The Lady of Dusk Swamp

The swamp gave off a foul effluvium. Carter almost believed he could take his sword, reach out into the putrid air, and cut a slice of the noxious stench. The ferryman didn't seem to notice. Perhaps the funk of the swamp had grown familiar to its residents. Indeed, the pungent odor seemed to cling to everything and everyone. It seeped into clothes and crawled through the cracks and thickly filled every orifice. Carter didn't dare cover his nose or mouth, though, despite his intense desire to do so. The swamp folk considered it especially rude to draw attention to the smell of their little corner of the world.

The village, if you could call it that, crouched in the murk of Dusk Swamp--so named because the sun barely ever penetrated the thick fog and dense foliage. Thus, there was no sunshine; only a gentle orange hue that filtered through the leaves of the towering bog trees. Every building stood on wooden stilts, reinforced with clay to protect them from the year-long floods. A series of docks functioned as roads. Lantern light cut through the gloom, and someone shouted as the ferryman and Carter grew close. When they hitched up the boat, a tiny crowd had formed. Haggard, harrowed faces peered at the mercenary from beneath frayed hoods and straw caps. One figure stepped forward: his clothes were slightly less mud-covered than the others, and were cinched together with a bronze medallion. A symbol of his office, no doubt.

"Mister Carter, welcome to Yagnah Kilwah. Bog Hollow, as you say," he bowed. Carter returned the greeting curtly. "I'm Juhlva, yukka of village." Juhlva's accent was thick. Many of the denizens of the swamp still spoke the ancient tongue of the northmen who had settled this inaccessible place eons ago. Common tongue was still remarkably new to the inhabitants; the syllables still sounded so foreign in their mouths.

"Thank you for coming," Juhlva continued. "Do you like..." they searched for the word for a moment. "Rest? Food? Drink?"

"No, thank you," Carter said. "I'd like to get to work."

"Yes. Follow," the yukka gestured. The rotting boards beneath them rattled with each step as they walked through the stilt-town, the tiny crowd following in their wake.

"Don't get a lot of visitors, do you?" Carter asked Juhlva.

"No visitors. Traders, sometimes. But never a..."

"Mercenary?"

The yukka nodded.

They stopped at the base of a giant tree. It had been hollowed out ages ago, and fitted with a door and a freckling of windows. Carter turned, but the crowd had stopped several yards back. They didn't wish to come any closer.

Inside, it became clear why. The tree was some sort of hospital. Beds filled the interior, each occupied by a man. Medics fluttered from patient to patient, although, Carter noted, they didn't seem to be doing anything. Not administering medicine, anyway. They drew close to one of the patients. He said something in their own tongue to the yukka, who pressed his forehead to the man's palm. The man seemed to thank Juhlva.

"This is why we bring you, Mercenary." Juhlva nodded to the patient, who pulled up his robes to reveal:

Nothing.

Carter blinked. Where his legs met, there was nothing. There was a patch of curls missing, as if something had been there. But it was now gone.

"Are they all, uh, like this?" Carter asked. The yukka nodded.

"The witch of the swamp. She cursed them."

"Any particular reason?"

The yukka grew flustered. He was blushing fiercely. "She lived in the village, but we banished her."

"Why? Was she dangerous?"

Juhlva gestured for Carter to step away from the patient, even though he couldn't understand a word they were saying. They spoke in whispers.

"Witch used her magic to seduce villagers," he hissed. "We could not have her among us."

Carter frowned. He'd heard the swamp people had very strict customs concerning sex and marriage. Their mayor, the yukka, was completely celibate. The rest of the populace had to live by incredibly restrictive marriage laws, and sex was practically forbidden, even amongst the wed. He doubted very much that the witch needed magic to seduce such a repressed lot.

Still, she'd stolen their dicks. That was clearly a "shots fired" scenario.

"I will, uh..." Carter tried to find a tactful way to say it, and gave up. "Get your penises back."

The fog only thickened as the sunlight retreated and night fell. The air grew cold with damp and darkness. Carter gathered his cloak around him. They were deep in the recesses of the swamp now, with only the lamps hanging off the bow and stern to guide them. Carter was amazed anyone could navigate through this maze of roots and debris; yet the ferryman seemed to know each bump and curve in the water by heart.

After an hour, Carter thought he could see something in the distance. A warm hearth's glow was piercing the mist. The so-called witch's abode, no doubt.

"Va fier mawan." The ferryman gestured. Apparently he wouldn't go any further. Carter couldn't see anywhere to step down. Only water surrounded their little craft. The local rolled his eyes and hopped out of the boat. The water only went up to his ankles. With slightly more care, Carter eased himself out of the boat, taking one of the lanterns with him. He waved to the ferryman, praying he wouldn't turn tail and leave him to whatever creatures lived in this murky bog.

Even with the light of the lantern, Carter felt himself groping through the darkness. Soon, he could only make out the faintest glimmer of the boat in the fog. But as he stepped carefully through the stinking muck, he began to make out the features of the witch's lair. Like the hospital, her home was a hollowed out tree base. Light shone through tiny windows in the petrified roots. As Carter drew closer, the earth rose, and eventually his feet were out of the water and he was on semi-dry land. He stepped more lightly as he approached the tree, careful not to make any noise. He blew out the light in his lantern and placed it carefully on the ground. Through the window, he could see a fire with a steaming pot hanging over it from an iron rod. There was a chair, a bed, a table covered in herbs, crystals, and parchments. And in the back, a shadowy alcove. It looked like stairs descended deeper into the tree.

Someone sat in the chair. The witch. He couldn't really make her out, as the lounge faced away from the window and toward the fire, but he could see her arms resting at her sides.

Carter tiptoed to the door, unsheathing his dagger. He'd threaten her, he decided. Make her reverse the spell, or kill her if he had to--

The door swung open. Carter was caught mid step, dagger in hand.

"Juhlva sent you," the woman said in the common tongue. It wasn't a question. She sounded bored by the notion of her former village leader sending a mercenary after her. "Well, come in. It's cold out."

Carter was frozen, unsure of what to do. Had the witch not seen the dagger? Did she not realize the danger she was in? She waved him in impatiently.

"Put that knife away and come inside. You're letting all the warm air out."

He thought for a moment, then put the dagger away. He couldn't be charmed; any mercenary that went after magick users knew to wear a counteracting amulet or ring. And if he didn't have to kill her, why go through the bother?

Inside, the strange hut was humid and steamy, but not unpleasant. After the cold of the swamp, the warmth was refreshing. And in the firelight, he could see his quarry clearly. She was not old, but not so young either. But it was instantly clear why the prudish people of Bog Hollow had found her so intimidating: she was buxom and lovely, in a mischievous sort of way. Her moon-shaped freckled face glowed, framed by a dark widow's peak. Her brown eyes flickered with more than the reflection of the flames of the hearth; there was something dark and compelling behind those eyes. Carter tried not to stare.

"Sit," she commanded. There was an armchair by the fire, covered in furs and blankets. He sat there, and the witch took a stool across from him.

"I'm Cerys."

"Carter."

"Are you here to kill me, Carter?" She asked bluntly.

"Not if I don't have to," Carter answered. "The villagers just want...what you stole." He felt himself blushing.

"So they do need to fuck on occasion. Never would have guessed." Cerys smirked, her eyes dancing. "Let me guess: Juhlva told you I was banished for luring the good citizens of Bog Hollow into sinful carnalities with my magick."

"Pretty much."

"Funny. I don't suppose you'd like to hear my side of the story?"

"Go for it. I've got time." Carter reclined, sinking deeper into the overstuffed chair.

"I moved to the swamp for two reasons: it's isolated enough that the Holy Mother's Temple has no influence here. I don't know if you've heard, but they're not big on magick users." She winked.

"I'd heard something like that. The second reason?"

"There weren't any other witches here that I'd heard of. I thought I could make a killing making balms and ointments for these fish folk. But once I got here, I realized why there weren't any witches. The locals aren't too keen on magick themselves. And they've got a bad habit of forming angry mobs."

"Funnily enough," Cerys continued. "It wasn't the magick that ended up driving me out. It was sexual repression."

"Any men try to woo you?"

"And women. And hey, the swamp gets lonely. But the yukka didn't care for that one bit. So, voila!" She waved her arms vaguely at their surroundings. "Banishment."

"So you took their...members as, what, punishment?"

"I'll admit it. I was a wee bit annoyed."

"Why not...the uh..."Carter floundered under the witch's penetrating gaze. "Why only the men?"

"Those women have it bad enough."

"Huh. All right." Carter stood up. "I've heard your side. Now I'm going to need to take back what you stole."

"Fine, fine. I wasn't going to keep them, you know. Follow me."

Cerys led Carter to the back of her hut, to the stairs he'd seen from the window. They circled down into the earth, until the stairs ended in a candlelit chamber filled with strange roots.

"Here they are. Help yourself," Cerys grinned.

"What do you mean, there's nothing--" Carter stopped as he tripped over one of the roots, and realized it wasn't a root at all. Sprouting from the earthen floor like a fleshy flower was a flaccid cock, balls and all. He looked around, and saw that all the "roots" were actually the villagers' appendages.

"Oh," was all he could manage for a moment. Cerys was clearly delighted. "Do I just...dig them up?"

"Oh, no. They've burrowed quite deep now. You'll have to get them to relax."

Carter turned, his eyes narrowing. "And how do I do that?"

"You've handled a cock before, haven't you? They need to get excited, and then...well, I'm sure you can figure it out."

It didn't take long for the mercenary to figure out what she meant. "Can you at least leave?"

"And miss the show?" Cerys sat down on the stairs, bending forward. Her freckled tits nearly fell from her corset. "No way."

"Fine." Carter turned, not wanting to give the witch the satisfaction of watching his cock harden.

"Don't worry. They belonged to sexless religious fanatics. Shouldn't be too hard to get them going."

"Haha."

"I'd start with my clothes if I were you."

Carter sighed. He had a job to do, yes, but...

He wouldn't deny the excitement mounting inside of him. The thought of that voluptuous creature watching him as he pleasured these enchanted cocks made him stiff with need. He started with his belt and dagger. Then he removed his cloak and boots. The armor came next, then his tunic. As he unlaced his trousers, he could see some of the "roots" stiffening. By the time he was naked, Carter's cock was just as swollen and eager. He began to stroke himself slowly, a low moan escaping from him as he touched himself.

He glanced behind him at Cerys, still lounging on the steps. She was watching eagerly, biting her lip. Her hand had disappeared up her skirt, and her legs were spread wide. Carter smirked. He strode over to the wall, now sprouting perfectly erect dicks, and took one in his other hand. It felt just as warm and alive as it would have if it had been attached to its owner. Carter quickened his tempo, releasing his own cock and gripping another one on the wall. He heard Cerys groan as he ran his tongue along the length of a third one. He licked the balls, then sucked on the tip, lapping up the precum eagerly. He felt the two cocks in his hand quiver just before they came all over his hands and thighs. As they grew limp, he reached for two more eager members and stroked them, his palms now lubricated with cum. Carter took the third cock deep down his throat, gagging on it until he tasted its salty release. When he turned to Cerys, she was arched over the steps, her skirt hiked up. He saw the curls of her pussy as she played with her clit, watching him take another cock in his mouth.

Carter worked his way around the room. Soon his body and face were sticky with white jizz. He wanted desperately to touch himself, to feel the pleasure he kept providing, but there were still so many left...

He wasn't sure when Cerys took off her clothes. Or when she'd left the stairs and strode across the chamber to him. But when he felt hands stroking his hair, he looked up to see the curve of her belly and breasts above him. She watched him suck on yet another cock, and just before it came, she pulled his face back so it covered his face in warm cum. Carter turned, wanting to touch her, wanting to taste her, but she pushed him back to the wall of cocks. "You're not done," Cerys whispered, licking some of the mess from his face. Her touch made him shiver with need. "That one next," she pointed to the floor, where several still waited. Carter's throat ached and his forearms were tired, yet he did as she bid. "Crawl," she demanded. He did, crawling from the wall across the floor on his hands and knees, enjoying Cerys' eyes on him. He licked the tip of the cock, slathering it in his spit before sucking it. Cerys moved in front of him. As Carter gagged, Cerys bent down and scooped up a mound of dirt with one of the enchanted dicks sticking out of it. One of the bigger ones, he noted. She whispered to the dirt, and pressed it against her groin. When she released her hands, the dirt stayed in place, now attached to her by magick. Cock and all. She spat into her hands and touched her new body part. She stroked herself until the Carter's mouth was full of fresh cum. When the ground-cock was limp and spent, she gestured to him.

"Come here."

Carter gladly crawled to her. When he sat in front of her, Cerys grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face forward, shoving her new cock deep down his throat. Carter choked immediately, but did his best to relax his throat. Cerys pulled out slowly and thrust again, holding his head steady. As she fucked his face, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. "Yeeesssss...that's a good boy," she moaned. Could she feel with this new appendage?

"Turn around," she demanded when she was done with his mouth. Carter turned eagerly, and she pushed him onto his hands and knees. He felt her hands spread his cheeks apart, then the chill of her spitting onto his ass. Cerys didn't start slow. She shoved her enormous cock deep inside of him. Carter cried out, arching his back as a wave of sharp pain and pleasure washed over him.

"Down," she said, pushing his face into the dirt. "Such an obedient mercenary." Cerys pulled Carter's hips back onto her groin, pushing herself deeper inside of him. He gasped as she thrust into him again and again. The pain soon disappeared however, as his ass relaxed and stretched, and then he was left with nothing but profound pleasure. Carter's fingers dug into the dirt, his body filling with ecstasy. He almost thought he could cum without touching himself, it felt so good. Still, he reached for his aching cock, but Cerys slapped his hand away.

"Please let me touch myself," he begged.

"You think you deserve to cum?" Cerys teased.

"Yes," Carter pleaded. "Please let me cum."

"You can touch yourself," she said. "But don't cum without my permission."

"Thank you," he gasped as he grabbed himself, stroking quickly. Between Cerys' dick deep in his ass and the frantic movements of his hand, it didn't take long for him to feel the climax mounting inside of him.

"I need to cum," Carter moaned.

"Not yet," Cerys said.

"Please let me cum!" He begged, but it was too late. He couldn't stop himself. Carter cried out as his body spasmed, his jizz covering the ground beneath him. As he finished, Cerys fucked him faster. She groaned, and he could feel the cum fill his ass as she climaxed.

"Such a selfish boy," she said, breathing heavily. "You were doing so well. But since you couldn't play by the rules," Cerys snapped her fingers. Carter looked, and his jaw practically hit the floor. All the cocks were hard as rocks again, as if nothing had happened. "We'll have to try again."

Juhlva didn't look in the basket Carter handed to him. Just touching it made the yukka blush.

"If you place them on their owners' groins with warm water and dawnberry juice overnight, they should reattach." That's what Cerys had told him anyway. Carter couldn't be sure if it wasn't another practical joke, but he didn't care.

"Thank you, mercenary" Juhlva bowed. "How did you defeat witch?" He asked.

"...It doesn't matter. She won't bother you again."

Juhlva nodded. "Thank you for getting...them back."

Oh, I got them all right, Carter thought. The yukka was mystified by his grin, but said nothing. Outsiders were too strange to understand.