The Duchess of Lust Ch. 02

The shout came out as barely more than a whisper. The smoke darkened, shifted, and again those two golden eyes appeared. They remained for a few moments, staring at her from the smoke. They appeared to be human eyes, despite the glowing golden hue, and regarded her with curiosity and obvious hunger.

But what sort of hunger?

The eyes vanished.

She wondered if it was the same being that had ripped her into the portal, or something else entirely.

"We mean you no harm!" she cried out again. "We are only here by accident, we-"

"No accident," a low, silky voice rumbled from behind her. Sarya whirled, but saw nothing. "You used an ancient ritual to breach into this place. Into our home. For the first time in eons, a mortal walks in our hunting grounds."

She swallowed.

"Fine," she murmured. "It was not an accident. But we do not intend to hurt you or take from you. We just wished to find a way through, a passageway so I could help my people."

"So desperate," the voice rasped, coming from all sides. "But how desperate, exactly? Would you give your life, your blood, your soul for your people?"

She answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

The voice laughed, the sound seeming to reverberate deep within her.

"Lucky for you, then, mortal, that I am not one of those spirits who seizes souls. Such...trifling pursuits."

The voice still came from everywhere, yet grew closer and louder, as if the spirit was standing right in front of her, right beside her, and right behind her, all at once.

"My friend?" she asked. "Where is he? Is he safe?"

"You care so much for your people, and for this 'friend.' Such attachment is...strange. Noble, in an odd way, but such concepts have little value to us."

"You did not answer the question," Sarya said, shaking with both irritation and fear.

"Oh, yes. He is quite, quite safe. A companion of mine has taken an interest in him, thanks to the power that surrounds him. He walks with a strange strength that no mortal should bear." There came a sniffing sound, right from behind her. She whimpered with fear, but also couldn't deny the heat welling up within her.

She hadn't had a man since her night with King Ulrik and his champions, and that sultry, low voice held a certain dark appeal.

"And so, stranger, do you. Power swirls around you, in an odd way. Like the lingering heat from a flame."

Sarya frowned and thought for a moment.

"A ritual," she realized. "I took part in a ritual to a strange foreign god. A lust deity, known as the Spirit of the Dancing Forest."

The voice chuckled.

"You mortals are so amusingly insistent with naming everything. But yes, I know of that one. She is...a cousin, to borrow a term of your own."

She swallowed.

"She smiled favorably upon my offering. So shall you smile favorably upon us as well, and let us pass?"

A half minute of silence followed. That hand brushed against the back of her neck, and she shivered and moaned. The glowing golden eyes appeared, just to her left, then vanished.

"I can sense it," the spirit hissed. "Your memories of that ritual. I can practically hear your cries, mortal. I can smell your arousal from that evening, I can taste the sweat that rolled down your back."

The memories flared up...memories of greedy, scarred hands grasping her soft curves, of thick cocks shoved into her mouth, her pussy, her ass. She failed to suppress a moan and a shudder.

"But those men were but mortals, like you. Weak and ineffectual and inexperienced."

Sarya almost laughed at that. Ulrik and his champions had given her the night of her life, and she could hardly have called them weak.

"You doubt this?" the spirit hissed.

"Yes," she admitted. "Those men...the things they did to me..."

"Weak, amateurish work," the spirit snorted. "Their deeds were but the ineffectual skill of a raw recruit, a fledgling artist, an apprentice smith. Their lust, their strength...it pales when compared to the power of this land, to the power of my kind."

Her eyes fluttered, secretly hoping that this strange entity would prove that.

Sarya soon got her wish.

The smoke and mist danced all around her, rendering her all but blind. Those unseen hands gently pushed against her shoulders, guiding her down towards the ground so she was on her hands and knees. She settled on the rough, dry grass with a squeak, then felt those warm, strange hands grasp her ankles. Her eyes fluttered as the spirit gently shoved her legs apart.

Sarya looked over her shoulder, but the mists obscured everything. She might as well have been wearing a blindfold...a fact that only aroused her further.

Gods...this was even more wicked than her night with King Ulrik and his champions. An orgy to save her city was one thing, but to give herself to an unseen spirit?

Her sex dampened even more at the thought.

The spirit laughed, the sound sending shudders through her.

"You ache for this, mortal, don't you?" he chuckled.

"Yes," she whispered, blushing fiercely.

"That ache is shared," the spirit admitted.

Unseen hands grasped at her sweaty gown and lifted it up to her hips. The fabric rustled against her soft skin, and she bit down on her lip to stifle a needy, half-fearful moan. Another shudder ripped through her as the smoke danced closer to her, covering her skin in a warm embrace, and those hands reached for her silky undergarments and slid them down her trembling legs.

The spirit stopped, and she heard a low, hungry growl echo around her. She answered with a soft moan.

A warm puff of air brushed over the back of her thighs as she felt the spirit's breathing. That breath grazed upwards, and each passing second drew forth a wriggle from the duchess.

A low, gruff cry echoed through the smoke. She raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the spirit's teasing.

"Another spirit has taken notice of your companion," he explained in a low rasp. She grinned a little, wondering exactly how that other spirit was treating Ketrik, and hoped he was enjoying the strange experience as much as she was.

"Trust me," the spirit continued. "He is in capable hands. As are you."

Those hands grasped her backside, parting her cheeks a little. The spirit let out a rumble of approval, then a tongue flicked against her sex. She yelped and twitched, bucking her hips backwards, but the spirit grasped her all the more tightly.

He chuckled, then licked her again. The tongue seemed thinner, wetter and rougher than from what she'd experienced from her usual lovers. It was strange, a bit unnerving...and it felt wonderful. The spirit licked her again, firmer that time, building up a slow, easy rhythm against her folds. Within moments, she was absolutely dripping, much to the spirit's obvious, vocal delight. He let out little growls and coos of approval as he licked her, seemingly content just to taste, to explore, to tease.

"More," Sarya murmured.

The spirit chuckled, the sound thrumming against her dripping pussy. That long, strange tongue teased at the entrance to her sex for a moment, even squirming inside. Her eyes widened, having never felt a tongue work like that before, but the teasing was brief.

She whimpered and wriggled, then the tongue traced up from her sex, towards her ass. Her mouth gaped as that inhuman tongue circled around her rear entrance, teasing the sensitive skin and sending ripples of warm bliss through her lower body. Her back tensed, and then warm fingers reached up, brushing once over her folds.

Two of them pushed inside of her pussy with one deep, swift thrust that sent her mind reeling. She pitched forward, raising her backside to give the unseen entity even more access to her body.

The spirit took advantage, his tongue flicking firmly against her ass, while those fingers began a swift, steady pace inside of her. They felt much like the fingers of a human, if a touch longer and thicker, as if she was being filled by a thick barbarian cock once again.

But thoughts of her past lovers vanished from her mind. The lewd, wet sounds of the fingering echoed in the smoky forest around her, but those sounds were soon drowned out by her delighted chirps and agonized moans. Her juices dripped onto those unseen fingers, down her thighs and onto the dry grass. One of her hands clasped at the ground, while the other reached down, shoving beneath her bodice so she could tease at her own breast. Her fingers gave herself a soft pinch, just in time with a deep thrust of those fingers.

"Gods," she cursed.

The spirit's voice reverberated around her and through her, even as his tongue continued to flick against her ass.

"No. No gods here, mortal. Only me."

Those words made her shudder just as much as that tongue and those fingers.

The spirit continued to feast, that wily tongue slipping inside of her ass for a few inches. The bizarre sensations sent shocks through her sweaty form. The strange tongue and those skilled fingers turned the duchess into a mewling, needy mess. For the moment, she cared not about Fellhaven, nor even Ketrik's fate, or her desire to escape that strange realm.

The spirit was right. There were no gods there...only him.

This realm was his, and his alone...and she was his alone, too.

The fires of pleasure burned brighter, so much so that she had to yank her hand away from her breast to steady herself. Her cheek rested against the rough, dry grass, but she barely felt it thanks to the agonizing bliss rising from her sex and ass. She mouthed a desperate moan, a needy plea for more...and the spirit obliged.

Abruptly he switched. His dripping fingers moved, and one slid tenderly inside her ass, while his tongue took a brief break before moving to fill her pussy. The long, inhuman tongue slid deep inside her and wriggled, the sensations unlike anything she'd felt before.

His other hand saw to her clit: the warm, firm fingers circled expertly, as if he could read her mind to identify just the exact place to caress.

Sarya climaxed within moments, letting out a piercing shriek. Her fluids coated his tongue and fingers, her ass clenched around him, her chest heaved for air.

But the spirit did not stop. He continued to feast, continued to plunder her ass and pussy. The climax stretched on, her wails rose higher.

But the spirit still did not relent. That inhuman tongue and those astoundingly skilled fingers continued to work: thrusting, licking, rubbing in perfect time.

The first orgasm finally started to die, the embers of agonizing pleasure fading...before being reignited as the demon's fingers sped up, grew more firm. A second climax erupted, then stretched on. The moment that the pleasure started to fade, a third orgasm struck. She wailed, thrashed and cried out. Her moisture stained her inner thighs and the grass below her, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

And still, the spirit showed no mercy. Again and again, his fingers and tongue sent her to the heights of bliss, finding sensitive spots that even Sarya did not know existed. He exploited unknown vulnerabilities: a sensitive spot just inside her ass that made her squeal, another deep inside her sex that no cock had ever quite reached...

It was all too much. The climaxes built and built, threatening to tear her apart.

But she wanted-and needed-more. Far more.

Sarya had lost track of how many orgasms the spirit had inflicted on her. She wasn't even sure if they'd been separate climaxes, or one massive one that had stretched out over many minutes...or even longer. She'd lost all sense of time and place, but was still aware enough to whimper pleadingly when that tongue and those fingers slipped away.

"More?" the spirit hissed.

She was too weak and delirious to speak, and her neck was too aching to nod. So Sarya gave her assent the only way she could: by arching her ass up even further, presenting herself to the unseen spirit.

He let out a hissing laugh of delight. Those skilled fingers of his raked along her back, his nails leaving little red furrows in her flesh. The pain was a delicious mirror of the pleasure still rippling from between her legs, and it made her eyes flutter and her mouth gape.

Those hands drifted back down to her hips, and he tugged up her gown, well past her waist. The force of the motion tore the fine fabric, but she was too mad with lust to care.

She felt something brush against her backside: surely it was the spirit's cock, but it felt different: roughly textured and a bit ridged. Sarya trembled, imagining what that would feel like inside her.

The spirit's fingers moved between her legs and she squealed with surprise at the touch to her sensitive folds: he collected her moisture to smear over his cock. Sarya whimpered, lifting her backside again, desperately trying to tempt him to finally give her what she craved.

She didn't have to wait long.

That strange cock brushed against her folds, and he pushed forward, piercing past the lips of her dripping, twitching pussy. Her eyes bulged at the strange sensation of that ribbed, hard shaft. It was unlike any cock she had ever taken, far less smooth than what she was used to. And yet it seemed perfectly designed for her body: each little ridge and bump seemed to be have been specifically crafted to rub against all the right spots.

The sensations made her drool onto the dry grass. He moved slowly, filling her inch by inch, and each moment set her further aflame.

By the time he had finally hilted himself within her, her next climax struck. Short, sharp and painful, it left her reeling and gasping. Stars exploded in her eyes, and she panted for air, her hair cascading over her sweaty face.

Sarya slumped onto the ground, limp and helpless. Were it not for his tight grasp on her hips, she would have collapsed entirely.

He pulled back, that perfect cock rubbing in all the vulnerable spots within her, ones she'd never even noticed before, ones that no other man had even come close to exploiting. The tip of his cock nearly slipped out of her...and she cried out once more, the hoarse sound exploding through the forest as another climax engulfed her.

If every thrust of his could force such climaxes from her...Sarya wasn't sure she'd survive.

But that didn't stop her from letting out a pleading whimper for more.

The spirit continued those slow, perfect thrusts, and after two more short, shuddering climaxes, the duchess grew accustomed a bit to the sensations...or perhaps was just too spent to come again so quickly. The spirit growled as he ravished her, speeding up a bit, his warm hands clasping her soft, shaking hips.

Time wore on, as did her orgasms. He plundered her pussy expertly, knowing just how to thrust, just where to drag that amazingly-crafted cock. Occasionally he would pause, leaving her right on the edge, before growling and shoving forward to finish her off.

He reduced her to a whimpering, wailing mess of a woman: her pussy dripping, her mouth gaping, her chest heaving. Again she lost track of the amount of times that cock had made her climax, and forgot all about Ketrik, her plight...her awareness was focused solely on that shaft inside of her.

"You want more, yes? My seed?" the spirit asked. Amazingly, his voice was perfectly even and firm, with no signs of breathlessness or weakness. She was sure he could keep this up for hours...perhaps longer.

Sarya tried to nod, but her neck was too aching and weak to rise up from the grass. And when she tried to speak, all that came out was a helpless, quiet whimper.

"Answer me," he hissed.

She took several deep breaths, and summoned all that remained of her strength to speak.

"Yes," she sputtered. "Please."

That last word broke down into another whimper. Drool dripped from her panting lips, and her eyes rolled back into her head once again as the spirit resumed his deep, perfectly smooth thrusts into her dripping sex.

The spirit's firm, possessive hands clutched her hips all the tighter, and he let out a soft, rasping laugh of approval. He still did not seem breathless or weak, despite all the work he had done. It was as if he was as fresh and rested as he'd been when he'd first yanked up her gown.

Despite his composure, she felt his shaft twitch within her: the simple, involuntary movement sent spasms rippling through her. A moment later, she heard the demon hiss wordlessly, then felt warm breath against the back of her neck. That strange tongue licked at the back of her neck, and though she was desperate to turn to gaze upon her lover, Sarya was far too weak to do so.

And she was also far too distracted by yet another climax. Her body went limp and weak and nearly lifeless beneath him, her moisture soaking that glorious cock, no doubt leaking onto his legs as well. Sarya cried out, again and again, her toes curling, and her fingers weakly gripping the grass. The spirit's thrust abruptly paused, his dick shoving as deeply as it could. The shaft twitched again, then a spray of seed filled her aching sex. Her eyes widened at the unusually warm sensation that seemed to set her inner walls alight with even more pleasure.

The spirit did not thrust further, even as she moaned and squealed through her final orgasm. He remained there, his cock hilted deep within her, filling her with another pulse of his warm, sticky and inhuman cum.

He made not a sound, save for a soft laugh of delight.

"Can I..." she murmured, shivering through the aftershocks of that climax. "Can I...see you?"

The spirit laughed again.

"You would simply see what you wanted to see, mortal. Thus...there is nothing to see."

Her mind was too wracked with exhaustion and pleasure to process what he meant. Sarya let out a whining, needy moan as that perfect shaft pulled out of her: still slick and rock-hard. With all of her remaining strength, she braced her hands against the ground to roll over, to turn around and gaze upon her unnatural lover.

But he was gone, and there was only that strange smoke.

She called out, but heard nothing in response. Whimpering, she flopped back against the grass and ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair. Her fingers reached down for her pussy, her fingers slipping inside of herself, desperate to touch his seed, as if to remind herself of his touch.

But there was nothing. She frowned and looked to her hips, where he'd gripped her so tightly. There were no red marks or bruises, and the only sign that she'd been fucked at all was the sweat on her skin and her rumpled dress.

She blinked with surprise, and the mists receded and flitted back up into the sky.

"Just an illusion?" she wondered aloud. Had it all been a trick of the mind? She shuddered and looked about.

Ketrik laid on his back a short distance away, his clothes ripped and torn. His cock, half-erect, was coated with saliva and drops of his own seed. His eyes were dazed and listless, as if drunk or half-asleep.

It seemed another demon had gotten to him, too.

Grunting with soreness and exertion, Sarya gathered up her gown and crawled over to him. Her hand pressed to his cheek, turning his gaze to hers.

"Suppose we should be grateful that it was those particular demons we ran into, and not ones who would have preferred to kill us," Sarya said.

He let out a weak, almost drunken laugh, then turned and looked her over, noting her sweaty hair.

"Aye, so one got to you, too, eh?" He cursed, ran a hand through his hair, pulled up his trousers and rose shakily to his feet. "Fuck...best I've ever had."

"Same," she murmured, licking her lips. "It was as if...as if the spirit was made for me and my body."

Ketrik nodded thoughtfully.

"Aye, me too. That mouth and that pussy..." He laughed and shook his head. "Sorry...suppose I shouldn't speak about such things in front of a fancy duchess."