Futanarium 1: An Erotic Short Story Bundle (4 page)

It did not take long for the muscled, forceful commander to develop into pistoning, intense speed that more and more pushed the breath from Amelia, leaving her gasping heavily for air between each pleasure-mixed, agonized moan. She tried desperately to stem the flow of submissive sounds, gritting her teeth as she held back what she could. She only seemed to manage to entice the huntress more, though, the small, quiet mewls she hesitantly let out seeming to push Soraya onwards, inspiring more demanding, pounding thrusts.

The elf was clearly covered in a sheen of sweat by now, beads gathering and rolling along the contours and curves of her powerful form, occasionally shaken from her brown locks like an animal might shake water from its fur. She had gone from heavy breathing to deep, almost inaudible growling and into greedy, heavy gasps, the elf’s large, sloshing balls rising slightly as the warrior obviously approached what surely had to be an immense, copious orgasm.

Amelia tensed as she sensed the crescendo coming, her fingers digging into the muddied, now slightly sweaty carpeting around the map table. Wet, staccato gasps rolled from her with each overfilling, ramming thrust, the pain having numbed slightly to give way to grinding, slowly burning pleasure, as much mental as it was physical. She did not want to give in, but the domineering abuse weakened the barriers and walls she had built around her inner desires, making her quietly, shamefully wish that she would not just be abandoned once the commander was spent.

Soraya’s thrusts became longer, gyrating her hips slightly as she stuffed the little human to grind against the constricting walls of her cunt, the intensity in those amber eyes making it obvious that pleasure had built from the mere sensation of their bodies meeting into a barely-contained flood that now came crashing down. The elf gave a last, brutal, hilting push into Amelia, almost doubling over, one hand holding the queen’s thigh, the other supporting the elf against the ground as she breathed in heavy gasps, beads of sweat dripping from her down onto the arched body of the woman below.

The huntress groaned, instinct seeming to take over to push her pelvis forward, that massive, thick shaft grinding against Amelia’s cervix insistently, the first creamy, sweltering load making the girl contract heavily, unwillingly milking the following many thick, copious ropes of seed from the elf, the huntress’ stomach, thighs and pelvis tensing to the point that she groaned in pain as she came, and came, and came, overfilling the girl’s stuffed pussy, long, thick strands of potent, hot cum overflowing around Soraya’s fat shaft, dripping in long strings onto the ground.

Amelia could just lie there, her cheeks burning as she received the elf’s heavy loads. Her fingers twitched slightly as she became ever more stuffed, until finally, Soraya relaxed. The elf exhaled and inhaled needily, Amelia letting herself relax somewhat, her eyes closing as she gasped for breath. She had expected to feel disgust, but she felt calmness. Not exactly fulfillment, but her mind did not revolt at what she had been through. She had been raped, but by a worthy creature. Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head at the alien, shocking thought, opening her eyes to look up at the elf again, apprehension obvious in her grey-blue eyes.

The Huntress stayed in her little human prey-girl for a while, holding herself in as if savoring the conquest. Finally, the elf took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, her shoulders sinking as she relaxed and then began to pull backwards, dragging the fat, messily juicy shaft from the lightly squirming girl’s cunt, thick strands of cum hanging between that large cockhead and Amelia’s abused, aching pussy. Soraya lowered her prey to the floor once more, and as she withdrew, a small flood of seed followed, flowing lewdly down the queen’s ass and pooling slightly on the carpet, joined by the breaking strands of semen from the massive elf’s steely shaft.

For a moment, Amelia feared and hoped that she would be subjected to more of the commander’s urges, but the elf took another deep breath, then pressed her still hard shaft into her leggings again with some difficulty. Lying below Soraya, the queen could not help but glue her eyes onto the thick bulge on the huntress’ leggings, extending a ways down her thigh. As she stared, she gasped a few words. “What... What will happen to me now?”

“You’ll stay with me until you’ve learned what you need to, little one. You’ll be taken care of well enough.” The elf buttoned her leggings, her nostrils flaring slightly as she surveyed the messy girl she had left behind on the floor, then she turned and walked to the entrance of the tent. The low, lilting tones of elvish could be heard again, and soon after, two more elves entered.

Amelia had barely had time to sit, covering her chest with her arms and crossing her legs, smearing the commander’s thick spunk copiously. She looked up at the two wild elves, guards of some sort. They were not quite as impressive as the commander had been, but it was close. They had the same naturally dominant air about them, though they lacked the physical definition and strength that set Soraya in a league of her own. After a panicked moment, Amelia realized that the two were not there to pick up where her previous abuser had left off, but rather to lead her off somewhere else. She motioned hesitantly towards a few of her outfits still spread on her bed, unsure if the two would understand her tongue.

“No. You come with us. Now.”

***~~~***

Soraya folded her arms, standing on a small hilltop some hundred steps away from the dead king’s tent. Her second in command, Saranna, stood below and in front of her, also observing the two wardancers leading the confused, stumbling and very, very naked queen out of her tent.

“
What’s the point?” The lieutenant seemed annoyed with Soraya’s choice of keeping the human around, and alive.

“
I enjoy her, Saranna. And I think she’ll be receptive to our thinking. With a little luck, she’ll leave my care a changed woman. Have patience.”

The lieutenant responded with a harsh, throaty sound of disapproval, but she had tried her luck in contesting her commander’s wishes before, and it had not gone well for her.

“Where do you want her taken to?”

“
Bring her with us. Keep her tied, for now. I’ll let you know when I have things prepared for her at home.”

Soraya was, to the outside world, the picture of elven might. She was both physically powerful and of a sharp, but reassuringly calm mind. Outside of the dead king’s tent and its dim light, she looked more like the wild elf she was, skin bronzed by a benevolent sun, demeanor displaying a relaxed confidence that most only dreamed of.

After seeing the girl, after toying with her, she had become convinced that there was an opportunity to change the human’s mind before her kingdom’s advisors had a chance to corrupt and cement it. It needed to be done with a firm hand, with equal parts words and conquest, but Soraya was prepared for it. Looked forward to it, even. There was a special joy in taking those who tried to deny to themselves that they wanted it. Even though Amelia was human, she was without doubt beautiful. It would be far from unpleasant to mold her. Soraya’s lips creased in a small smile as she watched the queen half-trip over a tuft of grass and get pulled to her feet by the guards. She would look good in her collar.

The first month or so, she had quietly regretted giving the gift. Another month had passed, and the regret had turned into muted acceptance. Her desire to please Isha remained unchanged, after all. It was simply that she had not fully thought through what she was getting herself into, nor had she really believed that she would be taken on her word as she had been. But there was nothing to do about it anymore except persevere and try her hardest. It was a daily trial, though sometimes it was gentler and shorter than others. Today was not one of the gentle days.

Tanya’s eyes were opened wide, focused squarely upon her mistress’ face, the way Isha liked it. The uneasy, internal pressure and beginning panic was something she had learned to suppress to some degree, but it had been twenty seconds already. The metal gag that held her mouth wide open clacked as she attempted to adjust the position of her teeth. It was no use. Her shoulders rose, held in place, and then shakily rolled. She instinctively tried to get away. Rather, her body did, even though her head was held firm. Her eyes were still in place where mistress wanted them, even as she began to grow more distant and primal.

The long seconds beforehand were different, but in the end it reminded her of when she had almost drowned one time. When the struggle to swim as best as she could had died down, in those fluid moments before her friend had dragged her out of the water. A stillness of mind had come to her, a sort of detachment that took her away from the dwindling struggle her body was able to put up. It was not a pleasant state but not a harmful one either. It was not truly tranquil, she was still aware of what was happening to her, but she had withdrawn from her senses in a way she had never experienced since then.

That is, until she gave Mistress Isha the gift. Then, she had experienced it again. Over and over again, only this time it was not her insufficient strength or skills that had her slowly choking. It was the thick, hard shaft plunged down her throat.

Her arms were tied firmly behind her back, elbow joints forming near-perfect 90 degree angles, wrists immobilized with secure rope work. The best she could hope for was to smear panicked sweat and cause light rope burn, and that was exactly what she did. Mistress was relentless even so. Tanya’s mechanical, jerking struggles were dying down, the girl’s blue eyes beginning to close. She was drifting further away, slipping towards unconsciousness.

In that last moment before she went limp she was torn backwards, her throat suddenly unblocked and free, an instinctual, wheezing inhalation pulled into her lungs as she was thrust back into the world. Tanya’s coughs were interrupted by desperate gasps for air, her body struggling to balance intake and output in its state of high alert. She doubled over forward, feeling gentle fingers holding her hair back, supporting her head as her chest and neck rebelled, and expelled what little was left in her stomach.

Previously unnoticed tears beaded and dripped from her chin or rolled over her neck, down into the small puddle of vomit at her knees, whimpering bursts and gasps of breath wracking her weak form. She leaned forward, fresh tears wetting her mistress’ loosened leggings. It had been around two months since she had promised Isha that she would learn to deepthroat, and she still reacted so violently.

She felt the back of a warm hand caress up over her wet cheek, and reassuring words following. “You’ve done so well, Tanya. I almost can’t believe it,” she said. The girl smiled up at her mistress, her eyelashes still watery. Her throat was still sore, her chest muscles feeling overexerted. It was the third time she had thrown up that morning, and she could feel her body struggling to keep up with the abuse. “Do you want to stop for today, Tanya?”

She shook her head in response. Two months ago, she had given Isha the gift, and she would see it through. Until she had learned, she would not consider the gift truly given. So she leaned her cheek against her mistress’ inner thigh, the hemp rope holding her arms in place sounding off quietly as the pet relaxed. She knew that mistress would decide when it was time. For now, she just tried to let her stomach settle, and to control her heightened drool production.

The metal from the gag that held her teeth far apart had long since warmed to her mouth and skin, but the rails that extended into her mouth elevated her spit-production, such that the attempts at containing her mistress’ shaft had lead to lewd strands of drool splurting from her mouth, hanging from her cheek or collecting on her flushed, pale chest. She swallowed another little bit of it, and cast a submissive, slightly nervous look upwards. She was ready.

Isha’s amber eyes never stopped having the caring expression that made her trustworthy. Made Tanya willing to give in and be calm, lay her life and well-being in the sorceress’ hands. Slender, gentle fingers caressed one by one under the girl’s messy chin, slowly angling her face upwards. Small jolts of instinctive, frightening vulnerability shook her as those moistened fingers pushed lower again, down over her sore neck, massaging smoothly.

Tanya’s chest still burned, but it was now with nervous determination and lust, not aching, exhausted muscles. She pushed off a little from sitting on her heels, determined to show her dedication through action. It was impossible for her to kiss and nibble with the gag, but she closed her eyes and put the slightly metallic taste out of her mind, lifted herself further and let her mistress’ hanging balls curve into her mouth.

She pushed the tip of her tongue up against the damp skin, suckled more into her maw and then, slowly, dragged her tongue flatly over the large sack, taking in a deep breath. They were both freshly showered, so all she smelled was a mix of pine and precum.

For a while, that was enough. Tanya worshipped mistress, occasionally slipping those balls out of her mouth to drag her tongue slowly across the creased skin, her nose and forehead bumping the length that towered above her. Isha did not have to do anything herself. Not at first, at least, simply letting the deliberate, loving treatment move towards its eventual conclusion. Almost imperceptibly at first, Tanya’s tongue began to just barely reach up to the warm, bulging shaft itself.

Soon it was anything but imperceptible, the shamelessly submissive girl coating the shaft in drool from root to crown with small, lapping movements of her tongue. She could feel her mistress growing more aroused, Isha’s breathing becoming heavier and more insistent as her weighty rod was lathered in a thick, dripping layer of spit.