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Using her sword like a cane for support, Leika managed to slump down against a venerable oak, exhausted. Her wounds, although not mortal, were oozing blood and stinging something fierce. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply and then releasing the breath slowly. When Leika reopened her lids, she glanced out the corner of her eye at the naked man kneeling on the grass a few steps to her right. She saw that her slave’s hands were clasped behind his back, his cock hanging limply before him. His head was bent low, his chin resting on the leather collar which was wrapped around his neck. His eyes were downcast, but just as she turned her gaze fully upon him he risked a glance at his mistress, quickly averting his eyes once again as he noted that her regard was upon him.



“Joreg!” she said her pet’s name sharply.



She might as well have stabbed him with a hot poker, the way he reacted, his posture stiffening instantly. She grinned wickedly. Now that she was sure that she had his attention, Leika gestured for her pet to tend to her.



Standing, Joreg came over to his mistress and began the process of removing the armor she wore over her muscular — but entirely feminine – frame. Leika set her huge broadsword aside, leaning it against the tree on her left side where it would easily be within reach, should the need arise.



Not that any of the enemies she had just faced would have been capable of tracking her…had she left any of them alive. But it paid to be careful when combat was one’s profession, she had learned early on. As her slave disrobed her, Leika thought about the battle from which they had just emerged.



The more she thought about it, the more angry she got. “You know you could have gotten us both killed, right?” she asked her pet as he removed the last of her armor. Joreg nodded in response.



Leika noticed that her slave’s cock was beginning to harden as he looked at his mistress in the nude. She laughed softly. “Start licking,” she commanded.



Obediently, Joreg began to run his tongue over Leika’s wounds, starting with her legs and working upwards. The warrior woman hissed slightly as her pet lapped at a particularly deep cut on her inner thigh, and then gasped in pleasure at the feeling of his rasping tongue on her tender flesh and the tingle she felt as Joreg’s innate magic did its work, closing the wound almost instantaneously.



Joreg was a member of an ancient pack of timber wolves which had been imbued by some long dead elven cult with preternatural intelligence and abilities in order to protect their forest home. It seemed like only yesterday that Leika had managed to separate him from his pack and capture him, using a specially made collar to trap him in his human form. Years had passed as she shaped him into her perfect little pet.



Joreg had continued his ministrations while Leika mused on the past, and was now nearly finished tending to her wounds. He licked at a minor scrape on her left breast, causing her nipples to harden. She could bear it no longer; His tongue had been all over her body at this point, except for the one place that she truly needed it.



Grabbing hold of Joreg’s hair, the warrior woman guided his mouth to the wound that would never heal. She kept her hold on the back of his head, forcing his face against her mound as he began to lick at her soft gash expertly. The tongue bath he had just given her had gotten her very hot, and she felt a quick orgasm rising. Leika’s hips jerked as she crushed her pet’s nose against her clit, shock waves of pleasure shooting through her battered body as her mouth opened in a silent exclamation.



Leika released Joreg’s hair, reaching up with both hands to tweak her own nipples as she came down from her climax. Her pet didn’t pull his head away when she released her grip, but kept licking her gently, perhaps trying a bit too hard to please her. And then she remembered why.



The warrior woman grabbed hold of her slave’s hair once again, dragging him up to her eye level. “Why were you out of position?” she demanded.



“I saw you fall, mistress! I thought you needed me.”



“It’s called a feint, you fucking moron! I was baiting those idiots into attacking recklessly.” Leika shook Joreg roughly. She wanted to beat him senseless, but she took a deep breath to calm herself before speaking again.



“Because you were out of position to intercept the package, I may very well have lost this contract,” Leika told him. “You know that you must be punished.”



Joreg looked scared as her meaning sunk in.



“That’s right, bring me my items,” Leika commanded.



The slave frowned, but went over to the rucksack which he always carried for his mistress and returned shortly with a leather harness and a large dildo carved from obsidian and inscribed with various runes. Attaching the dildo to the harness, he held the contraption for his mistress as she slipped her legs through. Then Joreg slid the harness up to Leika’s waist and buckled it firmly in place.



After completing the task, her pet began to stand, but the warrior woman stopped him. “You’d best suck it, bitch. That’s all the lube you’ll be getting tonight.” Leika grinned evilly and Joreg whimpered as he bent to take her cock into his mouth.



Leika groaned in pleasure as her pet’s hot little lips closed around her enchanted dildo. The magical device sent tiny shocks through her pussy and deep down into her core as her humiliated slave gave her an unwilling blow job.



His lack of enthusiasm was understandable; He hated it when she used him in this way, and so she generally reserved the strap-on for when Joreg needed to be punished or to be reminded of who was in charge. At the moment though, Leika was not satisfied with her pet’s performance as he bobbed his head, hardly taking more than the tip of her cock into his mouth.



Suddenly, the warrior woman grabbed her slave’s ears and yanked down while thrusting her hips up into his face, forcing her cock to the back of his throat and making him gag and try to pull away from her.



“No, you’re gonna fucking take it all, bitch! I’ve let you have your own way too much lately, I see that now. You’d better get used to being fucked like this, ’cause this is how it’s gonna be from now on.”



With that, Leika thrust her hips up again, forcing the rest of her cock into Joreg’s throat. She held him down as he struggled and felt an orgasm rip through her as she watched his eyes fill with tears, his mouth stretched wide over her girth. The warrior woman made her slave gag on her dildo for a few more moments before pulling him free and pushing him away from her.



Her anger had unleashed a reserve of energy within her, and Leika was not done yet. Standing, she towered over her pet as he lay on the grass at her feet, coughing and sputtering.



“Lie on your belly,” she demanded. “Now!” she added, when he did not immediately comply.



Once he had assumed the desired position, Leika kicked her slave’s legs apart and then knelt between them, her dildo jutting out in front of her, still glistening with Joreg’s saliva. She placed one of her fingers in her mouth, wetting it, before reaching down to poke it against her pet’s tightly puckered anus. Joreg tensed and wiggled away.



Grabbing his balls with her other hand, Leika squeezed them roughly as she again pressed her finger against her slave’s rosebud. Considerable pressure was required before her digit penetrated him. Joreg yelped, and his mistress tightened her grip on his balls to keep him in place as she forced her finger all the way in.



“Mmm, so tight,” she said. “It’s been too long since I’ve fucked you the way a bitch should be fucked.” Leika pulled her finger free and traded her grip on Joreg’s balls for one on his collar, using her right hand to guide her cock to her pet’s little hole.



Joreg whimpered. He knew what was coming, now that his mistress had everything lined up.



Leika twisted her slave’s collar hard, choking him and yanking his head back as she rammed her dick into his ass roughly. He tried to scream as his mistress ripped into him, but he couldn’t breathe. The warrior woman moaned as she sunk fully into Joreg’s tight ass, her dildo’s enchantment sending her pussy into spasms. She didn’t let him have any time to adjust, releasing his collar to allow him to breathe, but forcing his face down into the ground as she began to thrust in and out.



Each time that Leika slammed home into her slave’s abused asshole, he let out a sharp yelp of pain. It only made her use him harder as she got off on his suffering.



“This is what happens when you fucking disobey me, bitch!” she snarled in his ear as she continued to brutally jam her cock into him over and over. “The next time you pull some stupid shit like that, I’ll put your cock in an ant hill while I fuck you, instead of this nice soft grass!”



As she said that, Leika had a thought. She stopped thrusting for a moment and reached down under Joreg to feel his cock. It was rock hard, throbbing in her hand as she gripped it.



“Oh, so you like having your little cock rub against the grass while I fuck you, huh bitch?” Leika laughed at him as she pulled her hand out from under him and started fucking him again. She heard Joreg begin to sob as she used his ass. Her pleasure began to peak as she soaked in her slave’s pain and humiliation. Her hips became a blur as her dildo sent electric waves through her. Burying her cock in Joreg as far as it would go, she jerked his head to the side to see his reddened face soaked with tears. Leika felt the sharp jolts of her climax racing through her core as she bit down on her slut’s neck as hard as she could, jerking against him as she gave him a few final thrusts.



The warrior tasted blood on her tongue as she pulled her mouth from Joreg’s neck, and she saw the mark she had left on him. Her slave had gone silent now that she had finished with him, except for some quiet sobbing. He didn’t even react when she pulled her cock free from his ass and stood over him.



Leika kicked Joreg over onto his back and looked at the ground where he’d been laying. She laughed and bent down to run her hand through a patch of grass. Her hand came back covered in white goo.



“Such a good little bitch,” Leika taunted her slave. “You came without anyone even touching your cock.”



She knelt beside Joreg and put her hand in front of his face.



“Clean up your mess!”



He knew what his mistress wanted, but he hesitated. Then Leika reached for his balls and Joreg quickly sat up and submissively began to clean her hand with his tongue, a disgusted look on his face. His humiliation was now complete.



Leika smiled cruelly at him. “Don’t ever forget,” she warned him. “In this pack, I am the alpha.”

Author’s Note: This story is based VERY LOOSELY on the Monster Girl Encyclopedia. More specifically, I took the idea of a world of hot monster girls and populated it with my own monsters of choice. Hope you enjoy it. Please review/comment if you have the time. Thanks!



*



My head spins for a moment, my vision returning in a foggy blur. I blink my eyes once, then twice. When I see my surroundings I close my eyes tightly and open them again, to see if I can rectify what my mind obviously didn’t see properly. But still my surroundings appear the same. I am lying on a small road, a path made by the footsteps of travelers pounding grass into dirt. I am in the middle of a light forest; trees border the road and arch over it, but they don’t quite form a tunnel. I am still dressed in my usual black attire, and I have the distinct feeling I’m nowhere near my home.



Today, I received in the mail a copy of a Japanese book I’d ordered a few weeks prior. An English translation of course, as I’m too impatient to learn the complex Japanese language. The book, entitle Monster Girl Adventure, chronicled all sorts of delightful monstrous female creatures and their fantasy world. Amazons, spider-women, female dragons, harpies, and all with the need to feed off of human males. There were no male monsters. Human men were used for reproduction, their semen was absorbed for life force, as was their saliva and sweat by some monster girls, and sometimes the unfortunate men were eaten. Needless to say, the whole idea was fairly hot, so I ordered the English book.



When I received it, I hurried up to my room at home, my heavy black boots pounding up the stairs. I locked my door, turned on the stereo, and plopped onto my bed to delve into this world of monster girls. Being both a heavy metal fan and a fantasy nerd were not great ways to wow the ladies, so I opted to lose myself in these fantasies. I opened the book and saw a table of contents listing monster girls by their type.



As I flipped to the first page, I remember my surroundings suddenly began to lose their focus. I became less aware of the stereo and its blaring thrash metal. My bed seemed to be present, but only in principle; I couldn’t really feel it, it just held me up. The air was cooler, but my ceiling fan was off. I began to read and then…



As I stand now on the path, checking my pockets to ensure I’ve not been robbed, I wonder where I am. My cell phone has no signal, which is just typical for it. I find myself thankful that I still have my knife, a five inch steel folding blade that never leaves my pocket. Wherever I am, it’s looking like evening and I’d rather not be alone out here in the dark.



To that end, I set off toward the setting sun, west along the dirt track. The trees seem to get a bit thicker, which is disheartening, as I’d hoped to clear the forest by nightfall and find out where I was. Get my bearings at least. As it stands, I recognize approximately nothing of any practical use. This is why, when I round a wide bend in the path and see a woman moving slowly down the center of the road, I hurry toward her.



She is moving slowly, and wearing a hat and cloak. All the same, I can discern that she is a woman. The feminine hands, the sweep of her ample bosom; perhaps a bit of a larger woman, but what does that matter. From a distance I smell a scent rolling off her in waves, a pungent, sweet perfume that is like nothing I’ve ever smelled. Perhaps made from some exotic berries.



“Excuse me, ma’am!” I call out, going for polite so she won’t mistake me for some metalhead thug and run away. “I’m lost, I have no idea where I am or how I got here, can you help me?”



“You aren’t from around here are you?” she responds in an intrigued tone. “You don’t smell like any other man from here.”



“Uh… sure, right.” I fumble for words after such an odd reply. “How about helping me find a phone so I can call a cab and get home?”



“I don’t know what those things are, but I won’t help you find them.” she bluntly explains. “Do you know what I am? You don’t, do you?”



“An unhelpful bitch?” I try.



She laughs and in a single motion, her cloak and hat fly off, and I scream. Her head and torso appear normal, though her eyes are solid black. Her skin is discolored, it is inordinately pink. She wears nothing under the cloak. But her lower body, pink as the rest of her, is a sticky mass of mucus-like flesh. It is a slug’s body. My jaw drops and my eyes go wide with fear. Reflexively, my pocket knife snaps open in my hand and I take up a defensive pose.



“Silly boy,” she coos, “you can’t hurt me. Haven’t you ever seen a monster before?”



“Monster?! Where am I?” I demand.



“They don’t have monsters where you come from?” she asks, genuinely curious. “You really are far from home. But it’s okay, I’ll make you forget all that. You’ll be such a good pet.”



Monsters? A pet? It hits me then… the book! Am I, am I somehow inside that world, inside the Monster Girl Adventure tome, or it’s world at least? How? Why? As a true nerd I’ve always loved the idea of exploring a book’s world, but this is madness. It’s impossible.



While my mind reels, the Slug Girl has moved closer and she makes a grab at me. Though her upper body looks normal, it is still slimy and sticky. She catches my left wrist and I can’t shake lose, try though I might. My knife darts forward to slice at her ample bosom, only to get stuck, blade-first, in her cleavage. The Slug Girl giggles and with a small grunt of effort, expels the knife from her body and sends it clattering away.



“Let go!” I cry as she pulls me into a sticky embrace.



“You’ll feel so good, and taste so good.” she purrs ecstatically.



“Taste?” I gulp. “Are you going to eat me?”



“I’ll feed on your life force,” she elaborates, “and keep you as my little pet. You’ll love it.”



As I struggle, she lifts me up slightly, pressing me against her so that my legs adhere to her bulk and I can’t reach the ground. I scream loudly, crying out in fear and dismay. My heart hammers in my chest, my muscles shake from trying to pull free of her adhesive body, but to no avail. I am panicking as the Slug Girl carries me off the road, moving slowly between the trees with a slithering, squelching sound. But even as I cry out in terror and thrash pathetically in my captress’ embrace, I feel my manhood stiffen at being carried off by this monster girl. How can this be arousing? She’s half slug!



“I’m begging you,” I try once more, “let me down and I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”



“But I want you.” she informs me. “So now you belong to me. I won’t hurt you, too much, my little pet boy.”



We’ve come to the mouth of a small, dark cave, a deeper black against the blackness of the now night-darkened forest. The Slug Girl carries me into the cave and my eyes slowly adjust to the gloom. It is not massive, but not tiny. A narrow path opens onto a chamber about as big as a school classroom. Near the left wall is a pond, which my captress surely uses to keep hydrated. But hydration is not her current priority. She has other hunger in mind at the moment, and I am about to be her meal.



Sticky, slimy hands tear my clothing with surprising force. My shirt comes apart easily, though she struggles with my pants. Finally, frustrated, she throws me painfully on the ground and, to my horror, begins to scoot over me. Her heavy, slimy bulk settles on my torso, her head facing away from me. I groan loudly, uncomfortable under the weight and the feeling of this undulating bulk. From her new position, she is able to slide off my boots, socks, pants, and underwear, leaving me nude. Only then does she turn herself to face me properly, moving off of my body and pulling me up to eye level with her.



“P-please,” I beg, all pretenses of strength forgotten, “I’m a… I’m a virgin. I can’t do this with y-you–”



“Oh, a virgin boy!” she grins ecstatically. “A real treat for me tonight. Virgins always taste best.”



My scream is cut off by my Slug Girl lover pulling my face forward and covering my mouth in a relentless, sticky kiss from which I cannot escape. Her mouth and tongue taste sweet. I breathe through my nose, inhaling her scent, for my mouth is kept captive while my body is pressed against her. Her squishy membrane parts, shifting slightly to engulf my manhood and testicles. Her body tightens around my genitals. It feels warm inside her.



The Slug Girl begins to squeeze my penis with her body, letting folds of her bulk caress my shaft and balls. I groan into her mouth, which she perceives as an invitation to continue. Her body pulses faster, more intensely, for it is designed to work its victims to a climax so it can feed. And work me it does, squeezing and caressing, tightening around the tip and vibrating in such a way that I can’t resist. Against my will, my hips thrust forward, again and again, my shaft is squeezed within her, mercilessly milked for every drop of my seed.



“You ARE yummy!” she proclaims, at last freeing my mouth. “I can’t wait to do this to you all the time.”



“I… you… can’t… do…” I gasp incoherently, exhausted already and still regaining control of my mouth after that near-endless kiss.



“Not forever,” she admits, “probably for a few years, before I decide to find a new husband. Then I’ll just gobble you up and have done with you.”



“What?!” I exclaim. “No! No, you can’t!”



The Slug Girl presses her lips over mine again and this time I feel a peculiar, humming sensation. When she pulls away, a secretion of slime coats my lips and I find, to my horror, I cannot open my mouth. I have been, for the time being, silenced.



“You males and your mouths,” she laughs, “only good for one thing, but you always use them for complaining. Always begging and pleading, not realizing how lucky you are.”



I mumble an incoherent reply.



The Slug Girl moves me over to the far wall of the cave. She pulls her embrace tighter, her whole body humming against me. I think she’s about to rape me again, but instead, her slime coats me, dripping over me and encasing me from the neck down in a slug membrane cocoon, in which I cannot move. My tormentress lifts me up high off the ground and presses me against the wall. I stick firmly, several feet above the cave floor. She nods approvingly at her handy work, my nude body preserved like a prize inside the translucent casing.



“Goodnight, husband.” she bids me. “Tomorrow, we’ll have real fun. It’ll hurt a little, so get some rest.”



With those parting words, she slides her way to the pond to soak for the night. I am left suspended on the wall, my mouth sealed, trapped in a layer of disgusting slug ooze. And worst of all, I’ve been raped. By a monster girl. My virginity is gone, and I’m going to be eaten if I don’t escape. I can’t dwell on the psychological aspect of my predicament, I have to get out if I want to live! But even if I get out of this, how will I escape a world I don’t understand, a world that for all intents and purposes, should not exist.



+++++++



Late in the night, or so I assume, my captress has gone to sleep. I am immobile, sticky, and humiliated at my nudity and predicament. In fear of what will befall me the following day, I try to wriggle free, but with no success. I try to open my mouth, but the membrane just stretches along with my parting lips. My tongue laps against it, and I taste its odd sweetness. But I also notice it dissolves from the touch of my saliva.



My heart leaps with excitement as I lick the impromptu gag away. Then begins the awkward task of trying to get at the rest of my slime prison. I lick away what I can, and it is enough to allow me some movement. I use that freedom to push at the wall and fall unceremoniously to the ground. The Slug Girl sleeps on whilst I lick away the rest of my prison, or the worst of it at least.



In a quiet haste, I put on my socks, underwear, pants, and boots. My shirt is ripped to shreds, but I can hardly care. I just want to get out. Stealthily as I can manage, I bolt from the cave, back out into the woods and the unknown.



The night air feels chilly on my bare torso. The air smells clean, like foliage and mist, but my recollection of the recent horror I only just avoided keeps me from loitering to enjoy the scenery. I still feel sticky and disgusted. A bath would be ideal, so I set off in what I think is a northward direction, in search of water.



I crash through undergrowth and bat aside branches in the darkness. The forest is just thick enough here to make my movement noisy. A downward slope with more dense vegetation at last leads me to the end of a small stream. Hastily, I strip down and wash my clothing free of slug ooze. Then, while I hang my garments on a tree, I bathe myself, always mindful of danger. In a world full of man-hungry monster girls, I can’t be too careful.



When I feel clean again, I emerge from the water and hastily put my pants back on. I miss my shirt, for I now am cold and exposed at night, and the feeling is not a comfortable one. All the same, I move away from the water, nestling between a few bushes to rest for the night. Hopefully the wildlife will pass me by on their way to drink from the spring. And with that thought, I at last sleep.



The sensation of being watched rouses me from my dreams and I leap upright to find I’m not alone amongst the bushes. A girl, or female figure, a bit taller than I am, stands a few paces away. But she is far from normal. Her body, with its alluring curves and large chest, is made entirely of a translucent green slime. A Slime Girl. I recognize them. They feed on semen, sweat, and saliva, and will either free a man when they’re done, digest him alive, or carry him away to mate with indefinitely.



“Hi, sleepy!” she giggles. “I came for water, but now I found food.”



“Please don’t eat me.” I politely implore. “I don’t want to die.”



The Slime thinks about this for a moment before she speaks again.



“Okay,” she agrees, “but you have to be a good boy for me.”



“What do you mean?”



“Go to the riverbank and undress.” she explains. “I’ll take what I want from you, and then let you go.”



“You’re going to rape me?” I groan miserably.



“Men like sex.” she giggles happily. “So come on, stop teasing. Or I’ll eat you, very slowly.”



I have a feeling that, despite her bubbly voice, she’d gladly do it. I can do nothing to escape but cooperate. Grudgingly, I return to the riverbank and take my time getting out of my clothes, hoping to avoid this for as long as possible. The Slime Girl isn’t interested in waiting though.



As soon as I’m naked, she shoots a tentacle out and wraps it around me, drawing me close before tackling me to the ground with alarming force. She is on top of me immediately, yet also all around me, engulfing me in her slime whilst riding upon me. The slime feels cool on my manhood, and she manipulates her body to stimulate me quickly. My shaft comes alive inside her and she vibrates around it, squeezing it with all her might to ensure maximum pleasure.



I groan when she concentrates the vibrations on the head of my member, and that groan provides her with an opportunity. Her slimy mouth covers mine, enveloping it, and a tongue of green slime begins to explore literally every inch of my mouth, soaking up saliva and leaving a trail of slime in its wake. I gag as her tongue explores inside my mouth ceaselessly, lapping up all of my own saliva and replacing it with her slime, which tastes a lot like lime gelatine, oddly enough. The “kiss” goes on while she continues to rape me, squeezing my balls and shaft until I explode into her, my body quivering. For a panicky moment, while she soaks in my seed, the Slime Girl pulls me totally into her body and I gasp for air, struggling while my seed is leached out of me drop by drop and digested almost immediately.



Finally, when I think I’m going to pass out, she expels me from her body and parts her mouth from mine. I lie naked and absolutely dripping with green slime. It drips down my face, it’s caked in my hair, and my tongue and mouth are coated in it. The Slime Girl looks very proud of herself.



“See,” she proclaims, “I remembered not to eat you up! I’m nice.”



“Did you have to fill my mouth up like that?” I ask, spitting slime.



“You don’t like my taste?” she pouts, her lip quivering. “Y-you think I’m u-ugly and g-g-gross?!”



“No no,” I hastily amend, lest I anger her, “I just couldn’t breathe very well.”



“Oh, right!” she chirped, all sadness forgotten. “I killed a man that way once. I forget sometimes. Males are so breakable.”



“Yeah, right.” I awkwardly reply.



“You should get going,” she advises, “other monsters will come soon, and they’re not all nice.”



“Thank you.” I say. “Do I have time to bathe?”



“Nope.”



With that, the Slime Girl hands me my clothes and urges me away the moment I’m dressed, despite how disgusting I now feel. So, coated in her slime, I trudge on northward, circling around the stream, and moving as cautiously as I can to avoid further monster girl attacks. Being dominated by monster women is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s horrific, dehumanizing, and quite frankly, gross. I don’t know who gets off on being raped by a Slug Girl, or coated from head to toe in a Slime Girl’s slime, but I am not one of those people. A little light bondage with a hot goth chick is about my limit as far as weird stuff goes.



+++++++



As the sun moves, I realize I’ve been going east, not north. It really doesn’t matter, but I prefer north, so I move to alter my direction. The forest has grown more dense now, the trees are taller, and it is considerably darker, even when the sun reaches its zenith. The undergrowth is thinner now, but the treetops are far thicker and more like a ceiling of vines and broad leaves. My feet are tired from walking, and stumbling, through the forest, so I decide to take a rest. I plop down between two trees, having little better place to rest.



As I’d walked, I’d snatched up a handful of nuts I’d seen a few squirrels eating. They shouldn’t be poisonous, unless it’s a very selective poison. But I take my chances and break open a few nuts with a small rock. The meat is soft and chewy, and has a not-unpleasant earthy taste, with a strange hint of coconut. Encouraged by the fact that I’ve not yet died from eating them, I scoop up more of the plentiful nuts and make a full lunch of them. The time spent eating is relaxing and the meal is filling enough to satisfy me.



But I’m so satisfied, so comfortable with my little lunch, that I don’t register the sounds of approach until it’s far too late. It sounds at first like tree branches simply swaying of their own accord, but the pattern is too rhythmic, too precisely directed. And then comes the sound, piercing and alarming in the relative quiet of nature. A war-whoop from above that shatters the sounds of birds calling and leaves rustling. A female war-cry.



“Ayayayayayay-#aaaaah!” shrieks the intruder and I spring to my feet to flee.



This action on my part, it turns out, is a grievous mistake. A monster girl with blue skin and pointed ears is swinging through the trees, hand over hand. A Crystal Elf, if I recall correctly. She is lithely built, athletic and muscular but agile as well. And she is twelve feet tall. The elf continues her war-whoop as she swings toward me, hand over hand, vine to vine, letting momentum carry her across gaps in the canopy of branches. Had I stayed seated or thrown myself to the ground, she’d have passed over me and given me a chance to run before she attacked again.



But because I stood, the Crystal Elf, clad only in a loincloth and a bikini-like top made of large, interwoven leaves, is able to lower down slightly mid-swing, wrap her inhumanly long legs around my head, and sweep me off my feet. My hands dart up and grasp her smooth thighs to give me support, lest being so suddenly jerked up into the treetops by my neck cause any permanent damage. My face is pressed into her loincloth, so my scream is muffled. Though her victorious war cry would surely have drowned out my pleas for help anyway, as I’m spirited away to her home and whatever fate awaits me.

+++++++



I’m finally set down, rather I am dropped unceremoniously into a deep hole over which my captress swings. She of course lands nimbly on the hole’s far edge, a perfect landing not inconvenienced at all by her wearing no shoes. She lets out one final war-cry, which is answered by many others, much to my horror. I shakily rise, standing in the middle of the otherwise empty pit, and I watch my captress be joined by many others of her Crystal Elf race, who encircle the pit. Most are pointing spears or arrows at me.



I recall from what I read of the Monster Girl Adventure book online that the Crystal Elves were once a normal breed of elf women who were so beloved by their goddesses that the divines imparted unto them the strength and martial prowess of the amazons. The Crystal Elves thus were born and now, I stand at their mercy. One of them, standing behind me on the rim of the pit, speaks. She wears garb like that of her tribeswomen, but also a crown of beautiful leaves.



“Shia,” she addresses my captress, “you have brought a man to the taming pit. You must now make him submit, and call himself yours, and your journey to womanhood will be complete. Your status as a warrior will likewise be secured.”



“Fair Queen,” asked Shia, stepping to the edge of the pit, “may I now tame my mate?”



“Bring him into his place of domesticity.” replied the elf queen. “Let him know the joy of sitting at your feet and the fear of your wrath.”



That’s it then, I’ve become a pawn in some “coming-of-age” ritual. If I lose, I’ll be this Shia’s slave for the rest of my life. And if I battle her and miraculously win, I’m certain the elven archers will end me quickly. Or wound me and then make my ending more entertaining in some grim way.



Shia let’s out another warbling cry of battle before springing at me. One long, bare leg extends and her foot catches me squarely in the torso. I fly back against the wall of the pit, the breath smashed out of me, and slide down to the dirt floor. Shia stands, legs braced apart, hands on her hips, her eyes fixed on me. The invitation to attack her is clear, and thus clearly what she wants, but I have no choice. I stagger to my feet, drawing a few deep breathes, before I charge toward Shia with a defiant roar.



Her resolve unbroken, Shia meets my charge by crouching low and snatching me up in her arms. I’m thrown over her shoulder and, to the delight of the crowd, paraded around the pit as such. Adding injury to insult, Shia begins to strike my backside with her left hand, painfully for me but in a manner she perceives as playful. The crowd whoops and jeers at my humiliation. At last, I’m thrown back to the ground and Shia returns to the center of the pit, awaiting a new attack.



“I can’t do this.” I cry.



“Fight me or die.” she orders.



Again, no choice. My ass hurts from her humiliating spanking, but I have to try again against my twelve foot tall, blue-skinned tormentress. This time, I dart in fast, but step back when Shia grabs for me, narrowly avoiding her hands. Her right leg sweeps out and catches me off balance, sending me to the dirt. I try to scoot away across the ground, but Shia has other ideas.



Quickly stooping, she seizes my ankles and lifts me by them until I’m dangling in the air. She begins to spin, slowly at first, arms extended forward with me in her grasp. The spinning picks up speed, the pit becomes a blur and I cry out in absolute fear when Shia lets me go. I land with a thump on the rim of the pit, at the bare feet of the elf queen. A savage kick sends me over the edge and into Shia’s waiting arms.



“What is this?” the elf asks me, letting her right hand move to my penis as her left hand holds me up by the waist of my jeans.



“M-my penis.” I shakily reply, my ribs and stomach aching from the beating.



“Wrong!” she snarls.



I’m thrown to the ground and kicked in the ribs so hard I can’t believe they don’t crack. Shia’s right foot comes down hard on my balls and I squeal in agony, pinned to the ground.



“What, is, this?!” she demands again.



I gaze up at her, my eyes traveling up her long legs, her torso with its clearly defined abdominal muscles, and finally I meet her gaze. There is no help, no mercy in those eyes. I don’t know how to reply.



“My balls.” I try.



“Wrong!” she screams again.



This time, I’m kicked up into the air with astonishing force. As I fall back downward, another kick sends me back up, almost like I’m weightless. Breath is gone from my lungs, my body is a patchwork of bruising, my vision dims, and my ears even pop. The sounds of female laughter recede into echoes as a series of kicks and punches keeps me airborne until Shia let’s me fall at her feet.



“What are you?” she demands, her voice the only clear sound to me now.



I take more than a moment to regain enough air to speak. My lips are split and I taste blood. I’m going to die.



“Anything you want.” I cry, tears streaming down my face. “Just make it stop, please! I am whatever you want me to be.”



“You are my mate, my slave.” she explains firmly, her voice strong and firm, perfect for issuing orders.



“I am your mate and your slave.” I relent to tumultuous applause.



“Kiss my feet, slave-boy.” Shia orders.



My pride is broken, my dignity shattered. I press my battered lips against Shia’s blue-skinned feet, kissing them repeatedly. Shia’s elven sisters applaud and cry out in joy at her deed. At last, she scoops me into her arms and leaps out of the pit.



“Your mate is yours, Sister Shia!” the queen proclaims. “May his tortured screams this night attest to a thorough consummation of your union.”



“I won’t be so gentle tonight as I was today.” Shia boasts, squeezing me against her ample breasts.



“Will you be castrating him?” asks an elf of about my height, who I assume to be younger. “I’d so love to help.”



“No,” Shia answers, much to my relief, “he’ll father me some daughters before I cut him off.”



The elves applaud at that as well.



+++++++



The village of the Crystal Elves is built, as one might expect, amongst the trees. Some dwellings are built high in trees, supported by thick branches. Others are built on the ground, around or sheltered by trees. Shia’s home is one of the latter. It is a quaint little cabin of logs with a roof of tightly woven vines and foliage. It stands in the shadow of a tall tree and is large simply because it has to accommodate the height of the Crystal Elf.



Inside the cabin dwelling is a table with two logs carved into stools, a fire pit under a small hole serving as a smoke vent, and a mattress that appears to be made from animal hides sewn together and stuffed with an unknown material. Shia closes the cabin’s door and eagerly tosses away her scanty top and loincloth, revealing all of her beautiful, perfectly toned body. Finally on my feet again, I stumble weakly to the bed and sink down on it, my body aching. Shia lays upon the long mattress, stretching out and emitting a cat-like purr.



“Undress.” she says calmly.



It is, for some reason, this simple command that brings to the surface all of my fear and helplessness, my psychological pain, my confusion, and my home sickness. As I strip off my boots, pants, socks, and underwear, I openly cry, my body shaking with powerful sobs. Shia firmly pulls my trembling body against her, resting my head on her breasts.



“Why do you weep?” she inquires. “I’ve not yet begun to torture you.”



“I’m so scared, a-and s-so confused.” I babble through a stream of tears and sharply drawn breath. “I’m not of this world, I awoke here and everything has been trying to hurt me or kill me or rape me.”



“You are a man,” Shia explained, as if I didn’t know, “sex is what you are good for, and you enjoy it. Your weeping makes no sense.”



“But I’m not consenting to this.” I protest. “Not to any of it.”



“The spider does not beg the fly’s consent.” Shia responds. “Monster women mate with, enslave, and sometimes eat human males. This is life, enjoy your role in it. I intend to enjoy it at length.”



At this point, Shia grips my head firmly in her powerful hands and forces me down between her thighs. Locking my head between her vice-like thighs, she presses my face into her warm, inviting depths. Shia’s hips arch upward as her thighs squeeze against my head. My body, betraying my dismayed mind, forces me to extend my tongue and lick, first slowly, then at greater speeds in correspondence with Shia’s grinding hips and crushing thighs. When she, after over half an hour, reaches a long, slow orgasm, I nearly black out from the crushing force of her legs, and my face is positively covered in her sweet nectar.



Shia pulls me up beside her and begins licking my face clean, using her long, prehensile tongue. Slowly she moves down past my face to my neck, her tongue flicking across my skin in a shiver-inducing way. Shia’s body moves over mine, pressing painfully down upon me and keeping me pinned as her tongue flicks up and down my collarbone. Without warning, she sinks her teeth into my collarbone and I scream in pain while she bites down with agonizing strength.



“Ah! It hurts, Shia!” I scream my body sweating profusely from the pain.



Shia releases her bite and licks her lips eagerly. She encircles my waist with those muscular thighs, squeezing my hips and pressing down painfully. Then she seizes my manhood firmly in her hand, with enough force to be painful to me, and slides it into her sweet inner sanctum. And thus begins the most miserable twelve hours of my life to date.



Shia’s inner walls squeeze my manhood painfully, and she begins to rock her hips back and forth with such force that my body is moved back and forth on the mattress under her. The speed picks up and, admittedly, the unnatural vibrations and stimulating texture of her vaginal walls do feel very exciting. Caught up in that excitement, Shia slaps me across the face. Lightly at first, for her at least, then harder. As her body painfully rides astride me, all but pulverizing my hips, her breasts swaying with the growing motion, she rains blows down upon my face and chest. Punches, slaps, and swipes of her nails leave me screaming in a mix of sexual pleasure and tortured agony.



“God no!” I gasp weakly when she seems to have reached and enjoyed her climax. “No more, please.”



“Much more.” she proudly declares. “My body’s natural magic will keep you hard and awake until I am done. Now worship your superior mate, slave!”



The violent, hip crushing sex continues, as does the painful beating. I lose track of time. My life becomes one slap to the face or punch to the stomach after another, one increasingly painful orgasm and then the next. The constant sexual stimulation has actually become fairly painful. I weep openly, but this only excites Shia as her lovemaking increases in speed and ferocity for the remainder of the time.



Long hours pass before my elven mate is satiated. When at last she is sexually satisfied, Shia falls upon me with her full weight, twelve feet of musculature, and lays there, sleeping soundly with her arms and legs wrapped around me, heedless of my gasps for freedom. Gasps which are muffled by her breasts smothering my face. Like this, barely getting enough air, convinced my body will break at any moment, I am forced to sleep. Clearly my body needed the rest far more than the comfort. But even in sleep my dreams are plagued with the memories of my torture and fresh nightmares regarding what may yet befall me.



+++++++



The feeling of a weight lifting off of me wakes me the next morning. Shia moves to her table and prepares a meal for herself. My legs barely respond when I try to stand, so instead of walking, I crawl like an animal, dragging myself to the table.



“Good boy.” praises Shia. “You’re being broken in very well.”



While she enjoys her meal, my elven mate rests her feet on my back. Apparently I am both sex-slave and footstool in this society. But, huddled on the floor under her bare feet, I don’t complain, lest I be punished. If sex, an act of pleasure for this Crystal Elf, leaves me barely able to walk, how could I even survive a punishment? Would I survive? Would I even want to?



“You may eat now.” Shia instructs.



She places a plate on the floor and I eat, still seated naked by her feet. I’m so humiliated, so thoroughly debased, that I don’t even think to protest the unfairness of my situation. What good would it do me anyway?



“You will clean my home today.” Shia informs me. “You will fetch water from the spring with the other men, and tonight we will mate again.”



“Again?” I moan.



“I won’t be so soft as I’ve been,” she assures me, “do not fret, lover. You’ll know my full strength tonight.”



I’m going to die. I’m going to be fucked to death by an amazon elf. It sounds like Heaven, but it couldn’t be any more of a Hell. My only hope rests in one of my errands: fetching water with the other men. Perhaps then I can slip away and leave Shia behind.



“I’m going out,” she informs me, “honour my departure.”



“I don’t understand.” I admit.



“Stupid male,” she scoffs, “when I arrive or leave you, you worship my feet like a good slave. Now.”



Still seated en her stool, Shia presents her perfect, blue-skinned feet. They are, of course, to scale with the rest of her. As such, it takes me a while to kiss and lick them all over, to Shia’s satisfaction. My lips caress her soles, my tongue lapping at her soft skin and moving between her toes. When I have finished with both feet, Shia rises.



“Go fetch water with the other males.” she instructs. “When you return, clean our home and then stand in the corner until I return.”



“Yes Shia.” I answer.



“You’ll make a fine mate.” she praises.



Why does that make me feel proud?!



I exit Shia’s home and see, for the first time, other men emerging. They are all thin, they look underfed, and they move mechanically, without any sense of real life. Their spirits have been thoroughly broken. They are like machines built to serve their mistresses.



One by one the men move in a line, carrying water pots. I dart back inside and retrieve a clay pot that I’d missed before, and hurry to join the men. Supervising the line of servants, wearing a knife at her side and holding a vine whip, is the younger elf who’d talked to Aria after my taming. She eyes me with a look I do not fully understand. She looks to be about eighteen in human years, and thus has not blossomed to the full height of her elf sisters. She stands roughly at my height, only slightly taller.



“Move along!” she barks, cracking her whip across a man’s shoulders.



The man stumbles forward but does not cry out. Are they so dead to pain? Will I be like them one day if I don’t escape? Almost certainly. But, for fear of punishment, I fall in line and hastily make my way down to a nearby river with the others. The journey is short and would not be unpleasant, save for the fact that movement of any sort hurts me greatly after Shia’s long, passionate night astride me. As such, stooping to fill my water pot proves to be a wince-worthy effort.



“You, new boy.” comes the elf’s voice as she cracks her whip in the air. “Shia’s mate. Come here, now! The rest of you, stay.”



I set my pot away from the shore and tentatively step toward our overseer, keeping my eyes down as I’ve seen the other men do. She beckons me to follow her away from the shore and I obey, having no other choice. At last, we are well separated from the rest of the men, and it is then that she tackles me viciously, landing hard on my torso with both of her knees.



“Now, you little whore,” she snarls, her face inches from mine, her knife in her hand, “I’m going to cut off those pathetic testicles of yours.”



“W-why?!” I gasp weakly as she unbuttons my pants and slides down my underwear.



“Because your mate wouldn’t let me, and it turns me on to hear men scream when I do this nice and slow.” she purrs, seizing my balls in one hand and pulling them up painfully.



The cold edge of her knife presses slowly into my skin, and my primal instincts kick in like a lightning strike. Panic fuels me, adrenaline fires in my veins, forcing away the fear that had numbed me and left me at her mercy. With a great roar, I heave her off of me and throw her to the ground. Her shock is so great at seeing a male fight back that I have time to quickly pull up my underwear and zip up my pants before charging off into the forest.



I don’t know which way I’m going. I only know that the wicked elf is behind me, running quickly, and that I have to lose her soon. My feet stumble on a few large roots and I keep my arms up to bat away grasping blanches. Terror pounds in my heart as I run, the footsteps of my pursuer close behind me. She let’s out a war cry and is about to leap upon me when I break through the trees into a clearing, and she freezes as if she’s run into a transparent wall.



I watch her for a while as she watches me, a look of fear briefly flickering across her face. Then she turns, and she is gone into the woods and I am alone once again. But what could have driven her off? Another monster girl? Most likely. I’ll have to be cautious. I only just escaped a horrible life amongst the Crystal Elves, I can’t afford to risk capture again. Carefully I look around me as I step forward, but I see nothing, nor do I hear anything besides the sounds of the forest. Then I look up, and I wish I was back in Shia’s arms again.



Above me, smiling wolfishly and perched in a massive web that spans the sky above the clearing like a gossamer ceiling, is a horrific creature with the giant body of a spider, but with a woman’s upper-body where the spider’s head should be. Her hair is jet-black, her eyes gleam fiercely, and her skin is the color of ivory. Over her torso she wears some garment of tight black leather that accentuates her large chest. In her hands she holds a long strand of spider-silk that trails down from her web, far down to the ground, to a loop in which I’ve managed to step.



She lets out a wicked cackle and pulls hard on the silk, hand over hand. The loop snaps tight around my ankles and yanks me off my feet, hauling me ever upward and into my captress’ web. She laughs all the while, and I struggle uselessly in midair until I’m up above her web, lying on my back upon the sticky strands, quivering in her shadow.



“A new toy!” she cries. “Hopefully you will last longer than the last.”



“The l-last?” I stammer, still shocked at her horrifying appearance.



“He died when I began dissecting him,” she explains, clicking her foremost, razor-tipped spider legs together, “so he didn’t get to live long enough to enjoy me laying my eggs in him. You’ll be much better though, I can feel it.”



“Someone help me!” I screamed, thrashing and wriggling on the web. “God don’t let me die this way! Help me, somebody, please!”



“It will feel amazing when I cut you.” purred the spider. “I’ll make sure you love it.”



I’d heard of these monster girls too. Arachnitaurs they’re called. Sadistic spider-women that thrive on the torture and misery of their male mates. Said mates never last very long, or so I’ve heard. In that knowledge, I pull myself painfully from the web and try to scramble away, only to fall on my belly and stick to the web once again, more thoroughly this time.



“Don’t run, toy.” the spider-woman ominously purrs as she looms over me. “Save your breath for screaming.”



“Why do you want to do this?” I groan in pathetic desperation.



“Because no one can stop me.” she cackles.



I quiver and whimper, shaking like a tiny leaf in an all-consuming storm. But the first strike is not a cut. Instead it comes from a short strand of her silk held in her hand. The arachnitaur cracks it through the air and lets it collide with my back. Even made of silk, the whip stings bitterly and I bite back a cry of pain.

“Don’t you hold back.” she moans in a tone of excitement. “Scream for me, boy!”



The whip cracks again, harder, across my bare back and I scream aloud this time, throwing my head back and howling like a wounded animal. Crack, crack, crack. Seemingly without end, the spider-woman whips me, panting in ecstasy while I scream and cry and beg for her to stop. At last she does stop and leans her human torso down toward me, turning me onto my back on the web.



“Your face is so pretty when you’re in pain.” she coos, brushing her lips against my cheek and biting my right ear painfully. “I think I’ll kill you nice and slow.”



A searing pain shoots through my chest as my captress slides the razor-tip of one of her forelegs across my skin. A thin, red line is carved in its wake, and I shudder and wince against the stinging pain. Another foreleg takes the opposite trajectory and thus an X is carved into my chest. She begins to trace patters, intricately, on my skin, leaving lacerations with every stroke. I groan and try my best to welcome unconsciousness, but it will not come.



“Please,” I whine, gazing into her eyes, “please spare me. I’ll be your servant, I’ll do as you please, but I can’t take this anymore!”



“Such a sweet boy.” she hisses seductively, leaning in and kissing me hard on the mouth. “I won’t kill you today, sweet boy. Tomorrow, I’ll torture you a while more and then I think I will spare you the agony of being filled with my eggs.”



“Oh thank you, you are wonderful! Thank you!” I babble, willing to survive another bout of misery if I’m not going to be used to hatch her young.



“I think I’ll eat you instead.” she whispers in my ear, before sinking her teeth into my neck.



I try to scream, but suddenly I cannot move. From the point where her teeth sink in, a cold sensation like a burning ice shoots through me, spreading until my whole body is frozen stiff.



“I’ll eat you tomorrow,” she repeats, nibbling on my ear, “and this poison will keep you immobile and awake, down to every last bite.”



I cannot move to speak, to cry out, to struggle, but I can still feel. I feel the spider-woman’s fierce kisses and sharp bites. I feel her lift me up and wind me tightly in her silken thread from my neck to my ankles, before laying me again in the web. I would be screaming aloud if I could, but as it is I can only cry out in my mind, shrieking internally as a panic wholly new and overwhelming charges through my body. My heart hammers in my chest, my mind races at the thought of things to come. Surely thinking those same thoughts, my captress lies in her web to slumber for the night.



+++++++



As I am unable to sleep, the night draws on, dark and cold, wind chilling me beneath my horrible silk cocoon. The forest is still, save for the sounds of night birds and the arachnitaur’s gentle breathing in her sleep. Quiet as my surroundings are, I hear the stealthy footsteps below me very clearly. For a moment, I hope it’s Shia coming to rescue me, then I realize that such a rescue would not be a great improvement. But at least I’d be alive.



“You up there,” comes a quiet female voice, “stay calm and don’t move.”



I hear movement but cannot turn my head to see the woman approaching. Vibrations shake the web, yet somehow the spider-woman sleeps on. Then I see her in the light of the moon, my rescuer. She is human, in her late twenties, with brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wears a coat, pants, boots, and gloves. Somehow, her boots and gloves seem immune to the web’s adhesive qualities.



“Hold still now.” she urges, producing a small knife. “I’ll get you out of this. Can you move at all.”



I can do nothing to reply.



“Hit you with her venom, did she?” the woman muses. “It’s okay, that will wear off in eight to twelve hours. I’ll carry you somewhere safe.”



I thank whatever deities govern this realm as my savior cuts away the webbing from my half-naked body and manages to sling me over her shoulder and still navigate to the ground below. Her athleticism is astonishing, but I don’t see her as inhuman. Certainly she’s not a monster, or so I hope. She carries me through the forest, talking all the while.



Apparently, her name is Alexia, and she lives alone in a house on a hill to the east of the forest. She’s taking me there where I can rest, recover, and most importantly of all, stay safe from the world of monster girls ready to have their wicked ways with me. I breathe easily as Alexia moves on out of the forest and up an inclined path. We pass through a gate, which Alexia locks behind us, before entering a vast mansion of a house. I don’t see much of it from my awkward position on Alexia’s shoulder, but the doors are ornate and the hall behind them is lined with beautiful tapestries. A large, exotic rug lies across the wood floor.



Alexia takes me down a long hall and up a flight of stairs. How she is not tired is absolutely beyond me. I’m at last brought into a small room with a bed, table, chest of drawers, and a lantern.



“I’ll wash your clothes for you, you poor thing.” she says, stripping me down while I lay in bed. “You get some sleep for now, okay?”



I lay on my back, totally naked. Fortunately, Alexia covers me in a warm blanket before she leaves. Though I cannot sleep, courtesy of that damned venom, I can relax in the warm bed and listen to the soothing sounds of wind outside my window. The old house creaks often, and a few times I think I hear footsteps outside my door, but I must be imagining them. Makes sense my imagination would be on edge after all I’ve been through in this all-too-real fantasy world.



+++++++



When morning finally comes, I find that I can weakly speak, but I still cannot do more than blink my eyes as far as movement goes. Alexia enters the room, clad today in a white coat and wheeling a tray of equipment I’d associate with medical facilities in my own world, back home. I’d assumed this whole world was primitive. It seems I was, to an extent, incorrect.



“As I mentioned yesterday,” she says briskly, “I study medicine and other sciences. I’m just going to run some tests on you, for your own good.”



“Will it hurt?” I ask quietly.



“It’ll be okay.” she answers, not quite addressing my question.



Drawing aside my blanket, she examines the cuts on my chest, cleaning them with alcohol and a soft cloth, which hurts all the same. She examines me thoroughly, looking in my eyes and ears with a tiny light, pinching my skin with calipers to get an estimate of my body-fat versus musculature, and at last she comes to my more sensitive regions. She handles my testicles rather roughly, which makes me wince.



“Sorry,” she says, “I have to check for any irregularities.”



My penis is examined as well, at great length, which I’m assured is medically necessary. Then, she turns me onto my belly and I hear her snapping on a glove.



“What are you doing?” I demand.



“Rectal exam.” she explains. “This will hurt a bit, so sorry.”



“Wait!”



But she doesn’t. I feel first one finger slide into me, widening me uncomfortably, then another. She begins to push until all of her fingers are inside me and I’m grunting into my pillow. But she keeps pushing, harder, deeper, my body expanding to try and accommodate her, though the pain is immense. Finally, her whole fist is inside me, up to her wrist. Slowly, Alexia begins to pump her fist in and out, back and forth inside me. Horribly painful and humiliating as it is, I can’t help but get aroused at the feeling.



“You’re doing great.” she informs me, her breath coming heavily. “Great. Just… a bit… longer. Yes, come on.”



“Ouch!” I groan as she pumps faster.



“Yeah!” she cries out. “Yes yes yes.”



She’s getting off on violating me with her fist! I scream in pain and rage as she lets out an orgasmic cry. The only plus side is that she at last removes her hand, disposing of the glove and turning my helpless body over. I stare up at her, malevolence in my eyes, laced with a healthy dose of fear and physical discomfort.



“Why?” I manage.



“You’re perfect.” she proclaims.



Then, without a further word, she leaves me. I wait, feeling some control return to my body, enough that I can sit up, though it takes me a while and I have to lean against the headboard to do it. There I sit, naked and violated, miserable in every sense of the word. But when Alexia returns, my misery turns into a familiar sensation: terror.



Alexia is not, in appearance, the same woman who rescued me the night before, or who “examined” me this morning. Her skin is chalk white, her hair a flowing cascade of ebony. Her eyes are angular, matching her sharp features, and they have an infernal red glow to them. Her hands are slim, her fingernails painted the same blood red as her lips. And between her lips I see fangs. I’ve been captured by a vampiress.



“You may call me Queen Alexia.” she says in a cool, imperious tone. “Did my shape shifting impress you.



“A vampiress.” I exclaim. “Why did you save me?!”



“You’ll make a fun food source and sex-toy.” she matter-of-factly states. “I need no better reason to keep a male, for there is no better reason.”



She wears a flowing black robe and tall, stiletto-heeled boots that click across the floor as she moves to my bedside.



“Medically you are in excellent condition to meet my needs and survive my wants.” she tells me. “But first, I’d still like to assess your performance. And in that, your queen grants you a choice.”



“A choice?” I ask in confusion. “Please, will you release me, Alexia?”



She slaps me violently across the face twice.



“Queen Alexia!” she snarls.



“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, Queen Alexia.” I hastily correct.



“You have two options.” she goes on, as if nothing had happened just then. “I have a machine in my dungeon, an Iron Maiden. But instead of blades, it has tentacles that will stimulate you ceaselessly, and thus assess your performance. Or, there is the other option: Nina.”



“Nina?” I ask.



At that, the door opens, and a girl enters. She too is pale and black-haired, but she is shorter than Alexia and entirely naked. She looks to be eighteen or nineteen. Her eyes look human, but I’m learning not to trust that. Her body is gorgeous, soft and curvy, inviting in every sense of the word. She eyes me and licks her lips.



“Nina is an android.” explains Alexia.



“An android?! Those exist?” I incredulously inquire.



“An artful combination of science and magic.” Alexia replies. “She is designed to be the ultimate, tireless lover, made to take and receive pleasure in every possible way. She is your second option.”



“I uh… I don’t want any of this.” I murmur weakly.



“Choose one,” Alexia orders, “or I will shrink you down and use you to pleasure me… from behind. Understand?!”



“I choose Nina.” I blurt out, motivated by that rather disturbing threat.



Alexia smiles and retrieves a set of thick shackles from under the bed. I’m forced to lay back down, my wrists shackled to the headboard, my ankles shackled to the footboard.



“I’ll monitor everything.” she assures us. “Nina, let him live unless I say otherwise.”



“Yes, my queen.” Nina chirps.



“Good, see you in a week.”



“A week?!” I cry out as the door closes and locks behind Alexia.



I don’t have time to panic, before Nina lets out a squeal of glee and throws herself on top of me forcefully. I try to talk, to reason with her, but she buries my face between her soft breasts and begins to rub her chest against my head. I let out muffled protests that go on until she at last pulls away.



“I can’t survive this for a week, I’ll starve and dehydrate.” I try to reason.



“My saliva contains nutrients to keep you fully hydrated and sustained.” she happily squeals.



“Your saliva?!”



I get no more words out before her mouth smothers mine in the most invasive, disgustingly slobbery kiss I’ve ever experienced. Her tongue, longer than a human tongue, probes my mouth, extending into my throat. I gag, but she won’t stop the kiss, engulfing my mouth in her’s. I now understand how she intends to feed me for the week. Never breaking the kiss, Nina reaches down and fits my penis into her tight depths. At that new sensation, I moan into her mouth, which she takes as a sign to kiss me harder, much to my complete disgust.



Her vagina, designed like the rest of her to induce pleasure, tightens rhythmically around different sections of my manhood. It feels ribbed, to induce greater pleasure as she begins to move her hips up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Light vibrations within her tickle the head of my shaft, and I find myself ready to climax very soon. But just as I near the brink, she tightens her inner walls extremely, to the point of major discomfort. My manhood is held in that vice grip until the urge to climax has died, and then she loosens up slightly and begins her thrusting once again. A deep, sinking feeling sets in, as I realize that this will go on endlessly, my orgasms denied at every chance, until this session has ended. It will be a woefully long week.



+++++++



Nina rapes me for a whole week. Somehow, my body’s urges to sleep and to expel waste are entirely overridden by my android lover. She slavers over and into my mouth near constantly, feeding me with her unwanted kisses, while her perfectly designed vagina keeps me at the brink for five excruciating days. By the end of it, I’m mentally detached, just watching myself be raped by this beautiful android girl, for to stay in my mind is to go mad with pleasure. When Nina finally let’s me orgasm, the force is so intense I almost faint, and it makes Nina cry out and squeal with glee.



“Good boy!” she proclaims. “Queen Alexia will love you.”



Then she pouts slightly as she climbs off of me.



“I want you more though.” she whispers to me as she leans in to playfully lick the side of my face. “Now, sleep for a while before Queen Alexia takes you for a feeding.”



“A feeding?” I ask.



“She’ll want blood.” Nina explains.



Of course she will. I’m too exhausted. My body aches, my hips burn from the constant friction. My mouth tastes like… the inside of Nina’s mouth, I suppose. In a truly sorry state, I fall heavily into a deep sleep. For how long I cannot tell.



When I next wake, Nina is laying wrapped around me, nibbling lightly on my neck and purring to herself. When she sees I’m awake, the artificial human helps me up. My legs are weak, shaky after a week of disuse, but Nina kindly supports me as she walks me out of the room and down a long hall to a set of heavy wooden doors.



Behind those doors is a lavish bedroom decorated with swords, axes, and pieces of armor. Alexia, robed in black, smiles broadly at me, revealing her sharp fangs. Nina pushes me forward and then hurries from the room.



“My android has fallen for you.” Alexia observes. “It’s rather charming.”



“She raped me for a week, how is that charming?” I ask, defiance flaring in my battered body.



“Still a bit of spirit left in you.” laughs the vampire queen. “That will make you taste even better.”



I step back involuntarily as the vampiress rises to her imposing full height and strides forward. She locks a hand in my hair and pulls me to her large, four-posted bed. There, she falls on top of me, jerking my head painfully backward.



“Will it hurt?” I whimper, the fight leaving me with startling speed.



“Probably.” honestly answers Alexia.



Her razor-sharp teeth pierce my neck and I cry out in pain. A slow, sucking sensation pulls at my neck and I feel the very life seeping out of my body and into the quivering body of my captress. My vision blurs, I’m certain I’ll die here, at the hands of the wicked vampiress. Then, when at last I think myself doomed, she pulls away and blows lightly on the wound inflicted by her fangs. Almost immediately the wound seals up and I feel no pain. Alexia kisses me deeply.



“You taste wonderful.” she praises. “Now, Nina will make you something to eat to regain your vitality, then we’ll go for a ride in the gardens.”



“Oh uh… thanks.” I mumble, confused at her kindness. “I -h… that sounds nice.”



And it actually did sound nice. Nina hurries me down to a dining hall where she prepares a plate of food for me. She offers just to kiss me and let me absorb nutrients from her saliva, but I tell her that I need proper food to fully maintain my strength. This makes her unhappy, and the look on her face nearly makes me forget the week of sexual torture.



“Next time.” I offer. “You can give me all the kisses you want, if Queen Alexia says it’s okay.”



“Are you happy?” she asks, brightening at my words.



“Well,” I muse, “the torture and rape were Hell, and the feeding hurt. But I do already feel better.”



“Alexia’s vampiric energy heals those with whom she chooses to share it.” Nina explains.



“That makes sense.” I reply. “So if I just have to get bitten every so often, it shouldn’t be too bad. She’s taking me for a ride in the gardens later.”



“Oh, I see.” Nina pouts.



“Nina, you know you raped me for a week.” I point out. “How much do you expect me to love you?”



She looks at me, wide-eyed and horrified.



“But, y-you wanted me, because I’m pretty.” she defends, hugging herself protectively.



“You are pretty,” I agree, “but I was tied up and screaming no.”



“Alexia told me,” Nina stammers, “she said that you would do that, that it was part of your game.”



“Game?” I’m baffled. “There was no game, I was captured. You raped me for a week!”



Nina’s lip quivers, her eyes tear up and she runs from the room, weeping. I feel awful. But why? She did do it. But she didn’t know, it wasn’t her fault I suppose. I eat my breakfast quickly, trying not to think about Nina. When I’m done, I go upstairs and find my pants, underwear, socks, and boots all cleaned like new and sitting by my bed. I dress and find my way outside.



The sun shines bright but not too hot on Alexia’s land. The grass is green and the trees are beautiful. I walk out the back of the house toward what appears to be a small cart with four wheels and a seat atop it, with a harness for an animal to pull it.



“That will be my transport.” Alexia explains, materializing behind me with a riding crop in her hand.



“It’s neat, like a personal carriage.” I answer, startled by her sudden appearance. “What pulls it?”



“You do.”



Now it makes sense. I struggle fruitlessly with Alexia, who forcefully drags me to the front of the cart. A sequence of straps is fitted about my waist and shoulders, affixing me to the front of the cart. Alexia sits in the seat, clad in black leather garments and black thigh-high boots.



“Go!” she orders, cracking the riding crop across my back.



I cry out in pain, the whip stinging my back and startling me forward. Alexia gives me a few more sharp smacks of the crop to get me moving. I scream in agony, my eyes watering as I slowly get the cart moving forward. Using a set of reins attached to my shoulder straps, Alexia guides my movements around the vast estate she owns. Any time I slow down, the crop snaps across my back, fueling me with a jolt of pain and speed. I grimace, my legs ache, but I push on for over an hour, for the pleasure of my queen.



When she at last jerks the reins for me to stop, I am sweating profusely and on the verge of passing out. Alexia descends from the cart and removes my harness. She strokes the numerous welts on my back lovingly, though I wince at her touching of those fresh wounds. This only seems to invigorate her.



“I’m going to make love to you here in the yard.” she whispers to me. “Your pain exhilarates me, slave.”



“Queen Alexia, I’m so tired, and so uncomfortable.” I weakly sigh.



“I know,” she growls in a predatory manner, pulling me down to the grass, “I want to make it all worse…”



I moan in anticipation of the long agony to come. But it does not come. Instead, a scream comes in the distance, getting closer. Nina charges across the yard and tackles Alexia off of me, grappling with the vampiress before striking a terrific blow that renders Alexia unconscious.

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