The Voluptuous and the Vile Ch. 02

Gisela hurriedly marched upon the inn's entrance and pushed her way inside. Eight hungry and bewildered eyes immediately fell upon the beautiful, blonde-haired paladin -- or rather, her enormous bouncing breasts -- as she entered the establishment. There were but four men in the place's main hall. Three of them sat upon simple wooden stools, muddied travelers that looked to be deep in their cups. The fourth stood behind an immaculately polished wooden counter, a corpulent bald man who appeared to be in his early forties. He wore a green vest over a white linen tunic, along with black trousers and brown turnshoes made of leather. Gisela presumed the unsightly man was the inn's proprietor and approached him.

"Gods be good! Those be the biggest titties I've ever seen!" the fat man bellowed in a hoarse voice, his beady brown eyes fixed on the humongous mountains that wobbled toward him. He carried a distinctive rural Saxen accent in speech, hinting at a life spent confined in this forgotten corner of the Kingdom.

Gisela said nothing in response to the tasteless remark, answering the rotund oaf with only a glare from her sapphire eyes. Were it not an impossible feat, she would have also crossed her plated arms over her massive bosom to further emphasize her disdain. Recurring blasts of thunder could be heard in the distance, though they were reduced to low rumblings in this convenient redoubt.

"Apologies, me lady. I not be meanin' offense! Just a pair like that not bein' a normal sight around 'ere is all. Welcome to da Sword an' Cask. Hagen is me name an' I be the owner o' this place," the fleshy man said with a warm, reassuring smile. "I'd be pourin' ye some ale but I know yer kind don't partake. A wise decision, that. Poisons the mind, me pa always said. 'Course it didn't stop me from sellin' it to this miserable lot! Har!" He pointed at the three sitting patrons as he let out a boisterous laugh. "But ye be here lookin' for yer friend, I wager."

"My friend?" Gisela asked, her icy glare melting into an arched brow of puzzlement.

"Aye. A pretty young thing come through 'ere not long ago. She looked like ye with 'er steel armor an' such. I not be knowin' too many ladies wearin' armor like that, but I know a Sister o' the Dauntless Rose when I see 'un!" Hagen's jovial countenance shifted to a more stern aspect. "Rented one of me rooms for a night. Set off on some adventure the next morn and n'er came back 'round."

Gisela was perplexed. She was uncertain of whom the innkeeper described, or even if the fat man spoke truth. In her travels, the blonde beauty had quickly learned not to trust men that tended places such as these, so inclined they often were to rumors and falsehoods. Still, she figured she could at least hear the man's words. She risked nothing by merely listening, her journey home already paused by the approaching storm.

"Did this woman—this Sister, tell you her name or say anything to you about where she was heading?"

"Didn't say much until I charmed her with me famous lamb stew an' walnut bread. Nothin' like a good meal to get a person talkin'! She said somethin' 'bout 'bringin' light' or some such to that old mine north of 'ere. She be a mad woman if ye be askin' me. That mine be haunted by somethin' evil. Not even animals dare to tread near it, been that way for years. Didn't catch 'er name." The obese man sighed and frowned. "I reckon somethin' bad happened to the lass. A shame, that. She had the biggest arse I've ever seen with me own two eyes, least until ye be walkin' in here." Hagen craned his head to glance behind Gisela's impossibly wide set of rounded hips.

"Do you remember what she looked like? Other than the size of her rear?" Gisela's rising irritation was obvious in her tone.

"Aye. She was a pretty young thing, probably o' eighteen or nineteen years," Hagen said. He idly scratched his bare scalp as he spoke. "Short girl. Had the look o' an outlander though. Hair as black as night and skin like honey. She had a rather big nose too, but it looked cute on 'er."

A loud crack from the tempestuous sky dramatically coincided with a thunderbolt of a different sort, one of revelation. Of the thirty-three anointed currently serving in the Sisterhood, Gisela realized one matched Hagen's mysterious patron with a bone-chilling resemblance.

'A woman of dusky skin and black hair. Short of stature, but with a voluminous backside that nearly rivals my own. Sister Lucrezia!' the boulder-breasted blonde concluded with ironclad certainty.

The innkeeper's assumptions about the young woman were surprisingly accurate. Lucrezia was indeed a woman of foreign birth, and the Sisterhood's only living paladin of outlander blood. She had once shared that her parents were pious commoners from Donato, a distant and wealthy city-state that had long dominated trade on the Whispering Sea, and that they were both taken by plague when she was but a child. Like many others in the Sisterhood, a young Lucrezia was brought to the Abbey of St. Adelheid to be given a new family and a new life in service to Wōdun. Now nineteen years of age, she was one of the order's most recently anointed warriors. She had blossomed into a beautiful and exotic woman in a kingdom of fair-skinned northerners, her olive complexion and distinctly Donatese nose an unusual sight even in Saxen's bustling capital.

A spiritual epiphany washed over Gisela, a familiar experience for a devout sister-paladin who saw the machinations of the gods in everything around her.

'Did Wōdun himself summon a great tempest so that I might find my way here? Was it by His design that I learn of Sister Lucrezia's quest but from a simple innkeeper?' Gisela looked at Hagen with a new intensity, seeing him not as a man but as an unwitting instrument of her deity's will. 'Is it His will that I search for her?'

"This daughter of Wōdun may be in dire need," Gisela said somberly. "You spoke of a mine to the north?"

"Aye. It be a day's trek from 'ere. I can mark it on yer map if ye be havin' one." A look of anguish formed on Hagen's fleshy face, as if the man immediately regretted his offer. "But that mine be cursed! Heroes and looters be sneakin' into it for years, and not one ever come out! I beg ye not to go. Yer girlie is already lost, most like!"

'No. I must not think it! My faith in Wōdun is absolute and I trust in his wondrous, unknowable designs. That He has revealed the path before me, Lucrezia must yet live. It must be so.'

"Wōdun will watch over his loyal servant," Gisela countered simply and stalwartly.

"Ne'er been a godly man, meself. I be hopin' yer right, lady-knight. It be a right calamity for the Kingdom to lose its biggest set of tits."

Gisela did not tarry in her newly given purpose, and immediately departed The Sword and Cask with an urgency that gave swiftness to her plate-armored feet. She marched north following Hagen's markings on her well-worn vellum map, each dogged step taking the living hourglass of a woman ever closer to a reputed den of darkness. The furious storm that once waylaid her held its position in the sky beyond, as if the clouds themselves dared not bedevil the huge-breasted paladin on her selfless quest. She walked tirelessly from dawn until dusk, halting but once to replenish her strength with a feast of cheeses and fruits given to her by the magistrate of Lendorf.

The Saxen beauty reached her destination just as the last red rays of the setting sun gently fell below the horizon. A great mountain stood before Gisela, a lone titan of grey rock that rose magnificently from its surrounding plains to touch the heavens above. The looming mass was thoroughly imposing, devoid of flora entirely and flanked by steep slopes insurmountable by human hands. A large entrance tunnel had been cut into the monolith's southern face. The breach was twice again the width of a horse-drawn carriage and just as tall, its perimeter held fast by thick slabs of ironwood erected in the indeterminate past. It was an ominous portal certainly befitting a haunted mine, a devouring maw from which no light escaped.

Gisela stopped at the mine's mouth and removed her cumbersome leather backpack. She drew from the container a wooden torch and then ignited it using flint and firesteel retrieved from her tinderbox. The buxom blonde held high the blazing staff in her left hand and brandished her weapon in the other. With a massive head of steel and a haft of solid oak, the greathammer was a mighty instrument of battle that required both arms to properly swing, but Gisela knew she had no choice but to restrict the heavy bludgeon to her dominant right hand if she wished to also carry a torch. She left her backpack lying on the ground outside the mine, its bulkiness an obvious liability within the dark confines of the place she meant to intrude. At last Gisela stood ready at the threshold of the foreboding tunnel, her impossibly voluptuous, nearly-naked figure illuminated by the raging flame she carried.

'I go now into a lair of evil, to deliver my sister-in-righteousness from whatever dread perils await,' Gisela silently cautioned herself. With that, the blue-eyed warrior-woman stepped adamantly into the mine's entrance.

The tunnel extended into the mountain with a surprisingly steep decline, leading into the depths below the great grey monolith as it snaked north then slightly east. The passage had been cut with pickaxes and hammers, and its ceiling was supported by vertical pillars of ironwood placed every thirty or forty paces. A suffocating darkness swallowed much of the light from Gisela's torch as she followed the passage, and it limited her visibility to little beyond her enormous, bouncing breasts. The mine's air was stale and stagnant, and there seemed to be no indications of life -- not even of insects -- in the desolate tunnel. The curvaceous paladin remained ever vigilant as she descended deeper and deeper below the rocky giant, but no dangers made themselves known. There were no deceptive traps or lurking creatures waiting for Gisela in the darkness, not even a single spider that might skitter up one of her well-muscled legs. Still, there seemed to be an unshakable, palpable sense of wrongness that plagued the fat-assed beauty. The feeling was unnatural and unfamiliar, and it manifested as a gnawing discomfort that crept into a corner of Gisela's mind.

The stifling tunnel finally ended and opened into a circular chamber that proved to be the mine's terminus. The chamber was easily as wide as The Sword and Cask, and judging by the countless scars from pickaxes along its walls, the place was once a rich deposit of whatever ore was mined here in ages past. Strangely, a large steel spike had been placed in the room's center. A thick rope was tethered to it, and it ran taut several paces before disappearing into the rocky floor. A faint beam of light sprang from the fissure that swallowed the rope's hempen length, revealing a breach comfortably large enough for a man -- or a woman of Gisela's immense curves -- to clear. The huge-breasted paladin approached the aperture and peered down into it.

The rope descended roughly twenty feet into another chamber, but this one was clearly unlike the room in which Gisela now stood. The source of light emanating from below could be seen -- a flickering torch held by a wall sconce a few paces from where the rope fell -- and it illuminated the narrow portion of the chamber that Gisela could observe from on high. Decorative flooring was visible under the torchlight, ornately painted stone tiles more fitting for a temple or tomb than an abandoned mine.

'What strange vault lies buried under my very feet?' Gisela ruminated with a furrowed brow. 'An ancient sepulcher blighted by unquiet spirits? A place of worship dedicated to gods foul and dread? No place of goodness would exist here. And the torch below yet burns! Someone lurks in its recesses even now!'

Gisela kept her gorgeous sapphire eyes fixed on the room below for a time, watchful for any activity that might reveal its inhabitants. While the climb down was short, the buxom paladin knew she would be utterly defenseless during her descent and that being intercepted and assailed while she grasped the rope's hempen length would mean certain death. She saw and heard nothing in that long interval however, and concluded that it was likely safe for her to climb down into the chamber without being detected by whatever prowled below.

No longer needing her own torch, the boulder-breasted blonde extinguished it and left the charred staff on the cave's rocky floor. She took hold of the rope with her left hand and positioned herself so that her plate-armored legs could also clasp its rough length as she slid down. Gisela kept her steel-headed weapon in her right hand, holding the greathammer above her head as she began her descent. Despite holding her own weight with a single hand, the short climb down was an effortless task for a sister-paladin strengthened through relentless physical training. Within moments, Gisela's sabatons landed gently upon stone tilework. The young woman released the hempen rope and immediately brandished her weapon in both hands, assuming a battle-ready stance as she inspected her surroundings.

Gisela found herself at the end of a long corridor. The passageway was well-lit by sconced torches that lined its length, revealing walls of glazed brick now yellowed with age. Bizarre murals graced the architecture, painted images of what appeared to be stylized representations of various monsters and daemons. The air was wet and heavy in this corridor, and the sense of unease that had plagued Gisela since she entered the abandoned mine now flared into a low pain that wracked her entire body.

'The evil in this place is unmistakable, and it assaults my very senses,' she thought. The voluptuous warrior endured and continued down the passageway, moving as cautiously and quietly as her clumsy platemail armor permitted.

A series of ear-shattering shrieks -- unmistakable screams of a woman in agony -- suddenly pierced the air and reverberated throughout the underground complex. The unexpected wailing jolted Gisela, and she instinctively braced her hammer over her right shoulder to prepare a deathblow against an attacker that never came. Her presence of mind slowly returned, though her heart still beat furiously beneath her massive breasts. A dread chill ran down Gisela's spine as she presumed the source of the screams.

The buxom paladin hastened her footsteps, half-sprinting along the corridor in the direction of the feminine shrieking. Another scream echoed from the distance, this time followed by a different noise of inhuman origin. It was a hoarse, high-pitched moan, and it sounded like no beast or monster Gisela had ever encountered. The blonde beauty finally reached the end of the corridor and turned left into an adjoining room, and then made an immediate right into another. Gisela's plated feet moved faster and faster, each room reduced to a mere blur as the young woman raced to find her tormented Sister. A grotesque discord now resonated around her, sounds of urgent, sickly clapping accompanied by the incoherent howling of the two distinct voices.

'This vile labyrinth be damned! Lucrezia! I come for you, Sister!'

Gisela dashed through several more rooms and corridors toward the horrifying cacophony until she was seemingly on top of it, finding herself on a stone walkway suspended fifteen or twenty feet above a large square-shaped chamber. She crouched low and pushed her voluptuous figure against one of the footbridge's waist-high walls, diminishing her form as she cautiously peeked down to survey her environs. The room below was fairly large, perhaps fifty paces in both length and width, and it was gently illuminated by a flickering torch placed on each of its walls. A massive symbol -- that of an ebony tentacle bearing an open, horrific eye -- was painted on the floor's center. The depiction sprawled outwardly, encompassing much of the chamber in its ominous black embrace. On the farthest end of the room, upon what appeared to be an altar, was Sister Lucrezia. The curvaceous nineteen year old beauty was on her hands and knees, and she was being raped by a monster.

Gisela fiercely clenched the oaken haft of her greathammer with both hands as she witnessed the plundering of her Sister. A small humanoid creature stood on short, spindly legs behind the black-haired paladin, and its tiny hips furiously crashed over and over against Lucrezia's colossally fat ass. The thing was not dissimilar from a goblin in form and stature, but its skin was grey and mottled with large pustules that looked to be on the verge of bursting. A large hooked nose protruded from the creature's round, hairless head like a scythe, and even from a distance Gisela could see the reflection of flickering torchlight in its black sclerae. Both monster and woman were fully nude, and the abomination was unmistakably inside Lucrezia's sacred grove. Each vile thrust from the monster's narrow hips violently rocked the plush, mountainous cheeks of Lucrezia's buttocks and sent horrific sounds of flesh striking flesh echoing loudly throughout the dungeon. So immense was the young beauty's backside, and so wildly did its amply-padded globes quake and bounce from the collisions, that the diminutive monster struggled to remain mounted. The impish thing extended its stunted, scrawny arms as wide as it possibly could and ferociously grasped two handfuls of smooth, womanly flesh in its clawed fingers, letting out a hoarse moan of pleasure as he tightly embraced his victim's wobbling rear and heaved himself against it again and again. Lucrezia's huge breasts also bounced and swung under the carnal assault, the great perky pillows battering each other on every rebound. The nineteen year old's wobbling titties were noticeably smaller than Gisela's but they were still massive in their own right, each dusky globe roughly the size of Lucrezia's head. Muffled cries escaped the paladin as she was plundered, and she struggled futilely to break free from what appeared to be hempen bindings looped around her wrists and ankles.

There were others in the chamber. Four men, wearing robes of crimson with black trim, stood and watched the hideous abomination rape Lucrezia. They were positioned in a semi-circle opposite the altar, no more than ten feet from the paladin and her assailant. Three of them appeared to be in their early twenties, while the fourth looked ancient with a hunched back and a scraggly beard of silver. Each was pleasuring himself to the horrific scene, throbbing cock in one hand and robe pulled high with the other. They seemed utterly engrossed in the vile mockery of lovemaking before them, and they tugged their turgid mushrooms in reverent silence.

Sorrow and rage fought for mastery over Gisela as she watched the atrocious conquest below. She grimaced in heartbreak and reflected on a painful truth.

'I have come too late. I have failed you, my Sister,' she thought resignedly.

Rape was the worst fate that could befall a woman, let alone an anointed paladin sworn to a life of chastity. It was a very real fear for those in Gisela's discipline, righteous warrior-women who battled the most evil and lascivious fiends imaginable, and it was a tragic end that forever haunted the Sisters in their nightmares. Gisela knew all too well the threat of violation, having nearly been raped by a mindless, tentacled abomination only a few days prior, but witnessing it was much more devastating.

The sight was as bizarre as it was sickening, its strangeness exacerbated by the pronounced contrast in stature between Lucrezia and her revolting assailant. The grey-skinned monster stood little more than three feet tall, and it looked even punier slamming against the nineteen year old's naked, impossibly supple ass. Each of Lucrezia's wobbling ass cheeks exceeded the diminutive creature in breadth, and together they formed a double mountain of smooth, padded flesh that easily flared out on either side of the foul thing that hammered against them. The creature seemed to revel in the enormity of his victim's buttocks, its black eyes fixed on the bouncing womanly globes as he frantically rode them.