Captive (29 page)

A gout of sperm erupted in her face, catching both eyes and blinding her. The one up her bottom came, and she felt an agonising pressure in her guts, only to have the contents of her rectum spray from her anal ring as the goblin pulled out. Another replaced it, using the lubrication of his fellow to jam his erection deep up her bottom with one smooth motion. The one between her breasts began to slap and wobble them around his penis, having trouble getting purchase on her two sperm sodden orbs. Sperm erupted in her vagina, then in her face again as the one in her mouth deliberately pulled free and emptied his load over her features.

Again she was turned, and lifted, stuck on the cocks in her body, each pumping as her mouth, vagina and anus were simultaneously used. Lost in an ecstasy of fat cocks and slimy sperm, she struggled to get at her tuppenny, forcing her hands to her clitoris past the bloated belly of a goblin. She came at a touch, gulping at the penis in her mouth, every muscle in her body tight on the invading cocks, coming over and over in spasms. The pleasure drained, only to rise again, and once more as two cocks erupted their sperm in her body cavities at the same time.

With her orgasm over she lost all control or sense of time. Her body was shaken like a doll, used and used until at last, after two, three or even four orgasm each, the goblins began to lose interest. She was dropped in the pool of sperm that had formed on the sand beneath her, face first, bottom up, then mounted anally as she rubbed her face gratefully in the filth. The one in her bottom buggered her thoroughly, came and dismounted. She was left, face down in the mess, her vagina a gaping black hole, sperm bubbling from her slowly closing anus. Vaguely she became aware that it was over, and felt only regret.

Aisla sat down in the pool of sperm and her own juice, her head swimming with helpless lust. Coughing, gagging and farting, blowing sperm from her nose, she let her body clear itself. When she dared to open her eyes she found the arena a blur. The cheers and laughter of the crowd seemed impossible distant, her overwhelming emotion neither fear nor hate, but the desire to spread her thighs to the entire masculine population of the world and be fucked over and over again.

Guards emerged and began to chivvy the goblins back towards the wall, using nets and threatening with tridents. Aisla’s vision cleared slowly as the scent of musk diminished, until the stands swam back into focus. Several women in the crowd had been overcome by the goblin musk and were on their men folk’s laps, obviously mounted on cocks, to the amusement of the others. Others, both men and women, were casually masturbating, either alone or in pairs.

With the last of the goblins clear of the sand another pair of doors opened. Aisla turned, and tried to rise, only to fall back into the mess with a sticky splash as a great dark grey troll shambled out into the arena, then a second, growling his anger at the first, and more, until five stood blinking in the sunlight. The noise of the crowd changed, from pure merriment to gasps of shock, delight and even pity. Betting calls began again, only for the noise to sink to a dull murmur as the five trolls began to advance on Aisla, each snarling at the others.

The largest, and closest caught his massive cock in his hand, masturbating as he walked to draw sighs of awe from women and envious gasps from men in the crowd. His cock was huge, a bar of rigid grey-pink flesh the length of Aisla’s forearm and thicker around. He was clearly the dominant beast, the others holding back, growling. Not wishing to be hurt as she was manhandled about, Aisla scrambled into a kneeling position with her bottom towards the troll, then wiggled it invitingly. At the sight a roar of approval went up from the crowd, along with whistles, clapping and obscene suggestions aimed at the troll.

He reached her, caught her by the waist and lifted her onto his cock, stuffing in as much as would go up her sperm slick vagina in one go. Held in his grip, hands lock in front of her belly, she could do nothing, only gasp and pant out her shock as she was fucked, jerked up and down like a doll on his penis, her legs and hair flying in time to his thrusts, her breasts bouncing and slapping on her chest. The crowd roared in delight to see her used, yelling encouragement to the troll and calling bets as to whether she could take it. Aisla could neither speak nor struggle, but only flop up and down on his penis until at last it jerked, her insides seemed to explode and a great gout of sperm erupted from the mouth of her vagina.

The troll held her on his cock for a long moment, then dropped her to the sand, loosing all interest. She struggled to her knees, fighting for breath and control of her body, only to find that her ordeal was far from over.With the dominant satisfied, the others came in a group, snarling and growling at each other, then grabbing Aisla as they could. The first to reach her mounted her, pushing his enormous penis hard up her gaping vagina the moment he had a proper grip on her hips. The second forced her mouth, taking her by the hair and jamming in the bulk of his erection.

Her straps were broken, the thick leather band that linked her wrists torn apart with ease and her hands pulled onto the remaining trolls’ cocks. She began to masturbate them, pulling up and down frantically to the jerking rhythm of her body as she was fucked. Hands took her breasts, pawing them, bouncing and slapping the fat, dangling globes in erotic glee until her nipples were set in agonising stiffness.

The one in her mouth came first, filling her gullet with sperm, spurt after spurt which she was forced to swallow. The slimy texture and salty taste made her gag, but the contractions of her throat muscles only made the troll come more, pouring his full load of sperm down her neck. Aisla felt her belly swell and retched at the sensation, only to be forced to swallow hard as the troll’s cock was jammed yet further down her throat as he finished his orgasm.

He pulled out, leaving Aisla gasping, coughing and blowing bubbles of sperm froth from her nostrils even as she twitched and jerked on the cock in her vagina. Both those whose cocks were in her hand moved in, jostling for her mouth. Aisla took one, sucked his knob into her mouth and quickly transferred her attention to the other, eager to have both spunk down her throat. The first growled a warning and jammed his penis at her mouth, so that for a moment she had two fat knobs within her gaping jaws. She struggled to cope, only for the smaller troll to pull back at the very instant the one in her vagina came with a powerful thrust. Her head was jammed forward, the fat cock stuffed past her tonsils and deep down her throat, stopping her breathing. She felt the sperm burst from the mouth of her vagina and over her tuppenny, and heard the troll in her mouth grunt with satisfaction as he started to squirm his penis in her gullet.

Unable to breath, she began to panic, but could do nothing, only allow her head to be fucked as her hips were dropped and she collapsed onto the filthy sand. The cock in her throat continued to move, the leathery skin writhing against her flesh, the fat head straining out her windpipe to make her gag over and over, milking the huge penis into her belly as she scrabbled ineffectually at the trolls’ legs. He came, the milking motion of her throat spasms bringing on the orgasm. Once again Aisla felt her gullet fill and her stomach bulge, then he was pulling back and she was sinking to the sand, half-conscious, sick and dizzy. His cock was wiped in her already filthy hair before he withdrew, leaving her to the last troll.

He took her by the hips, pulling her spread bottom against his genitals. She felt the big balls squashed out against her tuppenny, with the shaft hard between her bottom cheeks. He began to rut in the slimy crease of her bottom, bringing the rough skin of his scrotum into contact with her clitoris. Aisla’s mouth came open at the sensation, no longer in distress but in an ecstasy too great to bear save for the fact that she could do nothing to stop it. Grabbing a breast in each hand she pulled out her nipples, and she was coming, screaming over and over and in-between squashing her face into the mixed sperm, sweat and sand beneath her.

The troll paid no attention, rutting and rutting as she came in helpless, unbearable ecstasy. It stopped, suddenly, and she found herself coming down and sighing in mixed relief and disappointment, only to feel the bulbous head of his cock press between her inflamed bottom cheeks, right onto her anus. A deep groan escaped her lips as she realised the troll was intent on buggering her, doubtless an obscene trick taught by Ulor. Held in the iron grip she could do nothing except relax her ring and pray she was elastic enough to accept the cock that was about to be forced past it.

She felt it stretch and heard the roar of the crowd as they realised what was being done to her. Someone yelled out a call, offering a hundred crowns that she would split and then it had happened, the huge cock was up her bottom, her anus stretched taut around the neck, strained to the limit but unbroken. She took it with a pained snort, leaving a long streamer of troll’s sperm hanging from the tip of her nose, swinging as he began to bugger her. Overcome by sensation, she lay limp on his cock, her body jerking to the motion of her sodomy and her breasts slapping and squelching on the filthy sand. For a moment she passed out, only to come round again as the colossal penis was forced deeper up her bottom and his balls began to slap against her vacant tuppenny. Immediately she knew she was going to come again, with the rough scrotum nudging her clitoris over and over as her ecstasy built, built further and then broke in an explosion as her tortured anus clamped tight on the intruding troll cock. At that he too came, the contractions of her anal ring milking him up her bottom until she felt her rectum would burst or the sperm would erupt from her mouth.

It was over, although her body felt as if it were being wrenched inside out as the troll pulled its cock from her hole. With a last thought of how Mojal had made her drunk with the beer in her rectum, Aisla collapsed, unable to support herself as she sank onto the damp sand. Her vagina and anus were gaping, throbbing with pain and dribbling sperm. Every part of her body was soiled with come, her hair caked, her skin slimy, with thick clots over her breasts and face. It was in her mouth too, the taste filling her senses, while she had swallowed so much that her stomach was a round, taut ball, packed with sperm.

She lay still, hazy with the smell of goblin musk, her head swimming from her orgasms, utterly overcome by what had been done to her. Above her the sky seemed to spin, the clouds whirling above her, slowing, stopping as she gradually regained her senses and once more became aware of the roar of the crowd, who she was and where she was.

Pulling herself onto one elbow, she found that the trolls had already been cleared from the arena and realised that she must have been lying still for far longer than she knew. She was near the wall, somewhat to the side of the royal podium, from which brutal faces leered down at her, the sole exception being Sulitea, whose expression conveyed sympathy and fear.

Across the sand men were coming out from the gate, led by a small figure in a black cloak. Behind came others in cloaks trimmed with black, each carrying a leather satchel. Last were guards, supporting a heavy table between them. Aisla pulled herself to a sitting position, feeling the first pangs of horror and panic as the torturers approached. With an effort she stood, her legs trembling beneath her. Two of the torturers were coming towards her, big, powerful men, each with a net and a spear. She backed, turning a look towards the podium. Sulitea’s eyes met hers and she called out in a desperate plea for help, put her wrist to her mouth and bit hard into the broken end of the strap even as Sulitea reacted, grabbing the birdswing axe and hurling it down onto the sand.

Aisla scrambled for the axe, reached it and gripped the shaft. A cry went up from the crowd and a crash of feet stamping in approval as she braced herself and turned to face the torturers. They laughed, grinning and flourishing their nets, tempting her to come on. Aisla waited, feeling the strength flow into her body and her anger rise, then the full rush of power as she started forward and the world turned red around her.

Epilogue – Ateron

‘… ten times her axe cut,’ Sulitea sang out to the crowded hall of Ateron Keep. ‘Ten only, and ten torturers fell dead. Ten men in ten cuts. Who can say as much? What man here?’

With her final words she slammed her goblet down on the table, spraying those nearby with mead. Applause broke out, cheers and shouts of approval, then calls for Aeisla to complete the saga to Sulitea’s credit. Aeisla took a swallow of mead to clear her throat and stood up, glancing shyly around the hall. Uraoth, seated among the Reeves at the high table, was beaming with pride. Setting her goblet down, she tried to put in order what Sulitea had told her of events after her bellyful of troll sperm.

‘As Isteth the Master fell,’ she began, ‘the crowd rose as one, roaring approval of his death. Only on the Royal podium was there disquiet. Mogath had laughed at Sulitea’s act in throwing me the axe, thinking it a pathetic gesture, yet as his torturers fell he snatched for her, bellowing orders to the guards all the while. Sulitea bit his hand and crawled beneath the throne, but with the crowd threatening to become a mob he was forced to turn his attention from her.

‘Confusion grew, with some in the crowd thinking the guards turned not on me, but on them, while others felt I had acquitted myself well enough to be spared my life. The guards, disbelieving that a full squad had been called out to silence a single girl, assumed they were to quell the crowd. The arena erupted in fighting, Ghirais the Priest standing and raising his hands to restore order, making the first motions to call his God.

‘Yet it was not Gan who appeared, but a hideous demon, winged and with the body of a vast toad, summoned by Sulitea. A tongue the colour of dry blood shot out and Ghirais vanished screaming into its awful maw, Mogath died, crushed in a vast hand, and more as Sulitea yelled for vengeance!

‘Those who lived fled screaming as the demon caught up Sulitea, then myself, carrying us high into the air above Zihai and so to Ateron, leaving their King dead, their warriors scattered and their city in turmoil!’