Ingva versus The Acolyte of Death

Ingva peers through the reeds at the perimeter of the camp. Her deep blue eyes survey the scene. It's a small swampy clearing and in the center is a huge pyre, yet unlit. She can see a cauldron of water over slightly glowing coals. There is also a makeshift altar adorned with all sorts of wicked curiosities and totems. Her eyes search further for the prize she has traveled so far to reclaim: a small golden idol dedicated to the Virgin Goddess. The goddess being the primary deity that her fair people revere.

"It could be on the altar?" She wonders, "I've tracked the thief leagues across the Badlands, I'm certain this is where he's made camp and the idol has to be with him."

Before Ingva has time to deliberate further, she hears a stirring in the clearing. The statuesque warrior woman instinctively crouches down, like a cat on the hunt. A slender robed figure silently makes its way around the pyre, shoring up its supports with pieces of hemp twine.

"There he is, the thief!" Ingva thinks, "He's got to be alone, I've explored the perimeter and he's the only sign of life for miles."

What she is thinking is true. There are few living people this far into the Badlands. Very few sentient beings live in this area of the Great Continent. Certainly, there are goblins, ghouls and other monstrosities, but this clearing? This area is lifeless save for the two.

Planning her approach, Ingva could wait for an opportune moment when the thief is sleeping and perhaps sneak into the camp and search for the idol. She doesn't like that plan at all. She's already searched for too long and she's eager to return the idol. Besides, retribution must be paid by the thief. A direct approach is called for. He's alone and not expecting an attack, she decides to act accordingly.

The warrior silently draws her sword, takes a deep breath and slips into the clearing. With absolute silence she begins to close the distance between her and the robed figure, ready to strike. However, Ingva scarcely makes two steps before the figure turns. The figure raises a bony hand at the advancing blonde warrior and utters an incantation in a forbidden dark tongue. Ingva is instantly halted. trapped within her own body, under the influence of some wicked spell.

"You may stand at ease, girl" the man says, his voice reminiscent of the creek of an opening coffin.

Ingva without thought obeys. She relaxes before the hooded man, her arms hanging harmlessly beside her. She wants with every ounce of her being to strike the man down, but is irrevocably entranced.

He approaches the helpless woman, pulling back the hood that hides his face. Ingva is shocked at his visage. It is difficult to tell his age, yet she can see he's not too old, yet certainly not young. Shocks of unnaturally white hair crown his head. Grey skin seems to hang on his skull and dark sunken eyes seem to greedily peek out from their sockets.

"Drop your sword, girl," the gaunt man says, chuckling, "Sometimes I forget that one under the Glamour of Garzor obey orders to a most literal degree."

Garzor. Ingva knows that name. It is a name that is only spoken in hushed tones by evil apprentices. Garzor is the god of death and murder, whose followers are known to sacrifice women to him in wicked sacrificial rites, thus making them eternal concubines of the evil god.

Ingva is in grave danger.

The Acolyte of Death circles around the woman, taking in her form. She's strong, but not overly muscular with powerful legs and wide, shapely hips. There is a hit of muscle beneath the soft skin of her abdomen. Ingva's face is strong and regal, a true beauty with high cheekbones and a pronounced jawline and soft feminine features. Her long blonde hair is braided and tied with a leather strap.

The Acolyte smacks his lips, "Let's get you ready for the rite." He swallows hard, "You will get naked and enter the bath."

Ingva, still parsing out that she is in the command of an Acolyte of Garzor, begins to remove her "armor": a chain loin covering that hangs from her waist, a mail brassier which contains her very ample breasts. She peels herself out of her leather boots and, now helplessly exposed, makes her way to the cauldron as the Acolyte guides her with a bony hand pressing on her ass.

The water is warm and aromatic, it's not unpleasant with hints of nightshade and tobacco flower. At least, it would be more pleasant if she wasn't being prepared for sacrifice to an evil god.

The Acolyte approaches, "Wash yourself, girl" he creaks and begins to comb out her braid, allowing her long blonde hair to fall about her back and shoulders in soft waves.

"Curious," he says as he helps bathe his captive's full breasts with his bony hand. He kneads them, seeing how her nipples react to his touch, he gives them a playful pinch. Ingva, trapped in her own body, can only seethe internally, as her body betrays her.

"I have heard the women of the Wilds do not stand to have a single hair on them below their necks," The Acolyte moves his hands beneath the water and down her body, across her strong middle and ending between her legs."It seems that is true," he whispers, giving her clean smooth mound a gentle tickle with his thin creeping fingers. Ingva would shiver if she could.

"You have a great honor before you, girl, " he continues, his lips near her ear "you will spend eternity in the fiery realm of Garzor serving him as a concubine. You will be most prized in his realm, as he has not yet had a follower of the virgin goddess. You will no doubt spend many eons riding at the end of his monstrous barbed bone cock..."

The Acolyte pauses look Ingva in the eye before continuing.

"Do you really think you found me on your own, girl. Do you think you made it all this way across the Badlands avoiding goblin slavers, wild beasts and Pigmen all on your own?" The Acolyte chuckles menacingly, "No we were under the protection of Garzor, he guided you here to me me, so that I may bring you to serve the Murder God in eternal bondage."

Every bit of her wants to strike him or run or even cry out in anger but the spell is strong, she can not do any action unless it is commanded.

"Rise, girl," the creepy man says with a grin, "It is your wedding night."

The Acolyte adorns Ingva with a heavy iron chain around her neck symbolizing her eternal bondage to Garzor, but aside from that she is naked and naked she stands at attention in the clearing, forced to watch as the Acolyte prepares for the ritual. He lights the pyre with an incantation, then removes an evil looking dagger from the many folds in his robes. He also takes the coveted idol of the Virgin Goddess from his robe and sets it on the altar, facing Ingva and standing as a silent witness to the horrors about to unfold.

The Acolyte takes a good long look at his captive and speaks.

"Before I bind you to Garzor and send your spirit to your new master, I must offer you a mortal taste of the immortal pleasures you will partake in till the End of Days."

With that, he opens his robe and drops it to the ground, thus exposing his thin body and standing naked before his captive. Like the skin on his face, the skin on his body seems to hang there, with little meat between it and his bones. Ingva finds her attention drawn to the only thing on his body that seems to have any sort of weight to him at all: his cock. It's hard to tell if it is really his at all for it is obviously blessed or more likely cursed. It is thick and gnarled and hangs to his knee. It's the same grey color as his skin, but that's the only thing that seems to match the Acolyte, that and the few wisps of unnatural grey hair that adorn its base. The head of the phallus is elongated and wide, its ridge is much longer and deeper than a normal man's cock, a bit reminiscent of a dragon's neck. His shaft, too, is different. It looks gnarled with pulsing veins and knobby bumps upon it as if it has dozens of small stones lay just below the surface of his grey skin.

"Kneel!" the Acolyte says as he steps towards her and as if by command his cock begins to engorge. It lifts throbbing and twisting into a curved erection. It pulses in the glow of the pyre.

Ingva obeys, dropping to her knees and before she can think, she finds his knobbly cock thrust just beneath her nose. It presses against her pink lips. There is nothing she can do. The member has a strange odor. Different, but it is not a natural man smell. Sulfur and earth. No doubt due to the elixir used to transform the cock to it's twisted form.

The Acolyte snarls with frustration, his sunken eyes staring at the beautiful blonde kneeling motionless beneath his cock. He remembers she is under his spell and has to command her, "Pleasure this cock, girl!"

As expected, the command is obeyed instantly and without hesitation. She begins to stroke and kiss on the gnarly member, even if every bit of her mind says to fight. The large bumps on the knobbly shaft are pliable and fleshly. She takes her tongue and runs it up and down the considerable length of it, tasting both a bit of the concoction used to enchant the phallus and the salty sweet taste of the Acolytes flesh. He moans with pleasure and bends his head back. Ingva cups his balls and tries to fit the head into her mouth. Despite the shape it does fit into her mouth, even with a bit of difficulty. The ridges of the head's base press out against her cheeks, it looks as if she has quite the mouthful. She runs her tongue around the head of the cock the best she can, running her hand up and down the bumpy shaft with one hand as she gently massages his ball-sack with the other.

She strokes, sucks and gently kneads. She can feel the heat of the pyre against her naked body as she sucks like she has never sucked on a cock before. This enchantment is powerful.

The Acolyte's moans of pleasure echo throughout the night air.

The ordeal is very confusing for Ingva, who is having difficulty reconciling how on one hand she is trying with every bit of her power to resist, but on the other she is working on his cock like a beggar whore who was just handed a gold coin.

Is there a part of her who likes this? No. It is the dark magic? It must be.

Ingva pulls the distorted head from her mouth, it makes a wet popping sound. She sucks and tickles at the tip of his cock pursing her lips to the hole and sucking.

"Greedy for my seed, girl?" The Acolyte cackles "No, your womb is pledged to the Murder God's burning issue, but tonight I will do my duty and prepare it for our Master."

The Acolyte collects himself.

"Present yourself for mounting, girl," the Acolyte of the Murder God commands, snapping out of the pleasure of the moment so that he may continue the rite.

Ingva unceremoniously stops working the cock. She stands, bends, and turns an exposed ass to her captive, unable to do anything but obey with immediate action. She can feel his bony hand slide up and down the small of her back, stopping to grip her wide hips. With the other hand he guides his monstrous cock, taking the tip and pressing it against her exposed asshole. Perhaps it is only a tease, or perhaps it was something he was considering in the moment, but he decides to enter her more traditionally and slides the tip downward to her smooth and awaiting pussy.

Ingva gasps as he enters her, there is a forceful push to get the head in. It takes a bit of effort but it feels that now that it is in, the ridge will keep the cock inside as long as he is erect. If he is erect as a result of some enchantment, she could be in for a long night, Ingva thinks.

The grey skinned acolyte beings to fuck her. Each bump of his gnarly cock rubbing against the insides of her cunt causes a wave of pleasure over her body. She's a bit shocked and ashamed at how good it feels. She's momentarily unsure if she wants to pull away or participate, as the enchanted cock of the Acolyte begins to pump in and out of her. He grabs her hips and fucks her as hard as he can, the slap of his bony grey hips against her ample round ass echoing into the night air. He stands on his toes and fucks harder. Ingva, enthralled, is unable to do anything but stand bent at the waist as he does the carnal work

"Come on," he says. Caught in the moment, again forgetting she is under his complete command. "Participate in this fuck, bitch!" he barks.

With that command she rocks her hips against his, the slapping of flesh on flesh now grows louder and both Ingva and the Acolyte groan loud at the feeling of the ribbed cock thrusting in and out of her pussy. Now that she is commanded, she can verbalize her physical pleasure. She feels him entering deep, the wicked tip of his cock reaching the end of her and the shaft feels like it is filling her completely. The gnarled bumps sending shiver after shiver as they ripple in and out of her. She has never felt a cock such as this.

Having been lost in the moment, she remembers she's about to be sacrificed. Ingva tries hard to break away, but her body is totally in rebellion. All she can do is fuck, slamming her ass against his hips and feeling the splatter of her juices against her ass with each pounding. She starts to give in, lost in the power of this evil god's spell.

Lost in lust, she gives in and decides she is going to participate in the carnal rite. Ingva wants to press her ass against her captor, grinding and writhing in pleasure to perhaps coax his seed from his body. Curiously enough she does. Her ass rubs against him and she grinds on his cock exactly as she wanted. This is the first time her body obeys her since she was captured. Is there a glimmer of hope?

So, she fucks him, hard and eagerly. She reaches back and pulls his bony ass into her as she pounds with powerful hips and legs. She fucks him so hard he occasionally is knocked off balance. Fortunately for him, the misshapen head of his cursed cock keeps him tethered to his strong blonde captive.

"Yessss" they hiss in unison as pleasure dances through their bodies. Ingva then pivots, with an athletic stretch of her leg he rotates around his cock, the quickness of the turning and the feeling of the spin of the bumps on his cock sends an orgasmic shiver through her body. Now facing him with a firm yet gentle hand, she lays the Acolyte on the ground. His eyes flash with worry for a moment, until she begins again to bounce and ride upon his cock with eager force.

She rides him. Hard. With each pounding of her hips the Acolyte expels a bit of air in a bit of pleasure and a bit of force from the strong, regal blonde's ass slamming into him. His bony hands reach up to knead her large pendulous breasts which bounce with each pump of her pussy on his cock. He finds her pert nipples tantalizing. He moves to bend upward, perhaps to suck upon them, but Ingva, now an active participant, fucks him harder forcing him to lay back with little objection.

The warrior woman finds herself strangely caught up in the pleasure of fucking this twisted little man. It is strange she is enjoying such a gnarled and grotesque cock inside her. For an instance she thinks she could do this all night, and moans loudly with pleasure, but then snaps into the reality that she is in real danger.

She looks down at the gaunt, bony face of the Acolyte as it twists in pleasure and feels a wave of anger in addition to orgasmic pleasure that is rippling through her body. Ingva pulls him close, feeling her ample round breasts smash against his cool, bony body. She wraps her legs around him and rolls over. Now he is on top, but she is still one doing most of the fucking.

Each bump of his cock rubbing the inside of her cunt still causes shivers, she forces him into her harder and her legs squeeze with pleasure as her body is overcome with waves of ecstasy. Her body grips with all her might each time she cums and she cums with more frequency.

She squeezes her legs with orgasmic reflex.

There is a sick crackling sound.

Acolytes gaunt eyes widen.

"Sto.." he gasps, but is cut off as she slams her hips even harder into him as they fuck, still squeezing with her powerful legs.

"Sto.. St.. Sto.. ah.. Sta..er.." The Acolyte stammers. The constant power of her legs squeezing with an angry orgasmic force keeps knocking the breath out of his lungs, preventing further command. The acolyte's mind races, she's strong and his body can't take much physical abuse, for his cock is the only thing enchanted about him. He needs her to release him and soon.

"Release...Maaaah" He is interrupted again by an orgasmic squeeze of Ingva's legs.

Unfortunately for the Acolyte, Ingva obeys him without question. 'Release' is the command, of course, that releases victims from the enchantment. Thinking quickly and knowing that she may have no counter to the dark magics the Acolyte of Garzor may have up his sleeve, she behaves as if she is still enthralled. The beautiful blonde presses her mouth against the Acolyte's, preventing him from saying anything including incantations. For good measure she thrusts her tongue into her mouth and grinds against his cock. Free from the spell, but perhaps allowing herself a touch of pleasure before the endgame, she gives one last eager pound upon his cock.

Ingva squeezes as hard as she can muster with her powerful legs, the sound of popping now fills the night air as his fragile body begins to break under the strength of her power. He gurgles and she pulls her head back, taking in the pained and shocked look of her former captor. His lips move as if to incant, but she squeezes him between her thighs even harder and all he can utter is a groan of pain as she moves her hands to his neck.

Strangely she is painfully aware at the moment and she realizes he is still inside him. His over-sized gnarly cock, despite all the evils of the night, does feel good on some level as it fills her. Perhaps part of the phallus' enchantment? The thought angers her.

With hands around his throat pulls his broken body off her. While not powerfully strong in the arms and shoulders, Ingva's legs are strong and the Acolyte is mostly skin and bones, probably half of his weight is cock, she supposes. So, with a little effort and with a couple athletic spins, she keeps hold of the Acolyte's neck and tosses his broken body into the flaming pyre. Flinging him like a hammer tosser at the Imperial Games. Flame roars as he is engulfed in a wave of flame. For a moment, Ingva thinks she can hear the hint of demonic laughter coming from the flame.

She shivers it off and falls to the ground.

Ingva sits naked, sweaty and exhausted from the trials of the night. Suddenly, she is aware she is naked and alone in the Badlands. She gathers her armor and sword. Ingva picks up the golden idol she had long been searching for and, after scouring the camp for useful supplies, packs up her bag.

She turns North and begins her journey home.