The Creators Ch. 04

"It sure is a lot," I said, my voice small in my throat. Tera heard the anxiety in my voice, and pressed her comforting body closer to me.

"You'll be fine," she smiled, "the trick is to blend in. Just follow my lead, and don't gawk at everything you see."

"We'll be in the brothel district," Justina said from my other side. "I'll take care of Angela, Brandon, don't worry about her. It's not like she can die twice, anyway."

"You will do no such thing!" Tera snapped. "You're staying with me the whole time!"

"I think it would be unwise for us to break the law the moment we enter the city, Mother," Justina said practically, fingering her whore's patch. "So unless you're relocating your meeting to a brothel, we're going to have to split up."

"Take off that fucking patch!" Tera spat, reaching for Justina's cloak. "You are not—"

"Mom," Justina said, putting a calming hand atop her mother's, "I'm almost nineteen, and you still feed me like I'm a babe. We're not in Towerhead anymore; no one's coming to burn us, and I need some independence."

Tera's hand stilled, and her concerned face softened to one of melancholy. "You're going to feed yourself, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

"I am," Justina said, clasping her other hand atop her mother's. "It's time, Mom; it's well-past time, actually."

"I should be there for it," Tera said, her voice verging on tears. "I should be present when you become a woman. You need someone there to—"

Justina pulled her mother into an embrace, and locked lips with the woman. Angela screamed out of Justina's body as mother and daughter exchanged tongues and spit.

"Goddamn it, Justina!" Angela's flustered ethereal face yelled from above. "You were supposed to warn me before you tongue-punched your mom's face!"

Tera could not hear the ghost, but I saw Justina's consuming lips curve in a slight grin as she drank of her mother's lust. The two succubi held each other for a moment longer, and then separated, their bronze fingers in their black manes, their violet eyes staring their love.

"I already am a woman, Mom," Justina smiled, caressing Tera's face, "now let me be a woman."

"Ok Justina," Tera whispered, a tear running down her smiling face, "you're right; I've been too protective. You're not my baby girl anymore." She cupped her daughter's cheek, and then gave her a final kiss, "You and Angela go have fun," she sniffled, "we'll meet at the Oxehead's Inn tonight."

ASTRID

I'd anticipated that Mistress would make me please her men; she said as much before we left for Drastin. I just didn't think she was going to make me do it in front of the entire brothel. I stood atop the table I'd just decapitated a man on, and I took off my armor piece by piece to the jeers and whistles of every whore and patron. These wretched creatures were so far beneath me, they were the dregs of the world, commoners without code or honor, yet I was their entertainment. A stronger valkyrie would be furious, my mother would have dealt out justice with cold wrath, but I only felt fear and shame. Bravery isn't the lack of fear, I told myself, remembering the oaths of the Iona Guard, bravery is facing it.

"Mistress," I whispered to the corrupted god standing next to me atop the table, "I saved your life."

"And I'm grateful," Mistress said, her black and green eyes smirking back up at me, "and this is your reward; look how much everyone loves you! Aren't you happy to be getting so much attention? Does my reward not please you?"

I was naïve, but I wasn't stupid enough to say 'yes.' I unstrapped the leather that bound my torso, and let it fall to the tabletop. I'd already taken off my shoulder-armor, my calf guards, and the padded skirt that concealed my thighs. All that was left were my breast wrap and loin strap. My audience seemed to think that I was giving them a little strip tease, but in reality, I'd been delaying exposing myself in the vain hope that Mistress would be merciful after I'd saved her. She was not, of course, and my overlong undressing only served to rile up the crowd more. I stared outwardly in half-lucid terror, a fugue state of fear and humiliation where every leering face gawked with wide greedy eyes, and every jeering mouth slurred their tones with malice. They were demons, and I was in the pit of hell. I shakenly hooked my finger beneath the clasp of my chest wrap, and pulled it loose. The crowd cheered as my ample breasts jiggled freely from their prison, my nipples standing erect and pointing lewdly at the audience. I was too ashamed to blush, too humiliated to cast my eyes downward. I looked at everyone and no one as I numbly reached down, and pulled my legs out of the loin strap.

"Astrid of Iona!" Mistress exclaimed to the crowd, gesturing dramatically to my naked figure as the onlookers cheered. I wanted to cover myself with my hands, I wanted to fold my wings over my naked body and hide from the world, but I did not. Mistress was still my god, and I would do what she wanted. I stood stoically atop the table, trying desperately to keep from breaking down and crying. Stay strong, I told myself, endure it like a warrior; don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.

"Well," Mistress said, looking up at me, "are you going to show your fans your assets?"

"My... what?" I asked, my voice small in my mouth.

"Bend over," Mistress said cruelly, "and spread your cheeks. Oh, and arch your back a little, and smile, Astrid; we wouldn't want to give off the impression that you're not enjoying yourself."

I turned around, bent until my torso was parallel to the tabletop, reached back, and took a deep breath. I grabbed the succulent fat of my glutes, looked over my shoulder, and glued on a pained smile as I exposed my lewdness to everyone. They cheered louder than ever, and I felt a single tear draw down my cheek, thankfully on the side of my face concealed from the audience. Don't let them see it.

"Oh," Mistress cooed in false consolation, wiping the tear from my face, "it's good to know that this is such a happy moment for you; I was worrying that you didn't like my gift."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said in a shaking voice, my brain seared with the images of the crowd's predatory faces.

"I got you another present," Mistress said, portraying a façade of girlish shyness with her hands clasped behind her back, "I hope you like it."

Her mouth smiled with affection, but her eyes smirked with malevolence; it was a dog collar and leash. I submissively bowed my head for her, and she clasped the last piece of shame around my figure of humiliation. I looked down and saw the word 'slut' glinting from the tag that dangled from the collar. Mistress pushed her hand on my backside, and I dropped to my knees like the loyal bitch she'd labeled me as.

Remember the oaths of the Iona Guard, I told myself, 'though I may die upon the rocks, I will die with my sword in hand.' You will be taken, but you will not succumb to them. You will endure this, and remain yourself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, whores and johns," Mistress called, "I present: Gronk, Hacksaw, Flendian and Grunt; the men you're all wishing you were right now!"

Cheers and applause sounded from the crowd as the four men approached the table at the center of the brothel. Mistress pulled on my collar, and I was forced into a kneeling position with my back held straight; subservient and demure, ready for my gifts. A chill ran up my spine as all of them climbed atop the table together.

"All four of them, Mistress?" I asked, unable to conceal the fear from my demeanor. "At once?!"

"Five if you count me," Mistress smirked, "or do you not desire me any longer?"

"Of course, I do," I stammered, feeling my face flush, "but... how?"

In my mind, sex only happened between two people. Never in my wildest nightmares had I imagined an act with more than one other person, much less five! My god was more than willing to explain it to me.

"You have two hands, don't you?" Mistress asked. I nodded.

"And a mouth," Mistress said, touching her thumb to my trembling lips, "and a cunt, and last of all, you have an asshole. That makes five, which is just perfect for us."

I could practically feel myself growing pale. My anus?! Why would anyone want to put anything there?! Oh Great Creators, they're going to tear me to pieces!

The men made a show of hyping up the crowd, working them into a frenzy as I felt myself growing weak with terror. My stomach churned, my head grew faint, and my heart sank in my chest.

Stay strong; it's only pain. The men turned around, casting their merciless greedy eyes on me, surrounding my kneeling form, pulling their pants down and showing me the instruments of my torture. Flendian was blessedly normal as far as I could tell, while Grunt was thick and stout, Gronk was way too big, and Hacksaw... there was no way Hacksaw was fitting anywhere, but by the look on his face, I could tell he was going to try. Mistress ranked somewhere between Grunt and Gronk, and I stared fearfully at the thing I once craved for. She tugged on my leash and jerked me forward as Gronk clasped a strong hand about the braided crown of my head. I opened my mouth to scream, and regretted it instantly.

The orc's cock rammed between my lips, expanded my jaw and buried into my throat. I gagged ferociously, feeling on the verge of vomiting, but my experience with Willowbud the day before saved me from making a mess. His pelvis mushed into my face, and the stink of his loins wafted into my squished nose. Spit leaked from my defiled mouth, tears streaked from my bulging eyes, and a scream choked from my stuffed throat. The crowd roared as Gronk pulled out, strings of spit and precum snapping from my violated lips. I was allowed a precious moment to cough and prepare myself before he grabbed two handfuls of my braids, and rammed in again, and again and again. My hair flailed, my throat gurgled, and my face pressed mercilessly into the flat of his pelvis. Two hands grabbed my own, and I felt my fingers closing around Flendian and Grunt. I stroked them dutifully, rigorously, hoping beyond hope that I could finish them off before they entered me. I felt familiar hands reaching between my legs, and I looked around the bulging piece of meat violating my throat to see Mistress smiling up at me as she positioned herself between my legs. Her hands spread my legs further, and her wonderful heat pushed inside me. For a moment, I felt some of the pleasure I had shared with her the day before, but that joy was dashed when I came to a sickening realization that Hacksaw was walking behind me. NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!

"Are you ready, Astrid?" Mistress laughed beneath me, holding herself static in my pussy as she spread my cheeks for the half-giant. "Because this is going to hurt like nothing you've ever felt before."

I abandoned trying to stroke Grunt and Flendian to completion, and instead, pushed against Gronk's pelvis with all my might. It was useless, the orc was too strong. I contemplated for a desperate moment about biting down, but he never gave me the chance. He pulled out just as I felt an alien pressure against my puckered anus. My head whipped around, and I stared at Hacksaw with all the pleading, manic terror I could muster.

"Don't!" I screamed, but he just squirted olive oil onto his enormous phallus, and grinned. The scars on his face deepened with his cruel mirth, and he pushed forward. The pressure increased, and I began to writhe and struggle atop Mistress. Grunt and Flendian caught hold of my flailing wrists, and Hacksaw pinned me atop Mistress with a firm hand to my tailbone. The pressure increased. I felt my pelvic floor indenting, the skin of my taint stretching as it was pushed inward. The pressure increased. The tiny aperture of my filthy hole dilated, and I shrieked in terror as it slowly expanded. The crowd cheered and laughed as I thrashed desperately; my hips wriggling, my legs kicking, and my arms straining with all their might. The pressure increased, and increased, and increased. I looked around frantically, searching for anything that could stop this, anyone that could save me. There was no one. I was in hell. The pressure broke.

My head reeled backward, my hips slammed downward, my back bowed in a spine-cracking arch as my mouth shrieked until the sound left my chest. I felt myself stretch around him, expand beyond my limits, cling to him in a hold so tight it seemed that my gripping circle would tear. He pushed through the tender coil of my anus, flattened my rectal sheath against the muscles of my insides, and forced my bowels into my own body. He kept going; gradually opening my locked channel, burning his heat into the reaches of my most sensitive entrance, fighting against my shitting muscles and pressing through virgin flesh that was never meant to feel the touch of another. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt, beyond anything I'd endured in training or combat. It was an invasion of my very essence, of my pride and sanctity, but my thoughts had long since passed such trivial matters. I was agony, the very embodiment of it, and then... then I was something else.

His pelvis finally pressed against my cheeks, and he held me there in stasis, forcing me to acclimate to him. Through gritted teeth that leaked with spit, and bulging eyes that blurred with tears, I adapted to him. I surrendered myself to his invasion, I loosened the tension in my body, and I felt myself grow limp where I had been clenching. There was a moment of what I can only describe as peace; a blissful serenity where I simply gave up, and allowed it to happen. The pain began to dissipate, the tension began to unwind, and I began... to like it. It was absurd, really, to garner pleasure from something that had been so excruciating, to enjoy something so disgusting and wrong, but I couldn't lie to myself; I liked it. I liked it a lot. For if a place was so sensitive that it could inflict such pain, then it could just as easily give me great pleasure, and he stretched me so much that my entire rectal channel was taut and clinging to him, every nerve stimulated by some surface of his reaming meat. I could feel his heartbeat through the throbs of his shaft, and I could feel his tip breaching the sphincter of my colon, opening my bowels for his pleasure. For my pleasure. The scream that had passed through my lips waned and died, and I became languid atop my god. My breasts pressed into hers, my belly unclenched and distended into her warm stomach, and my quivering tensed thighs sloped into a spread-legged sprawl. I could feel her cock pressing against Hacksaw's from the other side, I could feel them stretching my taint into a flat glistening ribbon, I could feel them pulsating against the vulnerable spaces within me, and I could feel myself leaking from the arousal of it all. They began to thrust, and I began to moan. What are you doing?! Stop! Don't give them the satisfaction! Fight it! Remember your oaths!

"Do you like it, Astrid?" Mistress grinned up at me, her head titled back in pleasure, her black eyes cast downward and her lips parted.

"Yes Mistress!" I moaned a whining, whorish tone I'd never expressed before. "I don't want to, but it feels too good!"

"You're getting gangraped in front of everyone, and you're moaning like a used whore," Mistress chuckled, squeezing my breasts viciously, prompting my whining moan to raise in pitch as I savored the wonderful pain. "I'm disappointed, Astrid; I thought you had more fight in you."

"I'm sorry, Mistress!" I cried in shame and pleasure, shifting backward to take them as deeply as I could, "but I can't help myself!"

Hacksaw was thrusting with long, gradual motions, penetrating deeply, forcing me to feel every inch of his girth as it ruined me. I felt cool air on the sheath of my anus, and realized in a mixture of horror and arousal that part of me was clinging to him as he pulled out. I looked back, and my eyes widened as I saw pink glistening flesh wrapped around the first few inches of the half-giant. He grinned wickedly at my astonished expression, and I couldn't keep myself from returning a slutty smile back. Get a hold of yourself, woman! That bastard is raping you! Instead of scowling at him, however, I bit my lip with playful exuberance, and began shifting my hips back. What the fuck is wrong with you?! Mistress locked into Hacksaw's rhythm, and ran alongside him against my fleshy division, pressing my nerve-wracked membrane with their vile heat, squishing it between their torturing members. I let out a delighted giggle that was punctuated with breathy moans, and I winked at the half-giant as I winked my anus around him. You'll never save Willowbud if you fall so easily. My back arched behind me, curving my ass upward to deepen my penetration, moving on whorish instincts that alarmed me with how natural they came. You can't even save yourself. My conscience battled with my pleasure, creating a duality of shame and indulgence, but oh gods, the shame made it better! Mistress sunk her fingers into the fat of my ass, spread me wide, and then hammered into me with brutal motions. Hacksaw gripped my hips and matched Mistress's pace, smashing his pelvis into me with thrusts that sent my body lurching, impaling me so deeply I could feel him in my guts, stretching me so wide he rubbed against Mistress with each horrific plunge into my ruined channel, now just a stinking fleshy tunnel that clung loosely to his grotesque fat meat, a shithole for a pig. Oh, how I loved it! I writhed between them, moving with chaotic mania, reacting violently to every motion, reveling in the depravity, relishing the pain that heightened the pleasure, screaming and wailing like the whore Mistress wanted me to be. I wanted to sew my lips shut and endure it with valkyrie stoicism, but each attempt to keep my honor was feeble in the heat of such sensations, a raping so pleasurable that my very voice was forced against its will to sing out my ecstasy!

The crowd roared their approval at my lost equanimity, cheering my name as I grinded desperately between my molesters. Their attention no longer humiliated me, but excited me, even flattered me. They weren't here to leer and insult, but to bear witness to my lust, to watch me perform something extraordinary. They're here to watch a valkyrie break all her oaths. They're here to see you betray yourself and your entire people, and you enjoy their attention. You're pathetic.

I smiled up at Gronk, and he grinned down at me. How could I have ever thought he was ugly? His body was laced with chords of muscles, his hair framed his fearsome face in black dreads, and his cock stood rigid and veiny, waiting for me to taste his delicious filth. My smile widened to gaping quirked lips, and I drew out my tongue as I took his entire length into me. You covet the lust of beasts. You're no better than a succubus.

Gods, it felt good to be so full. Every hole was stuffed, every possibility was exploited. I indulged in the excess of men, greedily took in all that I could, reveled in the extravagance of my sexual avarice. I reached to my sides, and covetously wrapped my fingers around Grunt of Flendian. I stroked them softly, alluringly, no longer trying to finish them off, but preparing them for their turns inside me. Does everyone get a turn in you? Why not let the whole brothel have their fill, you pathetic whore! My hips rocked back and forth behind me; my pussy consuming Mistress with clenching muscles, and my anus simply opening to accept the stretching impalement of Hacksaw. I could feel my insides being forced upward between them, I could feel the indentation of Mistress's cock protruding from my pelvis, and I could feel my anus gaping; every sensitive, vulnerable swath of flesh brutally stimulated to the point of numbing euphoria. I hummed my whorish moans around Gronk's cock, translating the pleasure of my penetration into the passionate consumption of his wonderful shaft. I stared up at him with baby-eyes as I rotated my lips around his base, laughing a muffled tone when he groaned in satisfaction. Mistress wasn't lying; I really was good at sucking dick. And you're proud of that?! I was.