s fierce and looks freakishly strong. Plenty of male adventurers who want to bed a woman like that, either because they want a partner stronger than them or they want to TAME a woman that strong. But she’s NOT as strong as they all think. Orcs are rare in this part of Alaria so few of them realize how different their physiques are compared to most other races.
She LOOKS like a hulking brute covered in scarred, iron-like muscles. But I can see through to the truth. She’s older, still young enough to have a kid or two, but getting up there in years. She’s gone soft for an Orc. So much of that bulk they are all drooling over, it’s softer than it looks and almost grossly soft for an Orc. She’s lived an easy life the past couple of decades, I’m sure of it. Yes… listen to those stories. Most aren’t picking up on it, but they are OLD stories. Stories from her youth.
And those tits! Even more drooling over them. Fucking huge green monsters barely contained by that skimpy fur and leather outfit. But they are fully covered, with the chest keeping them tight in place and not letting any cleavage show. I know Orcs. They like to show skin. So why no cleavage? Why was the garment working so hard to hold her big tits so tightly in place?
It’s obvious to me. Orc women tend to have softer and more naturally sagging tits compared to Human women of the same age. A hard, vain woman like that would be aware of that, especially if she popped out a kid or two during the time she spent living the easy life. Tits would be even softer than they’d been when she was young. Most men wouldn’t care, but she’s clearly trying to relive her youth in some way and wants to look the part as best she can.
The information stored in her guild token had practically confirmed what he had guessed. Combining what he saw with what was in the guild token allowed him to paint a mental picture of the woman’s past that was almost certainly close enough to the truth for any inaccuracies to not matter.
She’d been a warlord, vicious and undefeated. From the looks of her clothes and the slight accent she has I can peg the region she’s from. Know a bit about the Orcs there, they DO tend to pillage and conquer then pull back to their traditional homelands to live in luxury while ensuring the next generation of little green pillagers grow strong.
But just why did she leave the life of comfort she had in her homeland? If I’m right about where she’s from she’s traveled a long way to get to Midgate. Was she been drawn here because of all the potential glory and riches to be found in the nearby wilds, or was she fleeing her old life for some reason?
It wasn’t long before the Guildmaster had an answer. Someone had asked about her slight accent, recognizing it as being from a distant land. Her answer was a little vague, with her unwilling to give details. She’d grown estranged from her adult children and only knew they’d come “this direction”. She was now wandering Alaria, taking a few quests in each town or city she passed through to enjoy the life of an Adventurer, all while hoping to one day find one of her children and reconnect with them.
The Guildmaster could feel it was an important piece of information. He wasn’t sure WHY, but he always listened to feelings like this. This intuition on what mattered when it came to female Adventurers whose doom he was ensuring was nearly always correct. He never questioned it or where this almost supernatural power came from, he simply used it with eager glee.
After bringing up her children the conversation turned to her sex life, many of those crowded around were expressing intense interest in it. She disappointed all of them by making it clear she was done with sex, and although not quite coming out and saying so the Guildmaster thought it was clear that this was mainly to avoid risking getting pregnant again.
Listening to more of her braggadocios stories as the night went on allowed the Guildmaster to see that Kusa was, or had been, an impressive woman. He could admire that, especially since the warlord had retired from the impressive life to raise a family. A proper life for a woman, especially an Orcish one.
But to throw all that proper life away to become an Adventurer? The Guildmaster would not allow such an affront to the profession to be tolerated. It was NOT a profession meant for women, ESPECIALLY ones who had more proper places in the world. His mind went to work as he began to play to “correct” this affront.
He could see some obvious weaknesses. Kusa hadn’t been living as an Adventurer for long which meant her combat skills were most likely out of practice and her body was still soft from living softly for so long, at least by Orc standards. But most importantly she didn’t SEE this. THAT would be useful, and he always enjoyed using women’s blind spots to ensure their doom.
But simply sending her out to face a physical threat she’d think she could take on but couldn’t wasn’t enough for the Guildmaster. Her demise couldn’t be a simple thing. She’d lived a life fitting an Orc woman. To throw that all away then insult him and all proper Adventurers by taking up this life? Her demise had to be carefully crafted to be a true work of art that fit HER.
To do that he had to learn more about her. He needed to confirm his guesses. To tease out any other weaknesses or personal quirks that could be twisted to make her doom more satisfying.
Luckily, doing so was a simple thing while she remained in the Guildhall. Aside from excelling at eavesdropping while she was in the common room he had a variety of magical means to spy on people in every other room in the building.
I’ll wait and watch, the Guildmaster thought. He was confident something special and important would reveal itself.
* * *
That one, Kusa thought. Scrawny even for a Human man. He’ll be easy to bully and even outright overpower if that’s what’s needed. A scrawny loser who MUST know he’d never have a chance with me even though he’s been sneaking lusty looks at me all night long.
Her excitement at choosing a fitting “aid” quickly died. Damn this curse and what it requires me to endure… But at least it gives me the ability to sense which men can help in the sacrifice it requires. I can feel he’ll have EXACTLY what I require for tonight. He may LOOK scrawny and pathetic, but he’ll have good ‘equipment’ and the right kind of physical endurance.
As she continued entertaining the group surrounding her she kept an eye on the pliable male loser she’d chosen. As soon as he left the common room for the night she made her excuses, saying she too was ready for bed.
Kusa moved quickly after that. Although what she was about to do was something she found incredibly distasteful this part at least brought her joy. It reminded her of stalking wild beasts when she was young, animals three Human men with weapons would have trouble subduing. She grinned as the memories from her youth came flooding into her mind. Running. Stalking. Leaping on them. Subduing the beasts with her bare hands, using her bulging muscles to snap their necks.
He’s just prey, she told herself. And even though it won’t feel like it soon I’m the predator in this. I NEED him. I’m choosing him and he has no say in it.
Kusa caught up to him just before he reached the rented room he was retiring to. Without giving him a chance to call out she shoved the puny man into the room, slamming and locking the door behind her. A moment later she had hold of the little loser and was explaining exactly what was going to happen and why.
She explained that she suffered a divine curse bestowed by Azel, the Cock God. To avoid the “dire consequences” of this curse she was required to regularly worship the “evil and perverse” god. This, she further explained, could only be done by “worshiping” a man’s dick.
Kusa left it up to the man’s imagination what this “worship” would entail. She wasn’t giving him a choice in the matter, and he’d soon find out what it was anyway. She made clear his cock would be the altar she’d be worshiping at. He was unimportant. He was only to speak or even move if she told him. This was a thing happening TO him, not a thing he was part of.
The pathetic man spluttered in confusion, asking meekly if what she’d said earlier that night about being done with sex had been a lie. She firmly told him it wasn’t. She had no interest in sexual pleasure anymore and fiercely avoided anything that risked getting her with child again.
“I will only be using my hands and mouth,” she told him. “That’s all I’ve ever done to fend off the dire consequences of this curse and it’s ALL I’ll ever do. I’m DONE with sex, this is just something I must do, a tedious task that I won’t enjoy. That I NEVER enjoy.”
She’d known that the last part was a lie. She didn’t WANT to enjoy it, but once the worship began… The fucking curse MADE her enjoy it.
It could do other things to her as well, unpredictable things. Sometimes as her faith flowed to that bastard god Azel she’d find herself in a trance. A trance that might leave her wanting or needing more. A trance that might even leave her incapacitated so her “altar” could do more than she’d otherwise allow.
The awfulness of those times were at least lessened by the way the trance often left her memories of them foggy. But this little twerp didn’t need to know that. No reason to even hint at the possibility of him being able to take un-given liberties.
The fear he’d felt when she’d first forced her way into his room had faded. The scrawny little creep was starting to look a little too eager for Kusa to stomach. She couldn’t have that.
She reminded him he wasn’t a man, he was just a thing she was going to be using. He’d be her shrine to Azel and nothing more. “And most importantly you will tell no one about this, EVER.” She emphasized the point she was trying to make by grabbing him by his scrawny, fragile neck and lifting him off the ground. She squeezed just hard enough to show how strong she was. “And if I find out you do I’ll hunt you down, rip your fucking head off, and use it to bite your cock off your corpse.”
After that she dropped him to the ground, savoring the look of fear on his face as he spluttered for breath.
“Understand?” she demanded. When he nodded she told him, “Good. Now take your fucking clothes off then get in the center of the room. And remember, once you’re there you’re not a man. You’re a thing. A shrine to Azel and nothing more. No moving unless I tell you. No talking. You just stand there unless I say otherwise and let me use your cock to worship Azel.”
Although still shaking with fear the man moved with eagerness to get undressed. That eagerness as he threw off his upper clothing started to make Kusa’s anger rise again. She probably would have threatened or maybe even assaulted him again, but before that could happen the man dropped his pants and her whole demeanor changed.
She’d felt the curse already affecting him. It was always like that. By the time he’d started to drop his pants he was hard she could see how hard he was. And THAT had led to her feeling the effects of the curse. Her simmering anger cooled, replaced by other intense feelings once his raging erection sprung into sight as he tugged his pants down past it.
The sight of his disgusting Human cock, all pink and miscolored to her eyes, springing into sight caused her to let out a pathetic moan of desire that shamed her deeply. Her green cheeks flushed, although she was confident the Human wouldn’t be able to tell. Their unattractive, pallid flesh was easy to see flush, while noticing such a thing on beautiful green Orcish skin required a more refined eye for beauty.
Beauty. The word ran through her head as she stared at the pathetic man’s cock. Kusa had always liked beautiful things. True, as an Orc her definition of “beauty”, especially “masculine beauty”, was a bit different than what most races and cultures defined as beautiful. But that didn’t matter. She had always been an Orc that savored the beautiful things in life. Beautiful treasures she pillaged as a warlord along with beautiful men she took as part of her pillaging. Even other Orc warriors, she’d defeated and claimed the most beautiful of them as well.
She liked to tell herself that the kind of beauty she admired hadn’t changed. It was a lie she could make herself believe, except for when she was forced to see a cock.
The moment a cock, especially a HARD cock, came into sight the lie melted away. The things she’d found beautiful before the curse were nothing to her now. There was only one beautiful thing in the world.
Cock. Beautiful cock.
Moving as if in a trance Kusa approached the man now standing naked, his member standing at attention.
He was muttering something about feeling harder than he’d ever felt before. “So hard it almost hurts,” he groaned.
She ignored him. It was just the curse. It often affected men near her this way. It ensured when she was prepared to worship Azel their manhoods would serve as a proper altar to the Cock God. His muttering didn’t matter. He was just a living shrine now. Besides, in a few moments he wouldn’t mind. They NEVER minded. She hated it, but she’d become VERY good at worshiping Azel through these temporary fleshy shrines.
When she reached her shrine she dropped to her knees, looking like a supplicant kneeling at her altar. She stared reverentially at his throbbing member, the veins pulsing visibly with each beat of the shrine’s heart. She lowered herself and moved closer till the shrine’s member, which was now fully her altar, loomed over her.
That terrible yet wonderful moment came. She knelt, staring up at it, feeling herself connect to Azel via her shrine. There was a change in the world, a subtle thing she felt spiritually. The shrine’s member wasn’t JUST an altar to Azel, in this moment of prayer it WAS Azel. The God of Cock, in the flesh, there for her to worship.
The powerful Orc woman shook a little, hating every moment of this yet unable to stop herself now. It wasn’t just about the consequences she’d face if she didn’t regularly pray like this. Now that it had started she felt an all-consuming religious need to continue.
She moved closer, tilting her head back till her mouth was near the place where his balls began leaving her nose hovering under the underside of his towering shaft. Close enough to feel the heat of his skin. Close enough to smell the gross, grimy male stink of the Human’s ugly, pink, veiny member.
If she was in her right mind she’d be disgusted, retching at the smell. But her prayer had begun. The humiliating debasement of kneeling there and greedily huffing in the stink of her altar’s musky, unwashed cock was all part of her devotion. From how rank it stank she knew the taste would be even stronger, but even that left her feeling eager. Enduring the taste was to be one with Azel, the only being that mattered once she began praying to him.
“Praise be to the Cock God,” Kusa whispered reverentially.
Before continuing the prayer she took another deep breath in. She fought the temptation to close her eyes to better savor the stank. Visually taking in the beauty of a hard cock was as important as experiencing its divine glory with all her other senses. Her eyes were so focused on the fleshy throbbing rod looming over her that they would remain crossed till she finished the prayer to Azel.
“I thank him for the blessing of this beautiful, hard cock and shall worship him by bringing it pleasure.”
As she uttered the words of the prayer she felt her faith flowing out, into the beautiful fleshy altar looming above her, then up into the Ethereal Plane above Alaria where the Cock God existed. He would feast on her faith, and in return he’d hold back the true consequences of the divine curse she suffered for a little bit longer.
That initial flow of faith brought Kusa a brief moment of clarity. Azel, along with every other god, was just a parasite that needed the faith of the people of Alaria to survive. The more they feasted the more powerful they grew, allowing them to better trick mortals into feeding them through the offerings of blessings, or through the coercion of curses like the one she suffered.
During that terrible moment of clarity Kusa always felt utter despair. This was a humiliating debasement for a woman who had spent her life dominating men. Killing those who opposed or even annoyed her and claiming the ones who pleased her as toys or trophies. It was a horrible reminder that even at her greatest power she had still been nothing compared to the might of a god.
Her mind always went to the same place. “It’s like that bastard god Azel is rubbing my face in my debasement, like he’s MAKING me feel how humiliating I find this so he can enjoy it more.”
Rubbing my face in it. The words would stick in her mind, repeating and slowly changing. Rub my face in it. Rub my face in the glory of Azel. Rub my face in this beautiful cock altar.
Then the worship truly began.
She pressed her face up into the underside of the cock, suffocating herself in its musky stank, greasy maleness, and suffocating heat. She opened her mouth, silently mouthing words of prayer while huffing the smell then licking and sucking on the place at the base of her altar’s shaft where its balls began.
Praise be to the Cock God, she thought as she rubbed her nose into the shaft from side to side, savoring the feel. The heat. The smell. The throbbing hardness.
I thank him for the blessing of this hard cock and worship him by bringing it pleasure, she thought as she opened her mouth so she could lick then suck on his balls.
I let my faith flow through this cock and into Azel, she thought as she licked up the length of his shaft to take his cockhead into her mouth. Knowing that by bringing it pleasure I pleasure Azel, she continued as she started sucking him off with religious reverence and diligence.
This cock is Azel’s cock, she thought, aware of the way her shrine was huffing and panting.
Azel IS cock, her mental prayer continued. Her shrine’s huffing grew more desperate. Through years of religious devotion her head game had grown beyond the skill most men could imagine. He wouldn’t last long, few ever did.
I worship it. I submit to it. It is my one and only god.
She felt it, he was close. He’d been as unprepared for this as most men were. It wasn’t just her skill sucking cock, this was as much a religious experience for him as it was for her. He’d cum soon, cum harder probably than he thought possible.
But WHERE would Azel inspire his temporary shrine to cum? And what would happen after that? Sometimes that was the end, but more often than not it wasn’t. Often it was just the beginning. With Azel’s attention on them her shrine and his “altar” might be VERY far from spent.
To be continued soon…
Philo Hunter Erotica 