Ihonette's Gambit Ch. 01

Author's Note: This is based on The Alarian tales of Perversion by Philo Hunter, and is set on that world. This is my take on a sequel or continuation to one of their short stories," Strudert's Good Deed." You needn't have read the short story to understand what is going on though. But if you enjoy lots of breast play, corruption, voluptuous curves, and themes of impregnation do check out their stuff. Anyways onto the story. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually write, but it was still fun to do. Anyways as always feedback and comments welcome.

XOXO

Chapter 1

Ihonette smiled, reading the signage above the poorly kept tavern. The building was a small thing nestled in the armpit of two equally unkempt buildings and had the air of willful ignorance. And that was to say nothing of the smell that suffocated the area. She might have spent the last decade or so buried in all manner of unwashed humanity and bestial musk, but even she had to wrinkle her nose at the rancid scent that seemed to permeate every portion of the small town. As it may have been though, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact she'd found one of them.

He wasn't the one she wanted to find the most, but he'd be the first and was about as good as any place to start. Besides, she thought, stepping into the building, she'd like to see just how eager he was when she wasn't unconscious.

The tavern's interior wasn't much better than its exterior. Worn furniture, haggard patrons, and stale air. It was for all intents and purposes a shithole. She supposed she shouldn't have expected better, given the man who was said to be the owner, but still... He could have done better, she mused, strutting towards the bar, and catching the eyes of everyone in the place.

The barkeep smiled as she settled onto one of the bar's creaking stools, the leathers of her pants straining around her plump behind and thick thighs.

"What can I get you?" He asked, his voice aged, but no less recognizable.

Humans aged like flies, Ihonette thought, smiling back at her former party mate. He was in his middling years as far as she could tell, given the wrinkles etching his temples, his increased girth, and the specks of gray peppering his once mahogany locks. She had no idea which of his middling years he was, but then again she'd never been particularly good at doing so, and her years as a drooling cocksleeve hadn't made that skill any better. Whatever the case was, he didn't recognize her, not that she could blame him. Between the years spanning their last meeting and what looked like the inklings of a clouding of his vision, she was now to her former appearance as a butterfly was to a caterpillar. Besides the pointed ears of her elfin heritage, her brown hair, dark eyes, and tall stature, she may as well have been a different person.

She was now more or less the product of years of continuous sex, dozens of births, and other acts of debauched sexual perversions. Her once waifish hips were now the wide matronly shape of a brood mare, her ass was a bountiful pillow with more than enough cushion to handle the most brutal of thrusts, what had once ben a flat and taut stomach was now padded with enough fat to provide the barest hints of a paunch, her once paper thin lips were now the glossed and full forms perfect for sucking dick. She was a walking wet dream. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by the leering patrons watching her every step, and her tight leathers and high-heeled boots which served to double down on this.. And that was to say nothing of her tits. Though he'd seen and enjoyed the fruits of the bastard Strudert's rune-craft, she'd long ago outgrown the pitiful globes he'd cursed her with. Her mummeries were now the equal of melons and were better described as udders, given how often they leaked their creamy contents throughout the day.

"An ale and a bed," she replied, resting her elbows onto the chipped but somehow well-kept counter.

Nodding, he set down the mug he'd been busy wiping down," It'll be five copper for the drinks and ten silver for the night," he said, his eyes never once leaving the bulging mounds of her exposed cleavage and the thumb-sized ruby of her necklace nestle between them.

It was down right disrespectful, not the lasciviousness of his gaze but the price. It was downright exorbitant. Did he think her a fool or a bumbling maiden? It was enough to make her want to gut him right there and there with the rapier at her hip. But that wouldn't do, she still needed information and she wanted to at least enjoy herself.

So still smiling she reached between her breasts, plucked out her coin purse and laid out her payment before returning the sizeable purse into the valley of her mummeries.

Smiling and looking like an idiot, who'd never seen a pair of tits before, he took the money and returned a mug of barely frothing ale and a rusted key a moment later.

"So, what brings you to Dogs-shire?" he asked, returning to wiping down the chipped mug.

"You know," she said, shrugging before taking a sip of the piss-colored fluid," just passing through between adventuring."

"Oh," He said, nodding," you know, I used to be an adventurer too back in the day."

"Oh," she said, quirking an eyebrow, her lips hidden behind the rim of her mug.

"Yup," he answered, pointing to the bow mounted above the planks of insect bitten wood, that served as a shelf for his subpar tavern," was a ranger. Even had a bona-fide party an all," he beamed.

"A party?"

"Yup, had a cleric, a fighter, a rune-priest, and a gods damned Imrendale elf," he finished, spitting out the final words with a glob of phlegm onto the floor.

"Is that so?" She asked, feigning shock," what happened?"

"Nothing the bitch didn't deserve."

"I bet," she added, smothering the need to roll her eyes. He'd be getting what he deserved soon enough.

"Yup."

"So, what happened to the rest of your party?"

"Not much," he answered, shrugging," after the bitch, we all kinda went our separate ways. Crisa went back home, last I heard John was back in the pits or something, and Strudert," he said, shaking his head wistfully," lucky bastard got rich and became a lord or something up North."

"I see," she said, taking another sip of the piss poor ale.

"So, sides adventuring, is there anything else you do?"

"Oh, you know," she said, shrugging," a bit of performance here and there."

"That so," he said, trying not to sound too interested," what sort of performances?"

Blushing," you know... dancing and things."

"Oh," he said with barely contained interest," what sort of dancing?"

"I don..."

"Think you can put on a show for us?" He interrupted.

Her blush deepened, her loins throbbed in anticipation, and before she could voice her response the bumbling buffoon blurted," you lot wanna see a show?"

The drunken idiots cheered, and her response became a moot point. Not that it mattered, it was no different than what'd happened over the past fear years anyway.

Smiling pleasantly, she stood, unlatched the clasp of her cloak, and set it alongside her travel pack. Her pussy continued to throb as she felt the eyes of every man in the tavern on her body. It was exciting and she wanted more.

Setting aside her weapon she turned to face the horny crowd, plucked out a glittering thumb-sized crystal from her belt, tossed it onto a table, and sauntered forward as the thrum of drum music began thudding from the azure crystal.

With her nipples aching and her heart racing towards a gallop she sashayed her way towards the closest patron. A burly, wart-nosed man with a heart-shaped tattoo inked onto his tree trunk like arm.

He licked his lips, her hips swayed with exaggerated motion, and within a handful of heartbeats she'd glided her way towards him. Leaning forward and giving the man a face full of her bosom she cooed sweet nothings into his ear.

He reached and she deftly stepped away, trailing a finger on his shoulder to the laughter of the crowd.

She'd barely even started, and they were already clay in her hands.

Drinking in the patrons' cheers, she dove fully into the show. She had no memory of when she'd learned to dance, but the memories baked into her muscles and the hazy remembrance of her time as a cum guzzling doll, worked in her favor now. She supposed she should have been thankful for whichever mongrel had made her dance like a wanton whore, but she really didn't care.

Throwing her body this way and that, her bountiful assets adding to her lustful gyrations, she made her way through the boisterous crowd. She weaved, teasing, and cooing with every step. She hugged, smothering the men's faces within her bosom, letting them inhale her creamy yet sweat laced scent. They inhaled, inflaming their lusts. They groped and fondled as she ground her leather-bound body upon them. She was drenched, her skin gleaming beneath the dim lighting of the tavern as she basked in their lascivious adoration.

And as the music reached its crescendo, she found herself grinding her ass on the throbbing erection of a painfully gangly patron. His passable phallus was engulfed between the valley of her still covered bum as she gyrated to the beat of the music. She moved, bouncing up and down the straining tend of his breeches. He groaned reaching for her, but with a deft shift of her body she turned and buried the man's face into her tits.

He grunted, the music thumping at its climax as a shudder ran through his body as he creamed his pants.

Heaving, she let go of the panting man, bowed to her new fans, gathered her things,

and sauntered up to her room.

They would come. More importantly he would come.

As predicted, they came, knocking at her door, each willing to pay for time between her legs. And as much as Ihonette wanted to spread her legs and have each of the filthy men plow her till they were all insensate, she denied all of them. It pained her sensibilities and her quim and teats throbbed in protest with each rejection, but she held on, strewing in her anticipation.

And with the moon nearing its zenith and her drenched panties long ago abandoned, a knock came upon her door. Buzzing with barely restrained eagerness she opened her door and smiled, welcoming him in. He looked a bit tired but was no more worse for wear than he'd been when she'd entered the tavern.

Sitting on the threadbare mattress he called a bed the former ranger looked up and started," so how..."

"Sssshhh," Ihonette cooed, silencing him with a finger on his chapped lips," let me," she added, nibbling his ear lobe. She worked her way down, kissing his cheek, the crook of his neck, to his collar bone all the while running a hand across his fattened but still muscular body.

He groaned beneath her ministrations as his calloused hands groped her bare bum. She'd long ago abandoned her travel clothes and was in nothing but a thigh-length nightgown with fabric so sheer, she may as well have been naked for all it did. Not that either of them were complaining. He was fart to entranced by the feel of the pliant flesh of her plump derriere and the gentle sway of her tits with their dusky areolas and suckable teats. And she'd spent more than enough time in nothing but a collar to care.

Feeling his meaty finger prod the wrinkled doughnut of her ass, she purred into his chest, inhaling the rank scent of his humanity and his filthy tavern. Intermingled, the sensations coaxed a trickle of juices from her already sodden cunt. With his dirty finger slipping ever so roughly into her well-worn backdoor and his face buried in the furrow of her breasts, she moaned, arching her back in bliss.

It'd ben awhile since she'd had something stuffed into her overly sensitive backend, and it almost drove her to a...

Clenching her sphincter around his probing and prying finger she breathed out the inklings of her climax and returned to work. There was still much to do, and she couldn't lose control. Not this early at least.

Bending over with her ass raised like a bitch in heat and with his hands forced away from her butt, she kissed his rounded gut and salivated at the drooling pole tenting his dirtied breeches. Angling her head, she set to work on the knot anchoring his pants to his girthy frame with her teeth. So, with practiced ease it came undone, freeing the oozing shaft, that was her prize.

With her eyes locked onto the rather average-sized prick with its spattering of pulsating veins, she knelt between his hairy and spread legs. Licking her fellatio crafted lips, she set to work.

Starting at the triangle between his hairy pigeon egg-sized testicles and the base of his cock, she worked her way up. She licked, plastering wet kisses along the length of his twitching tool. She massaged his jewels while her lips worshipped like a zealot to religion. She luxuriated in the taste of his bitter watery pre and the salty sweat underlying its flavor while her nose drank in his musk. Through it all though, she left his glans alone. And in its reddened frustration it continued to drool more and more pre, till the tavern owner reached for her head.

Sensing this, she licked her way up the throbbing vein that lined the underside of his cock until she reached the tip and swallowed him in a single stroke.

He groaned.

She hummed, eliciting another shudder from him, her eyes never leaving his. Humming once more around the meat pole stuffing her throat, she began bobbing. She sucked, treating the undulating tunnel, that was her throat like a hole, that needed to be plunged. And he writhed in pleasure, twitching, and moaning each moment of her ministration. Feeling his phallus throb and hearing him grunt as he once more reached for her head, his dick prepping to spew his load; she drew herself up, letting go with a pop. Still on the verge of cumming, she slid her thumb into the groove between the underside of his dick and his scrotum.

She pressed.

He gasped and she smiled.

"Can't have you blowing before you enjoy these," she purred, hefting her leaking breasts.

He nodded dumbly, still catching his breath.

Taking that as her cue, she shrugged out off her flimsy night gown. With mummeries in hand, she spit into the valley of her tits and enveloped his spit-soaked shaft.

He groaned and she shuddered, clenching her core in an attempt to stifle the mini orgasms sparking to life within her udders. The curse, that was the rune etched into her flesh had turned her tits into what were essentially highly sensitive erogenous zones and her years as a cum bucket had only made them more sensitive.

Realizing it would be fruitless to completely attempt to suppress her sparking orgasms, she rode them, smothering his slick shaft in tune to them. She heaved and hulled her milky flesh bags, leaving both of them flushed and panting. As her pace increased and the beads of milk from her tits became a steady stream and his cock continued to drool copious amounts of pre, Ihonette found herself drooling. And as their fluids intermingled into a congealed slop of gooey stickiness and the former adventurer's breathing became even more ragged, the curvaceous elf leaned forward and engulfed his rod.

"Fuck."

She sucked.

He came, groaning and tensing as he spewed rope after rope of his watery seed into her ravenous chasm. She slurped it down, creaming herself in conjunction to his climax.

Heartbeats later and with a satisfying pop, she let go of his quickly flagging dick. Meeting his eyes, she opened her mouth, revealing the gooey pool of her efforts. His seed was bitter with a tinge of salt. Twirling her tongue, she played with his cum, showing it all as she did so.

Satisfied and with his gaze still locked onto her, she swallowed.

"Gods you're a whore."

She smiled, licking her lips, and dragging a stray strand of pubic hair into her mouth.

"Thank you," she beamed.

Still heaving," I should," he started, only to be cut off by a kiss. It was rough, sloppy, and her tongue dove into his rank mouth. Their tongues battled, danced, and soon enough he was groping her ass and pulling her towards him. With his fingers digging into her fat ass and her breasts continuing to leak their creamy contents, she broke the kiss, leaving a spittle bridge between their lips.

"Fuck me," she cooed, caressing his once more engorged prick.

There was a question in his muddy eyes, but it was nothing compared to the hunger she'd stoked in his aged body.

So, without another thought and a bestial utterance, he took her.

She wailed, drenching their groins in her juices as his cock speared past the meaty lips of her bare cunt and into the furnace of her womanhood. Fully hilted, he tightened his grip and bounced her upon his lap with all the zeal of a man driven.

Each impalement rocked her body.

Each buck jostled her mummeries.

Each pummeling squirted another spray of cunt syrup from her pussy.

And as their bestial rutting continued with her tits jiggling this way and there, he bit down, latching onto one leaking teat.

"That's it!" She shrieked," suck my tis!"

He did; she came, and he followed a heartbeat later. He bathed her sodden walls, and she drank him in, all the while his mouth never left her tits.

By the time he'd stopped painting her walls white, he was still hard and the heat behind his eyes had only grown.

Letting go of her nipple with a bead of milk trailing down his chin and without another word, he tossed her onto the bed.

She yelped.

He was on her, looming like a beast, his manhood drooling and harder than ever.

She spread her legs, spread her battered cunt, and cooed," fuck me."

And he did, fucking like a rutting animal. He cared not for her pleasure and she took it all, feeling his bulk press her into the cheap excuse for a bed, his churning testicles slapping her ass as his dick attempted to carve her vagina into a shape befitting its work. All of this she enjoyed, wrapping her limbs around his sweaty, panting frame like a spider ensnaring its prey. She writhed and luxuriated in it all, moaning and climaxing from his wanton pounding.

And so, they went, fucking, cumming, fucking, cumming, and fucking some more. It all blurred into a lustful cum-soaked mess. And before he knew it, the tavern owner was on his back and Ihonette had her face buried in his sweaty matted crotch.

~Douglass

Exhausted and soaked in more than enough sweat to drown a pig, Douglass, former ranger, and current tavern owner, looked down. The elf, he still had no idea what her name was, was busily nuzzling at his balls and limp dick. He'd not fucked so hard or so much in years. And even then it'd not been as intense as it'd been with the elf. She was something else, and he wanted more. Though from how worn his body was he doubted even a rejuvenation potion would work.

"You were," he began.

"You know," she interrupted," I'm disappointed."

He quirked an eyebrow, but before he could question her, she continued.

"But I suppose that was to be expected," she said, shoving his flaccid member aside," the last time we did this I was unconscious, so there wasn't much of an expectation I suppose," she added.

"Huh?" What was she talking about? He'd think he'd remember if he'd ever fucked a woman like her before. There was no way he'd ever forget something like that. She was just so...

"Then again, it was supposed to be a hate fuck," she said.

He furrowed his brows, meeting the elf's gaze as she loomed over his prone form like some predator.

"What...? Who...?"

She smirked," I suppose I don't look much like I did back then, Douglass," she said," though," she paused, tapping her chin," I did have these tits, even though they are bigger now."

It was then he saw it, the rune.

"Iho..."

She smiled.