Penywise Aug 3rd, 2015 3,395 Never
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  1. Her perfectly defined pale muscles bunch in the third orgasm of the mounting. Ice blue eyes glint down savagely at me as her surprisingly delicate, bald pussy stretches around my girth, dribbling streams of my spent loads down the side of my shaft. I guess I have that one succubus bitch to thank for that. Rather, this orc does. Tonights prey. A rare, noble one, a different species to the swine, but scum none the less. Her silver hair bounces along with her massive pale tits, her tight pink insides wrap around me, fine, delicate and powerful unlike some of the greener orc I’d had.
  3. I grunt as my balls twitch and I unload another batch of hot cum deep into her womb, her cunt constricting around the length of my cock almost crushingly. She cums with me and the fourth seems to break her. I can almost taste the hearts in her eyes. She leans down low, her silver moonlight hair blocking out the world. Just her and me, she plants a kiss on my lips, surprisingly tender for the beastess who knocked me down and raped me on sight.
  5. “Be my fuckpet, Jimmy.” It’s Joey. Why ask for it mid-rape if you’re not going to do me the decency of remembering it? “Live with me. Hunt with me. I’ll keep all the other orc bitches away from you. Be mine.” My hand searches silently through the dirt for the stone I’d lain under a earth-covered rag before.
  7. “I’d love to, beautiful, if it means more of you. But these boys wouldn’t have it.” My fingers curl around the stone.
  9. “Eh?” I bring the stone up and slam it into the side of her face, splitting the skin, rocking her head back and sending a bright red splatter upon the dirt. She catches herself with nothing but her muscles before she falls, nearly crushing my pelvis with her immensely muscled thighs as she squeezes it for leverage to beat back the momentum, and turns back to eye me, face a perfect picture of beautiful rage.
  11. “Wanna fuck rough, hu-hghn!” She looks down as the blade protruding from her chest, cutting off her speech. Three more join it, one going too far and cutting my arm. I bite back a hiss of pain.
  13. “Took you long enough.”
  15. “Don’t complain, Joey. At least you got to fuck her whilst she was still alive.” The swords withdraw and the man kicks the dead orc in the head, sending her rolling off me. I pick myself up, dip my fingers into the wound on my arm, and flick the blood in his face.
  17. “At least you didn’t get cut by a dumb motherfucker.”
  19. “Ahaha, sorry. I guess my hand slipped. Real shame if it were to slip again.”
  21. “True that. Blades have a habit of slipping around here. Coin.” He scowls and tosses me a bag. Smarmy fuck.
  23. “Well whatever. You sick fucks do whatever it is you do. I’ve been paid.” I wander off. Besides, I already got mine. I still wince when I hear the soft sound of trousers falling to the dirt. Bastards.
  25. I walk for a few minutes, climbing branches, stepping off boulders and leaping over streams, lost in my thoughts. Easily, I slip into the habit of voicing my thoughts. “I gotta do something about this ugly as fuck lifestyle…” I leap from one stone to a large, familiar boulder and sit, finding myself overlooking vast tracts of land. There’s smoke in the far distance.
  27. “…’Be mine’, huh?” I look down at my hands, and bring them up to my face, groping the air softly. “They felt nice. Soft, like a woman should be. She was kinda cute.” I shudder as I consider what’s happening to her now, a stony weight down by the purse of coin at my hip. “Joey, huh? Maybe it’s time I dropped that name.” I swing my legs off the edge of the boulder, back and forth as I consider where to go from here. I’d followed fate for a decade. “Might as well let it guide this thieving hand again… maybe I’ll have a drink or two first.”
  29. The stinging of my arm comes to the surface, the shallow cut already red and angry. “Oh. Right.” I pull out the alcohol I stole from the orc when she wasn’t looking, and hiss as I splash it into the open wound. Then I cast the only magic I’d ever learnt. A kind of candle light. I hold the white flame to the flesh, and squeeze the wound shut, melting the skin and muscle into a cauterized seal, purifying and healing at the same time. I observe the scar for a moment. “That should fade in a month or two.” I sigh, and begin to walk back, coin purse jingling. Oh. Right. I head back to the boulder, and look for the spot I buried my stash. It’s ingrained in my memory so I find it easily. I cut away the moss and lay it aside, then dig through the dirt until I’m down to the knuckle, and my fingers touch a metal lockbox.
  31. I haul it up and dust the earth off it. This is something I stole from a dwarf years ago. It’s about a meter long, and a third thick. It has a combination lock, and some strange arcane device that works when I press my thumb against it. No key hole, which is good because that means I don’t have to carry a key. The existence of one gets the existence of the other, and all that. I’d rather not have some dudes gang up on me to find what the key belonged to.
  33. I pop it open and reveal a lavish box half full of gold and silver coins and precious stones. Stuff I’d saved and stolen since the beginning. My lifeline. I open my pouch of coin and spill the contents. Five pieces of gold, one of which would buy you a room in a good inn for a week plus meals, forty seven pieces of silver, ten of which would land you a night with no food, and no copper pieces. Five coppers was an expensive beer. One hundred copper went into one silver went into one hundred silver into one gold. Surely there were better ways for me to work out the value of a coin, but going by what would keep you alive in a fix is always a good way to go about it. It’s a shame the bounty for that orc gave no coppers. I don’t like paying in silver. Gold would be unthinkable to me.
  35. There are compartments in the box and some strange, reality warping materials within. I pull out a shelf from the side of the box that extends to the other side. Just about the box’s length appearing out of nowhere. The box was lined with these shelves, just short of a centimetre the entire box’s depth, and inside of the shelf was some spring contraption that sprouted smaller shelves. I’d already filled some with gold coin and gems. I go to the row organised of silver pieces and drop the coins in, keeping only five, and take out a fistful of copper coins.
  37. I perform a habitual check over my shoulder as I close the whole thing up and spin the combination to a random set of runes. It’s clear. I place the box back into the earth, fill it back in, and place the moss atop it again. I put the coins in my pocket, and stand, heading back to camp, finding a small stream to wash the earth off my hands along the way.
  39. It was a decently sized settlement nestled in a wide, shallow gorge in the forest that grew down on the side face of a mountain range. With its own tavern, smithy and a hundred men it wasn’t too bad as a mercenary camp. Well, bandit camp, really. A few hundred meters worth of the surrounding trees had been felled to build the wall surrounding it, and most the larger structures. A bit more luxurious than most, as ontop of ‘tribute’ from the town to the south, the area was rich with game, and high quality pelts sold well.
  41. I approach the front gates, and a sentry calls to me, “Hey Joey. Did ya get yer mark?”
  43. “Set the bait right where you told me. Good thing the bitch was too prideful to take her guards hunting with her. You sold us some good info, Pete.” I pass through the gate and climb the ladder to his sentry post,
  45. “Yer my best customer, Joey. Young. Smart. You don’t rush in like half these dumbasses. Do yer research first. I appreciate that.” Right. I put a hand on the wooden railing and point into the distance,
  47. “Well here’s one for free. Saw some smoke in the distance out that way. Might wanna keep your eye on it.” This post, though elevated, only really has a view of a hundred meters before it slips into trees and forest. So with just the tip of the pillar of smoke breaching the canopy he might have missed it. He frowns.
  49. “Will do.”
  51. “Right then, I’m gonna have a drink. Later.”
  53. “Sure you’re old enough kid?” He grins,
  55. “Shut up.” I take the ladder down, and head into the camp proper, past the blacksmith and towards the large space designated as the ‘tavern’, which is really just a bar and a collection of tables under a shelter. It’s loud, loud enough that it spills into the camp. Of the hundred or so in the band, at least forty of them were here. I slip past people, careful to not bump into any one or cause a scene. I stop in my tracks and lean back, avoiding the whipping spade tale of Blake, our alp ‘waitress’, as she falls, pushed by a man, and lands on a vacant seat, her tray, thankfully unburdened, crashing to the floor.
  57. “You bitch! You spilt beer on me!”
  59. “S-sorry!” You had no idea what Blake was doing when he joined. He was young like me, likely hungry and needed the money, joined up for protection, maybe. Thing is, the boy had no balls. Well, this and that happened, and now he’s like this. She’s like this, rather. I never touched the girl, personally. When you’ve seen five dudes fuck a girl on a bar table before, you wouldn’t want to touch her either. Not that my standards are echoed throughout the camp, if the frequency in which she’s pulled down onto some fuck’s lap and pierced with thick cockmeat is any indicator. She even stopped wearing panties because of it. I catch an eyeful before she settles and stares fearfully at the man who pushed her, tucking a breast back away, after it fell out of her top.
  61. I watch as he approaches her, already undoing his belt, and he catches my gaze. “You got somethin’ to say runt, or do you wanna be fucked like her, too? Bar could use another waitress.”
  63. I nod to the table to the left of me and the table of the right, and the narrow corridor he’s blocking, “You wanna let me past, Big Guy?”
  65. “Tch.” He steps aside, and I walk past, headed to the bar. A faint, “Now as for you,” floats over my shoulder before being devoured by the cacophonous din of the tavern. No one stops me, no one gets in my way, so I make it to the bar having only to a void a few toes. I grab stool, pull it over and, well, mount it I guess. The thing is high enough that sitting, the tip of my toe can just touch the ground.
  67. I catch the eye of the gruff guy who runs the place, mostly because he’s one of the biggest and strongest of this group. Little guy like me wouldn’t be able to tell some bandit to ‘fuck off, you’ve had enough’ Not that I see him say it often. And that’s not to say that the guys here don’t drink too much; they do. It’s more due to the big guy here simply not giving a shit.
  69. “Beer.”
  71. “Nng.” He grunts, noncommittally, and grabs a grimy mug before heading to a keg behind him, and turning the spigot, a dark rich ale filling it. I groan inwardly. That’s five coppers. The most expensive. I wanna drink to forget a pretty face too. Cringing, I take out five pieces and put them down at the bench. He brings the beer before me, looks to the coins and then glares at me. Actually, I can’t tell. Guy looks like he’s always glaring. He grunts again, and takes four of the coins before leaving for the other end of the bar. A discount? Well, I am a loyal customer. I mutter my thanks to his back as I pocket the coin, and begin a long night of nursing beer, and losing money.
  73. I sit and drink for so long my ass dies, and I nearly fall when my full bladder calls me to nature. I look to the mugs surrounding me, and groan. It’ll hit me as soon as I start walking. I rub my face with my hands hard, and slap some focus into my cheeks. Alright. Step one. Make it out of here without falling into some other drunk fuck and getting my ass beat. Might as well take a long walk after this. That’s one thing about this shithole. It sure is in a nice area. I’ll miss it once I leave.
  75. I take a deep breath, and then I take the first step, wobbling slightly as I avoid people. There’s a guy leaning against the wall infront of me, passed out standing. His cloak is snagged on a sheathed dagger strapped behind him to a belt, the ornate, shiny and delicate hilt jutting out. I step around him, and continue walking, not stopping to relax until I’ve passed the main gate and I’m in the wooded hills.
  77. “Good. Made it out unharmed… With that guy’s knife.” Fuck. When did that happen? I look down at the blade that just appeared in my hands. I strain my ears, looking for any startled cry of ‘who the fuck nicked my knife?’ None comes. I shake my inebriated head, and start thundering through the woods, all poise gone now, drunkenly, I blunder.
  79. I walk, trip and wobble until my bladder screams at me to stop, and find a large tree to mark. I undo my belt, push my pants down my hips and pull my dick out. I stab at the tree as I relieve the pressure on my bladder. ‘Don wuz her’ Wait, that was my last name. I lean back and sigh, and look out across the sky. Wait. That’s the ground. Why are there so many lights?      
  81. The lights stop moving and settle down. Oh shit. My bladder empties, and I flick my dick dry, then stuff it back into my pants, already at a run, my instincts screaming at me. It was just too perfect. That many lights can only belong to hundreds of people, and they stopped just beyond the sight of our furthest sentries. This late most the boys are drunk, sleeping or both. And you can’t trust the sentries for shit.
  83. My drunkenness is mostly forgotten as I sprint through the woods, not to warn any one. I feel it now, fate smacking my ass and telling me to run. I’m grabbing my loot and bailing. Branches whip and slice at my face as I speed through the undergrowth, reaching my rock in record time, sweat pouring off me. I almost slide to my knees and  start digging through the ground. Freshly turned, it’s not much packed, so it comes out easy. My fingers curl around the corners of the box and I haul it out, not bothering to even dust it off, as I’m already running with it.  
  85. A little calmer now, a little more sober, I run at a jogging pace. The first thing to figure out now is where to go from here. I’ve got my stash, I can leave at any moment. I’m leaving right now, actually. The closest place is the town south. I’ll sneak out of here using the woods for cover; it’s only a day’s walk away. I can make it at a sprint. I think. Gods, I hope. The nights are getting worse, I don’t want to be out in the open at night. Whatever. I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.
  87. “Hey there cutie~” I twist so hard I nearly fall, box to my side, knife in hand. A werecat steps out of the shadows, grinning. Fuck. I take hesitant steps back, watching her leering face. She’s dressed in tight leather, a sabre at her hip, not even drawn. A twig snaps behind me, and I spin in time to see a hulk of metal, six thick deep earth red legs peeking out under a protective layer of plate armor, the same for her chitinous abdomen, and armoured, human torso. I can barely make out impassionate green eyes gazing at me. Unfortunately, I also span in time to catch one of the two massive shields she wields, as it speeds forwards at an explosive blur, and smacks me right in the face. My world goes dark as the box slips from my grasp with the knife, and furry arms catch me from behind.
  89. I come to, the smell of smoke, alcohol and cooking meat filling my lungs. My stomach gurgles, and there’s the comforting weight of my box in my lap. Blearily, I open my eyes, to find myself in a large tent. There’s a table in the centre with a large map on it. Among the many places circled in ink is the bandit camp I just fled. There’s a completely naked succubus sitting in a large chair on the other side, a chain piercing hanging between her nipples. Her demonic eyes meet mine.
  91. “Oh. You’re awake.” She nods her head to my left, “Myrim didn’t rattle your brains too hard I take it?” I turn to look at my left, seeing the same lump of metal from before, minus the shields, helmet held in her arm, her long red hair spilling all over the place. The light skin of her cheeks splashed in a crimson blush. She’s beautiful, and looking over her form, she’s closer to an ant than a spider. One of those giant ants then. Fitting, that her weapons of choice are two solid, thick, giant fuck-off metal walls. The things can’t even be called shields.
  93. She can’t look me in the eye. “S-sorry. You turned so fast and frightened me.” She looks down and fiddles with her hands, “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, honest.” This girl must be Myrim.
  95. “Uh… don’t worry about it.” The succubus has a good laugh to herself, and the giant ant just fidgets harder.
  97. “Well, boy. You’ve met Myrim, here. I’m Eisheth. Now…” She gets up and stalks over to me, leaning down to level her eyes with mine, her large whorish breasts swaying. I can’t help but flinch as her finger traces the line of my jaw, “Who are you,” Her eyes flick at the bristled jangling of the ant besides me. She grins knowingly and backs off, “And what were you doing so close to our target, hm?”  
  99. I clear my throat, and try put some balls into my voice. “I’m uh, Jimmy. I was staying in the town south when I saw your army head up this way. I work as a freelance scout and saboteur, you see. I-I thought I could scrape together some information,” Please please have no flaws in this giant pile of bullshit, “And sell it to you guys.”
  101. “Ara, how… convenient.” She sits her bare ass down on the table, the thing large and soft enough to squish up as her weight rests down on it. “Well then?” She smirks, playfully, “What is this information?”
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