Too Greedy, Too Deep

Too Greedy, Too Deep v1.00
Tags: DnD, Dwarf/Dwarves, Balor, dubcon, large breasts, musclegirl, size difference

	“According to legend, long ago, in the forgotten Dwarven kingdom of Sternpont, the Dwarven people came across an incredible motherlode of pure gold, larger than a dragon. The king ordered it excavated so that he may place it in his chambers as proof of his wealth. He was betrayed and murdered by his lords, who coveted the lode for themselves. In the unrest that followed, the soldiers of their army took the chance to seize the throne, executing every last lord and all their heirs to obtain ironclad rule and peace once more. But they, too, soon fell under the sway of the lode, slaying one another over it in a bloody civil war that claimed the lives of thousands. In the aftermath, only the commoners remained, but as they entered the royal palace, each and every man and woman was overcome with greed and the cruelties that spawned from it.
	Husband and wife, father and son, mother and daughter – they all began to spill the blood of their very loved ones so that only one could lay claim to the gold. The gold was bathed in blood carrying the curses of hatred and greed that seeped from the dying’s last breaths, and, just as the last man slew his last child, the lode took a new form, becoming a vile demon born from the worst of Dwarves, who killed the only remaining survivor, and, in the destructive fury of its birth, it destroyed the underground kingdom, leaving behind only stone and rock, the only prize left for those who gave in to their greed.”
	“Yeah, right, and the Drow aren’t dark-skinned, Lolth just conceals their skin in the blackness of her cloak!” Ysilda laughed raucously at the story, all the rest of her companions joining in, the choir of their voices echoing down the dimly-lit tunnel. She was a stout young redheaded woman, toned and athletic, her face handsome, her large, Dwarven bust jiggling within the tight confines of her blouse. She was the forewoman of a large, all-female mining crew, as well as their primary guardian, as indicated by the large axe tied to her belt.
	“Laugh if you must, forewoman, but I told the myth for a reason,” Gertrude scoffed, putting her hands on her wide, feminine hips. Where Ysilda was strong and well-muscled, Gertrude was curvaceous and soft, a noblewoman through and through. Hers was the only bosom that rivaled Ysilda’s in the present company, being only slightly less round and full, but hefty and delectable nonetheless. Her long, lovely hair was the shade of gold itself, a prized feature in Dwarven society, for greed and lust were irrevocably intertwined. “We are about to commit a grave insult to our ancestors by digging an ancient forbidden tunnel. To appease their spirits, and reduce the risk of any hauntings while we dig, each and every one of us will donate a single gold coin beneath this memorial statue, for the ghosts to take when they are low on coin.”
	“Ghosts, eh? Sure, you could call beggars that,” one of the miners chortled, causing the rest to giggle and chuckle. For being career workers, all the miners were rather pretty in the Dwarven way, as the motto of their mining company was ‘beautiful, even through soot,’ a strong advertisement that earned them the services of many a sleazy dwarf. Gertrude had hired them specifically because women were far less likely to incur the wrath of the dead than men, statistically speaking, either because they were less disrespectful, or because the dead were more forgiving towards them. And mining a tunnel that had been sealed off for a thousand years? That was quite likely to stir up some ill will from those beyond the pale.
	After the initial amusement at their employer’s insistence on following the old ways even as they violated them, all the miners grudgingly parted with a gold piece, tossing them into the pot below an old statue that had long since worn away past recognition, but it looked rather like a pair of Dwarves attempting to strangle one another. Only the noblewoman did not donate anything, for she herself would be doing no digging.
	The mining began when Gertrude made the ceremonial first swing with the first pickaxe into the first hunk of bedrock, then handed the tool back to the miner who had given it to her, and briskly walked away back to the staging area while the rest of the girls got to work earning their fees. If the legends were even close to true, Sternpont would have been one of the most affluent kingdoms on the continent, and pillaging its remains could produce unimaginable wealth. Of course, they were merely legends, but even if it were only a moderately wealthy country before its mysterious collapse, they would easily plunder the treasury and come out well-off. As Gertrude’s father would always say: “there is no ‘too deep,’ there is no ‘too greedy,’ there are only cowards afraid to dig, and poor men with no coin.”
	Every night, the beautiful noblewoman would repeat those words to herself, almost like a prayer. She would ignore that it almost felt like she was attempting to reassure herself about what she was doing. She had worked all her life to earn the royal permissions needed to dig out a forbidden passage; she could not throw it all away simply because of the sudden dread some part of her felt just staring down the blackness of the tunnel as it grew deeper and deeper with each passing day. The miners laughed and teased each other and sang jolly songs in unison; if they could handle what they were doing, of course Gertrude could.
	Progress seemed to come faster than expected. Where the best estimates were at three cubic yards of cleared out rock a day, the female mining company managed seven. Was it the morale? The promise of enough pay for each of them to spend a year in luxury? Or some unknown, otherworldly force, somehow guiding their pickaxes to all the faults needed to shatter their obstacles, granting the runners vigor enough to haul several more pounds of rock out of the tunnel with each trip they made with their wheelbarrows, inspiring the forewoman to organize and coordinate her workers with such optimization and efficiency? The blonde Dwarf could not say. And as eerie as it was, she could not help the growing excitement in her chest.
	Crack. “Hey, Martha, come look at this!” a gruff miner shouted to her friend. There, in the small crack between the rocks, the glint of something golden came through as they brought a lantern by it. All those present, however, could already smell it, a scent all Dwarves were born to love.
	“Blimey, that’s gold! Real gold!” Martha giggled, resting her pickaxe on her shoulder with a grin on her freckled face, flicking one of her two, long twin braids over her shoulder and adjusting her mining helmet. She wore a short and scanty skirt for comfort as she worked, stretching only halfway down her thighs, as there was no need for decency amongst her fellow women. “Oh, the boss is gonna love this. Let’s go ahead and clear this rock away for a better look, shall we? What sort of vein have we got ourselves, here?” The miners took their tools to the rubble with an enthusiasm that overshadowed their previous work ethic. The smell of gold was as tonic to any of the mountain folk, capable of inspiring joy in even the most depressed of Dwarves. The only stones that remained in the way were soon smashed apart, and some wooden beams propped up on either side of the tunnel to grant it more integrity.
	But none of the miners expected to see what their lanterns revealed. It was no vein of gold that awaited them. Sitting in the darkness of the tunnel, which seemed to stretch on for hundreds of yards further, there was an immense statue of pure gold, easily twice, perhaps three times the size of any Dwarf. It looked to be of a demon of some sort; it had two gnarled horns stretching out above its head, its body humanoid, but with a long, thin tail wrapped around its waist, and massive wings attached to its back; it was covered in thick, sinewy muscles lovingly carved out of such pure aurum that each and every worker was overcome with fever. The Miner’s Fever, they called it, but they were experienced, and knew how to restrain themselves. Even so, their cheeks flushed red and their mouths watered, ancient instincts demanding to be sated. Greed and lust were, to those folk, irrevocably intertwined.
	“Well then! I guess some of the old myths were true, after all. They must have erected this statue ages ago as proof of their wealth to all outsiders, and travelers must have tried to explain it for eons, creating that old story. You had better go get Ysilda,” Martha said, and one of the miners took off strolling back to the staging area. The young, but bright Dwarven lass looked at the walls thoughtfully, continuing her hypothesis. “But since this is the only known path in and out of Sternpont, when this tunnel collapsed – probably as an accident – the city must have died without any way to receive food. Look, you can see that these walls were cut out following the cave-in all the way up to this statue. They tried to dig their way out, probably for days. A tragedy, but it was a lesson that had to be learned the hard way by our forebears. You always want redundant tunnels.”
	The other miners gave nods and agreeable murmurs, distracted too much by the solid gold statue of such impeccable craftsmanship. Martha shrugged when she realized she had no real audience, walking up to the statue for a closer look at its design. “My, this is simply marvelous work. It’s the spitting image of a Balor. A little smaller than the real thing, actually, but there were likely limits to how much material the craftsmen could get their hands on.” She glanced down between its crossed legs, seeing that it had exquisitely crafted genitals – a large, studded manhood and a pair of testicles that could make a succubus look twice. “What attention to detail!” she exclaimed, looking it up and down a few more times before a sly smile crossed her face. “Well, before the boss gets here, this might be our only chance to really play around with an artefact of this quality!”
	Mischievously, she spun around and plopped herself down in the statue’s lap, her legs spread in an improper manner, shooting her fellow miners a smug grin. “I feel like a queen on her throne,” she laughed as they gave her envious glares. She snuggled her thick, round, and cushy rump more tightly in the statue’s embrace as she found herself slightly uncomfortable, freezing for a moment when she thought she felt something shift against her buttocks, but when nothing further happened, she settled back in, resting her head against the hard, beautiful abdominals of the statue.
	“Hey, did it just move?” one of the miners asked, tilting her head confusedly.
	“No, I didn’t see anything,” another said.
	“You’re just feeling dizzy from this score,” Martha said dismissively. “Though to be honest, I think we all are. This is almost too good to be true!” she sighed, closing her eyes and basking in the sensation of the cool gold against her skin. As she lounged in her own greed, a tingle ran up her loins, and she comfortably squirmed in place, feeling herself grow moist as warmth gathered at her core, feeling the usual emptiness and longing for something to fill it. Another jolt of pleasure oozed through her, making her thighs twitch slightly from pure reflex. She heard the breaths of the other miners quicken.
	“Come on, it’s not like anyone important is watching, you guys can get a turn in a second,” she giggled, before letting out a quiet gasp as a much more powerful surge of electricity jolted through her depths. “Oooh,” she moaned, though now, strangely, the pleasure was beginning to come in slow, but rhythmic waves, not much like the normal erratic bursts of the Fever. She could almost feel the pressure of a big stud of a Dwarf rubbing his member over her mound, up and down, in small circles, teasing her and making her beg. When she got off work, she was going to go find the nearest male prostitute and drag him back to her tent.
	“Martha!” a voice cried, and the brunette slowly opened her eyes to see the shocked faces of her peers, and a long, thin tendril of aurum sliding up and down, up and down between her legs. She traced it back with wide eyes, seeing that it came from behind the statue. And then she recognized it – it was its tail. She only had the time to utter a pathetic ‘eep’ before something huge, thick, and hard lifted beneath her, pressing into her copious rear, emanating raw heat even through her skirt.
	A heavy, hot breath poured over the back of her neck, and two massive hands came forth, seized her leather tunic, and tore it right off her, baring her ample breasts to the air of the caves. Each hand seized a mound of flesh and began to roughly grope her as she stared with the same shock as the rest of the girls. Surprise slowly transformed into uncomfortable anxiety as the tail slithered beneath her slick panties and began to massage her cunt directly. “Wha-what?” she gibbered, as if unable to understand what was happening to her. The dull throbbing against her ass intensified as she reflexively squirmed in place from the warm, tingly sensation of her jugs being played with, coupled with the hot and wet stimulus between her legs, all amplified by the Fever coursing through her veins.
	The gold was cursed, or somehow alive. She was being raped by it. She understood that full and well. And yet, she could not bring herself to resist; the precious metal fingers slid over her sweaty, freckled bosoms, squeezing and fondling them expertly, almost as if the statue knew exactly the way she liked it. She watched in awe as the tip of the demon’s cock engorged from beneath her, only separated from her womanhood by a few inches and a thin layer of cotton.
	The tail pried her underwear aside, the hands gripped her by her hips, and she watched herself lower onto the ponderous tip, sized perfectly for Dwarves. For her. It was all hers. Avarice glinted in her eyes, and lust soon followed. There was a wet squelch as she felt it penetrate her damp vulva, filling her tight passage in to the depths, almost too deep to bear. Almost. It and its studs rubbed over her inner folds, massaging her most sensitive places, coaxing an intense, shameless moan from her lips. Every jerk and throb of the solid gold dick inside her forced her to catch her breath, and when the demon began to rhythmically lift and lower her on it, all she could do was enjoy it.
	The obscene slurshes of each and every thrust it made into Martha echoed through the tunnel, and the other miners could only watch in a mixture of horror and envy, some malicious force preying upon their basest instincts, coaxing the worst of their hearts to the fore. It was not as though it was controlling them. No, it was simply unleashing their most deeply-buried urges. One or two girls collapsed to their knees, unable to resist any longer in the face of the evil, and plunged their fingers into their pants, twitching awkwardly as they masturbated feverishly to the icon of sin. The stronger amongst them remained on their feet, turning and managing to stumble away a few steps before the strength left them. They could not disobey their instincts. That gold was theirs. They needed it. It had to be theirs. There would be no turning their backs on it.
	Martha screamed with pleasure, over and over again. Every time she bounced up and down on the beast’s glistening gilded girth, it probed the deepest recesses of her tunnel, and it made her knees go weak every time. Her thick rump smushed into the statue’s pelvis at the bottom of every thrust, her breasts bouncing, her hair braids swinging through the air as she panted heavily. The fucking accelerated faster and faster, lifting and dropping her more and more forcefully – proof that the demon was enjoying the tightness her stout frame had to offer and every twitch and twinge of her slippery walls on his length.
	When she could no longer bear another wave of raw, bestial heat and pressure to slam into her needy hole, she closed her mouth, gritted her teeth, and moaned right through them with shut eyes, her entire body shivering and shaking with bliss. And at that moment, there was an eruption of molten seed deep within her as the golden demon’s balls surged upward, what little of his length that was not buried in her pulsing visibly with huge spurts of cursed semen that spewed in her over and over again, splashing out of her from sheer volume.
	She shook upon him for several moments, her cheeks flushed with absolute pleasure, her mind simply overwhelmed. The ancient evil simply sat there, breathing heavily all over her, seemingly pleased as well. But it remained far from satisfied. It glanced at the other women in varying states of vulnerability and distress. As if that was all it needed to see, it lifted Martha off and discarded her, rising to its feet and approaching the nearest masturbating Dwarf girl, grabbing her by her head, and guiding its musky, cum-soaked tip into her mouth. She gleefully took in inch after inch, and began to bob back and forth with loud slurps.




	When the forewoman arrived, it was to a horrific sight. Strewn across the stone floor were a dozen naked and half-naked women, each one practically coated in thick white semen. The demon laid on its back, one of the beautiful miners shaking her hips upon it, grinding herself as hard on its cock as she could with reckless abandon. Another girl was riding its mouth, a huge golden tongue slithering up against and penetrating her slit voraciously as she practically humped it out of wanton desire. Its tail was coiling up as it pierced the flower of a girl leaning against the wall with her rear stuck out, moaning like a whore as it slid in and out of her endlessly. The solid gold Balor emptied its testicles into the one on its shaft, absurd amounts of cum blasting out of her as it filled her to the brim.
	“What in the Abyss’s gods-damned name are you?!” Ysilda roared, drawing the axe from her belt and entering a combat stance. Just gazing upon the cursed idol was making her heart quicken in her chest, but she was a hardened warrior as well as a leader. It would take more than just the demon’s aura of greed to thwart her. “Go! If I’m not back in ten minutes, collapse the tunnel!” she commanded her subordinate, who nodded and turned to flee back to the staging area.
	She had danced with Drow, Goblins, Orcs, and even Trolls before and come out on top. The redheaded, toned Dwarven woman had no intention of turning tail when her girls were in danger, not even when faced with such a foe. As the beast staggered to its feet, pulling the orgasming woman off of its face with one final, long, wet slurp between her legs and dropping her at his feet, it seemed to sense that Ysilda was an actual opponent and not merely more prey to be ravaged, tensing up and narrowing its eyes at her. “Come at me, you great big lumbering cock on legs!” she bellowed, widening her stance to prepare for anything.
	The beast charged at her, and in one swift movement, she sidestepped its rampage and swung her axe into its leg, allowing its own force to embed the blade deep into the soft metal. The weapon was torn out of her hands, and she stumbled backwards as the statue came to a slow stop and turned around to face her again. It reached down and wrenched the axe out of itself, its golden flesh simply sealing itself shut as though it had not even been damaged. Casually snapping the weapon in its fist and dropping the pieces to the ground, it began to slowly walk towards the athletic Dwarf, as if savoring the final moments of a hunt.
	Ysilda cursed under her breath. She had no armor and brought no backup weapons; she had not been expecting anything larger than a few Goblins at the worst. The monster before her could clearly reduce most Dwarves into helpless wrecks merely from its presence alone – even she was beginning to feel a hungry warmth in her loins as her nipples hardened and poked through the fabric of her blouse. Worse, it seemed immune to simple physical damage, and if it was truly a Balor, it certainly held a host of other powers that made it nigh-unstoppable. If it were to go free, it would become a calamity that could destroy entire cities. She had to buy time for the tunnel to be collapsed by the others. And there was only one option left to her.
	A cocky smile appeared on her handsome face as she ran a hand through her thick, neck-length red curls, brushing her bangs out of her eyes and sticking her massive chest forward. Her fingers crept up to the buttons of her blouse – and she gripped the fabric and tore it open, buttons flying off, exposing her momentous tits to her enemy. “This is what you really want, isn’t it?” she asked slyly. “Such pure aurum, you are. How could any proper Dwarf resist something like you?”
	The demon stomped up to her, reaching down with hands that could crush her skull – and seized the rest of her blouse and rent it apart, baring her tanned and muscled torso entirely to the cool cavern air. Its shaft hardened before her eyes, swinging up to full mast instantly, throbbing and dribbling pre right in her face. It had a thick, musky scent, smelling vaguely of all the women it had ravaged moments before, as well as its own seed. Ysilda could not help the lusty blush that spread across her cheeks as she looked upon it, primal urges coming to the fore of her mind. She found it easy to imagine how all the other girls could so easily succumb to it, but she was made of sterner stuff than them, she told herself.
	Taking the initiative, she ran her fingers along the wet metal member, testing its feel. It was slightly soft, almost like real flesh, and it jerked against her probings. The magic at work to animate an inorganic material like such must have been incredible. Keeping her fake smile up to keep the demon thinking it had sway over her, she stepped forward and wrapped her fat Dwarven breasts around its girth, immediately feeling its heat emanating through her chest, like slow pulses of pleasure. She pushed her bosoms forward to the base of its erection, its tip now hovering, throbbing, less than an inch from her soft lips. It seemed content to let her work, so she began to slowly run her boobs over its slick manhood, letting it feel her warm, pleasant softness all over its length.
	She worked the beast like that, wondering how it felt, as it released no horny grunts, no needy groans, like men usually did when she gave them such fine treatment. The only way she knew it was pleased was with the movements of its member, pulsing against her titflesh harder and harder as she slid it between her breasts. It started to lightly buck its hips forward whenever she pushed her bosom down to its base, swinging its cock right up and brushing its head over her lips, smearing its precum over them. The redhead reflexively lapped it up, licking her lips clean of the deceptively sweet fluid, feeling the cursed warmth running down her throat, struggling to ignore the lustful pulsing of her own vulva against her tight pants crotch.
	A hand wrapped around her skull, and she almost jumped in place, afraid it was going to kill her. Instead, it simply pushed her head down, forcing the golden tip into her mouth, and she tasted it properly; she tasted its cloyingly sweet pre, tasted the bitter and musky juices of the other girls upon it, and she tasted the metallic flavor of gold itself. It was like chaos upon her tongue, and yet, she could not resist licking it all over, starting to push herself lower on the shaft, inch after inch disappearing into her hot, wet cavity. Her tongue swirled over it as she bobbed up and down, sucking and slurping on the demon’s pillar lustfully, as though she were a succubus, attempting to drain the Balor’s seed to earn his favor.
	The demon began to rhythmically hump her breasts, her sweaty, glistening flesh slapping loudly against its hard metal pelvis with every thrust into her mouth. All she could do was hold her bosoms tightly together and watch the incredible aurum column swing deeper and deeper into her mouth until it tickled the back of her throat on a good, hard buck of its hips. She redoubled her efforts, bobbing with its desperate humping, her eyes glazed over with the sight of gold, sucking as hard as she could as her crotch burned with desire.
	With one final mighty thrust, the demon buried its length as far as it could go inside her; its golden sack twitched several times as thick ropes of its semen blasted into her throat, loud splurts echoing in her ears, its cock swelling larger as the cum pumped through it, bulging against her breasts and sending unnatural shockwaves of pleasure through her chest. Ysilda could only gulp the saccharine juices down, her mind going hazy from the sheer volume of hot denseness spilling down her throat - until she choked, the semen in her mouth and throat sloshing as she pulled off of the pounding member with a low moan, and the remainder of the demon’s load spilled all over her face, neck, and heavy breasts until the flow came to a gradual end. All she could do was swallow what was left weakly, finally clearing her windpipe and panting heavily as she looked down at her cum-soaked body in awe.
	The warrior looked up at the mighty demon, feeling her cunt twinge at the sensation of the heat pooling in her gut. “By Pelor’s radiant pecker, I’m fucked, aren’t I?” she asked, her heart pounding out of her chest as her eyes scanned every line of the beautiful statue’s form; from hard abs to solid pecs, its chiseled jaw, its powerful arms and legs bulging with muscle, and of course, its rock hard column that jerked hungrily before her, proof that it was far from satisfied. But neither was she. The Dwarf’s fingers scooped up the thick semen from her heaving breasts, and she sucked them dry with a vacant gaze up at the beast.
	Moments later, Ysilda’s trousers had been forcibly removed and her underpants given the same treatment, exposing her strong, muscled thighs, and the moistness that lay between them. The cursed statue pushed her up against the carved stone of the wall, grabbing her by her thick, strong legs, lifting her hindquarters up in the air, and spreading her wide. It probed its girth at her thick mons, her engorged entrance twitching against its hard heat shamelessly.
	Requiring no further invitation, the golden Balor shoved itself deep inside of her in one, smooth, powerful motion, and a strained moan of raw pleasure spilled from her lips as the weight of its studded manhood filled her deeper than anything ever before. It rubbed over that spot, the one that made her knees shake the moment it was touched, the tendons of her thighs spasming uncontrollably just from the sensation of penetration. The demon’s fingers shifted and squeezed over her legs, and all she could do was press her forehead against the stone before her, panting, struggling to adjust to the feeling of the beast slowly grinding back and forth, the studs and false veins of its member teasing over her inner folds, sending thrills up her spine with every slight movement over her g-spot.
	Ysilda had expected to be demolished through brutal screwing. She was not prepared for the gentleness that was somehow even more intense. Part of her wanted to scream, beg for something more, but she held herself back. She would not give this monster the pleasure. Even at that juncture, she still had her pride as a Dwarf. Even if she could no longer deny the greed welling up in her heart. The gold, she wanted the gold, she wanted to kill the demon and take it all for herself; she could be a queen with that much, could rule a kingdom, destroy a kingdom, or simply promise life of luxury for herself and all her descendants until the end of days.
	Was that why she had not fled the moment she realized she could not defeat it? The tunnel was going to be collapsed with her and all the other girls in it. Why did she think so little of her own death? Had some part of her decided that any price was worth the wealth? What gave her such a cavalier attitude towards being raped? Was it really rape to begin with? Had she already been under its spell from the very start, and simply refused to admit it?
	Distantly, in the rear of her mind, the redhead considered that desire was desire, regardless of its source. Avarice, lust, indulgence – for her people, they had long since melded into one monolithic force, driving the economy, politics, wars, and even romance and weddings and sex. Was there any greater symbol of Dwarven rapacity than gold, itself? Her ponderings were, in truth, only a means to distract herself from the torture wracking her body, causing her strong back to shiver and tendons upon it to twitch and bulge with every tiny slide of the cock inside of her, as the statue’s hips ground up against her taut rear held in the air.
	Ysilda’s jaw dropped reflexively as another pang of dull, overwhelming bliss poured through her core. Her amber eyes had already gone unfocused, staring at empty space, her fingers clutching the wall weakly. Her heavy chest hung down, semen trickling down her soft flesh, tingling against her oversensitive skin. It was in those agonizing doldrums that she began to want nothing less than for the burning itch inside of her to be scratched, not rubbed. The rubbing – it could only temporarily pacify the need, and it only returned ever more intense the next moment. Her legs were tightly bound by hands, but her hips were free, just free enough to shift them up and down, toying with the thing inside of her.
	It felt unbelievable, and her lustful squirming prompted the demon to finally pull back its hips and thrust back in, all the built up fluid in her folds lightly squelching around its hardness. Scratch. For the first time, it was properly soothing that itch. It gave another buck of its hips, and another, and Ysilda could only swallow silently and grind her teeth. All her built up arousal was beginning to overflow, forcing her body into an orgasm she regretted, yet could not despise. Her passage clamped down tighter than ever on the unbidden but deeply desired phallus, rippling over his every inch, her juices spilling, her shoulders tensing, her strong back flexing, and her voluptuous breasts swinging forward as she arched her back up as high as she could with a shuddering moan of downright ecstasy.
	But the aurum beast was not finished with her. Before she had even started to come down from her earth-shattering high, it dragged her off of the wall and planted her firmly on the ground, releasing her sore legs to place its hands on either side of her, leaning over her, immediately beginning to hump her at a faster pace than before. The throbbing member that plunged into her depths rhythmically, loudly, sent pangs of overstimulation through her core, forcing a shrill, almost pained cry from her lungs.
	The shining monster fucked her ravenously, its long tongue hanging out of its maw as its entire form surged up and down into the Dwarf. All she could do was sputter and gasp as everything between her legs went raw with heat and pressure, shaking in place, her fingers twitching over the carved stone before her as her bestial moans crescendoed in volume, her voice quivering with greater and greater lust. It was as if it was refusing to let her descend from her climax, and insisted on driving her wilder, madder with the heat of their twisted liaison. “Stop,” she groaned out, a bead of sweat rolling down her flushed face, the curls of her thick hair bouncing slightly as her entire body bounced forward when it slammed itself in till its massive sack smacked the back of her thighs, its testes rubbing over her small, but hard clit. “Please…”
	The tempo accelerated. The demon enjoyed her pathetic mewlings. Its girth throbbed with galvanized virility through her core, like a snake slithering through a garden, whispering promises of wealth and glory to tempt the pure maiden. And she could not resist the forbidden fruit, her body reacting traitorously, grasping the sweet apple and sinking her teeth into it. Ultimate sin coursed through her nerves, a typhoon of desire twisting up in her slick depths, her mind hurtling up a mountain atop a mountain, headed for the peak of absolute pleasure. The twin golden apples slapped against her entrance again, and again, the weak contractions of her folds over its length begging to receive the seed within them.
	The demon roared triumphantly, a sudden blast of molten denseness the only thing Ysilda could sense before her mind went blank as an orgasm upon an orgasm washed over her. It thrust into her again and again, but she could no longer feel anything but her own rapture, messy splatters of white painting her insides over and exploding out from her passage, spilling all over the ground. Her arms gave out, and she collapsed into the cold floor, marvelous tits flattening against it.
	For a few moments, she was only dimly aware of how stuffed she felt, and then the monster withdrew its golden column from her, and finally, she felt her nerves go from pure lightning to static electricity. Her thighs twitched, her semen-coated rear still stuck high in the air as her vision slowly returned, along with her thoughts. She knew she should have felt disgusted and soiled by the experience, and yet, all she could feel was consummate satisfaction, as a woman, and as a Dwarf. That, in itself, frightened her more than the idea of death, and, desperate to escape, she gingerly began to crawl forward, fighting through the weakness of her overtaxed muscles. Fingers wrapped about her haunches, and she could only squeak out a whimper as she was slowly dragged back onto the irresistible girth, a loud slosh plainly audible as she was once again penetrated, and her head swung up with a shamelessly aroused moan.




	“Absolutely not!” Gertrude spat, with a dramatic swing of her arm to emphasize the point. “You will do no such thing!”
	“Milady, it is a demon!” the miner sobbed frantically, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Ysilda gave the order! It must be done!” She grabbed one of the nearby pickaxes, trotting for the wooden log they used as a master support for their entire tunnel. Knocking it down would knock all the rest of the supports out of alignment, and the stone would collapse under its own weight. It was a basic failsafe in case anything too dangerous were to be unleashed by their mining. But it had been years since the last time any mining company needed to utilize such a tactic.
	“Then go call the guards, they are trained and paid to battle forgotten beasts!” the blonde noblewoman hissed, grabbing the miner’s arm and wrenching the axe from her hand before slapping her to the ground brutally. “I am not throwing away two months’ of hard work and my own wealth to turn back the moment some creature more threatening than a Goblin appears! Forget the guards, you insipid twat! Begone, if it terrifies you so profoundly!”
	The miner obeyed, fleeing the forward camp in the direction of the nearest underground city. Gertrude waved at her bodyguards, strong warrior Dwarven women, and ordered them to go slay the monster laying siege to her hired workers. They bravely set off into the darkness, leaving only their master behind at the camp. The noblewoman took to pacing, her utmost confidence turning to slight concern as minutes slipped away. Concern gave way to anxiety, and she finally began to consider knocking the primary support away with the tool in her hands.
	It seemed odd that not a single soul had returned yet, she admitted, but she also knew that collapsing the tunnel would mean an investigation of her operation due to the sheer number of dead. And not all the facets of her business were legitimate – she had also been using the camp to smuggle illegal merchandise from city to city down tunnels that would otherwise be far too heavily guarded to slip through. Even so, her fingers itched on the wooden shaft, the only greater fear in her heart the possibility that she herself could come into danger. For several minutes, she stood by the wooden pillar, considering the act intently. It would be such a trivial thing to do – one swing of her arms, and then she would definitely be safe. She could just burn the illegal things and escape the scrutiny of the rest of the Dwarven people.
	Before she could summon the guts required to make such a decision, a distant, but definitely audible stomp caught her ear. Her heart skipped a beat, and throbbed back into life the next second, pounding so loudly it was almost all she could hear. But then another stomp, and another came. They were no normal footfalls. Nothing that weighed what a human did could make such noise. Gertrude found herself utterly frozen in place, in indecision, unable to move her eyes away from the darkness of the tunnel before her, much less move her arms to collapse it. Morbid curiosity, perhaps, compelled her to wait, to see what in the name of Pelor was coming. She knew better.
	But still, she did not move, paralyzed with fear, her heart turning into a cold lump in her chest. Gradually, the sound of immense walking came nearer, approaching the vestiges of the torchlight. And then, at the floor, a single golden toe appeared, followed by a hulking leg, then a torso and arms, and finally, the face of the horned Balor, the ancient evil created, and once again unearthed, by greed itself.
	Perhaps it was the full sight of the creature that stirred her survival drive. Perhaps it was the unearthly shine of its eyes, or the sight of the immense member dangling between its legs. Something moved her arms, and the noblewoman swung, smashing into the wood with strength she was not aware she had. The support beam fell over, and with the complex rope and pulley system rigged to it, it tore all the rest of the supports out, one by one. The stone creaked and groaned, dust raining from the ceiling – and nothing happened. Gertrude blinked, swinging again, as if it could possibly change anything; the result was the same. It was only then that she noticed the eerie glowing runes in the ceiling, blood red, the mark of demonic magic. She instantly understood. The demon simply created its own supports to hold the roof up.
	The tool slipped from her fingers, clattering on the ground, and she collapsed to her hands and knees. She was not sure when she had stopped breathing, but she found herself gasping for breath, as if the air itself had simply poured from her lungs. Her thoughts thinned, head growing light. The tendrils of fear had fully seized her, and she was helpless as the animated idol neared, and simply scooped her up in a hand, large fingers wrapping around her chest, naturally squeezing her copious bosoms tightly through her silk dress. She looked into its glossy eyes – and suddenly fell limp in its grasp, the terror too much for her to bear.
	The demon snorted, amused, and continued forward, stepping through the archway that signaled the entrance of the tunnel out into the larger cavern – and in that instant, a brilliant light erupted all around, ethereal figures the shape of Dwarves springing into existence all around.
	“You may not leave your prison, Jyuuvea, Miser-Beast of Sternpont,” each ghostly figure shouted in a deafening roar. The golden statue stepped back, powerful magicks preventing it from proceeding any further.
	“Such a cage will not hold for eternity,” the demon chuckled in a deep, rumbling voice. “I must merely await the collapse of these paltry enchantments, and then I will be free to wreak the rightful punishments for the avarice of all Dwarves.”
	“The sins of one city do not extend to all of our kind,” the ghosts replied. “Your power will never overcome our people.”
	“We shall see!” the demon cackled uproariously. On either side of him, the ravaged women began to float out past the barrier, being gently set on the ground. He watched them all go with a snarl. “And what is this?”
	“They paid the Toll of the Dead, demon. You have no right to them or their souls. They have already suffered enough by your hand for their pride and greed!”
	“Suffered? They were all enjoying themselves,” the statue grinned sinisterly. He looked at the blonde woman in his hand, the only one not to be taken from him. “And what of this one?”
	“She paid nothing. We have no reason to grant her our protection,” the phantom Dwarves explained. “She is yours.”
	“Indeed, she is mine,” Jyuuvea hissed, poking one of her hefty mammaries and enjoying the thick softness against its fingertip. “And so are all the rest. In time. You may be able to stop me from leaving, but you cannot stop them from returning to me…” he whispered ominously, turning and walking with heavy steps back into the darkness from whence he came.




	Her throat was painfully dry. It was with an uncomfortable groan that Gertrude finally opened her eyes, which immediately widened as she took in the sight before her. Piles of gold and silver and gemstones - in the shape of coins, plates, urns, goblets, and jewelry - stacked higher than five Dwarves standing atop one another’s shoulders, filling the gilded chamber high. She lifted herself up to her knees, reaching forward and scooping the wealth into her hands, holding it up to the light, testing it. It was real. All real.
	“Does it please you, woman?” asked a booming voice from behind her, and the noblewoman staggered to her feet and turned to see the source. There, lounging comfortably between two larger piles of treasure, the demon that she so rightly feared lay. “Behold, the wealth of an entire kingdom in a single room. It took me years to comb each and every household, chest, and corpse to find it all. I would be disappointed if it were not breathtaking to any who looked upon it.”
	The blonde Dwarf shivered at its words, its frightful appearance, but it was obvious that she was not in danger. If it had wished her dead, it could have crushed her easily while she was unconscious. Yet, something was amiss; her dress was gone, missing, only her underwear remaining.
	“Well? Answer my question. Does it please you?”
	Some part of her understood that lying was impossible before that entity.
	“Yes,” she whispered, dropping the single golden coin in her hand, which bounced to the floor and rolled away.
	“Would you like to own all of this? It may be yours, woman.”
	“What?” she asked breathily, head spinning as she attempted not to look at the mountains of valuables glinting in the light of the ever-burning torches on the walls. And yet, her sky blue irises swam over each and every item, undeniable want smoldering in her heart. That which she had worked for so long to obtain – it was all just right there.
	“I have no use for baubles. It is all merely metal and crystals. Only you mortals place value on that which can be found in any patch of earth, if you know how to look for it,” Jyuuvea chortled. “You may have it all, if you wish.”
	Her breast swelled with joy just from hearing those words, but her mind cried out in alarm, instincts screaming. She shook her head to dispel some of the clutter, and understood more what the offer was. “And what – what must I give in return?”
	“Nothing.”
	“You lie,” she panted, holding her hand over one eye as the other slowly trailed over one of her huge tits, her nipples beginning to poke out through her short, transparent white camisole that barely stretched past her hips.
	“What reason would I have to do something so petty? I am a Balor, wench. Do not accuse me of such a pathetic act. The only requisite to own it all – even the kingdom that lay outside those solid gold doors – is to claim your place on the throne,” it snarled, its patience running short.
	“Where is this throne?” Gertrude breathed, her lithe hips sidling left to right as she rubbed her thighs together tightly. Her cheeks flushed a lascivious pink as blood rushed through her pounding heart.
	The demon gave no verbal response. Instead, its beautiful manhood jerked up, swelling and hardening before her eyes. Her face contorted with disgust as she understood what it meant. And yet, she found herself moving towards it, like a moth to the flame – or a Dwarf to the gold. It was not as though she liked the idea of screwing such a foul thing, she thought, as her loins grew warm and tingly. It was simply the most practical course of action. A Balor had no reason to lie, after all. If one romp with the cursed idol was all it took to gain the wealth of a legendary kingdom, then so be it. She pulled her camisole off her shoulders, and dropped it to the ground at her feet, baring what little was left to bare, from her round breasts to her slender hips, milky thighs, and her tender vulva, dripping with her lustful juices. The noblewoman clambered upon Jyuuvea, slowly lowering herself onto its shaft with eyes entranced by aurum.
	Only the low, rumbling chuckles of the beast echoed out from the treasury of Sternpont, soon followed by impassioned moans of utter pleasure.