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Story Codes: Fantasy, Magic, Violence

For a list of all The Rogue’s Harem, other World of Erasthay stories, maps, and glossaryclick here

Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as it’s
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.

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Click here for Chapter 47.

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Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Zanyia

“Got hot pussy right here?” I moaned, plunging my fingers into my pussy as Gor went for Kora. “It’s real and juicy.”

Kora threw herself to the ground, the ogre’s grasping hand sweeping over her. She screeched, her twin braids bouncing on her naked back. She quivered there again. I had to do something. I had to draw his attention.

Good thing my pussy dripped from the exhilaration. I felt so alive. So horny.

“You’re going for another illusion again,” I shouted, pulling out my digits from my cunt, coated in my juices. I flicked my fingers at him, splashing his back in juices. “Smell that, big boy. That’s prime, lamia cunt-cream.”

His brutish head snapped around towards me. I grinned at him, my ears twitching. Kora rolled away from him. An illusion of her appeared standing up before the ogre. He thrust his hand at the movement, blurring through the illusion.

“TRICK!” he snarled.

“But this isn’t,” I purred, flicking more pussy juices at him. “I’m real.”

He rose over me, smashing through the ceiling. The entire boarding house creaked and shook. How much more destruction could the building take? I hoped it would survive. I turned and scrambled away, the ogre lunging after me. I leaped for the door out of the room. His fist smashed into the floor. Wood protested.

I landed on the ground, my claws scratching, digging in, giving me leverage. I leaped again, flying out into the hallway. His lust-filled bellow echoed as he charged after me. The wall exploded, his hulk bursting through it.

I grinned as I led him away from Mistress Kora.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kora Falk

I let the illusion of myself dissolve away as the ogre smashed through the wall and tore off after Zanyia. I pushed myself to my feet. Ava’s feyhound proxy followed, leaping through the rubble. I chased after, bare feet slapping on the ground. Splintered wood and torn plaster slowed me down. My arms thrust out to my side, balancing myself across shifting debris.

“Come get me,” Zanyia shouted. “My pussy’s waiting!”

My fingers painted.

“Yes, yes, my pussy’s waiting,” illusion-Zanyia yowled as she sprang out of a door right before the ogre. I gave my art a toothy grin. “Mmm, it’s just so juicy.” I swished her tail and twitched her ears just like the real Zanyia. “See.”

I spun the illusion around and made her part her furred muff, showing off that pussy.

“No, no, it’s right here,” the real Zanyia purred, sounding just the same. She adopted the same pose, bent over, hand shoved down her body and between her legs, digits parting those pink depths. She was wet; battle always excited her.

She reveled in this. I hated it. The terror. My heart screaming. Blood pounding through my veins. Where was Sven? Why hadn’t he returned? And what happened to Ealaín? But I could only concentrate on my illusion.

The ogre’s head whipped back and forth. He stood immobile for a moment, one hand stroking that brutal cock, thick and long, more a battering ram than an organ that could give pleasure to a woman. Ogres didn’t care about giving pleasure. Only in rutting. In satiating their lusts.

“Got some hot, juicy cunt right here,” illusion-Zanyia howled, my lips moving with it while my pussy-soaked fingers wiggled. I shoved my left hand between my thighs, finding more of my cream.

I was wet, too. What did that say about me? Beneath the terror, I was excited.

Ava attacked the ogre’s leg. Her wooden teeth sunk into his hamstring. He bellowed, boulder-sized fists swinging at the end of long, pendulous arms. Ava ducked, her feyhound form nimble. Wicker creaked as she bit again, leaving oozing wounds on the ogre’s leg.

Was that even hurting him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven Falk

I flicked my sword towards the sound. Metal rang on metal. My blade shivered. I clenched my hands tight, the sound resounding. The naga hissed, her scales rasping together as she moved her body. I heard the slap of her breasts, picturing those pillowy mounds bouncing off each other.

I thrust my sword at that sound.

She hissed in frustration. Scales slithered back across cobblestone. Her scimitar slapped down on my sword, knocking my thrust off target. I didn’t care. I moved, bare feet crossing the stones. I heard Nathalie gasp, pictured her frightened face watching in awe.

She didn’t say a word. She knew better.

The air whistled to my right.

My sword snapped up.

Metal clashed.

Silky hair caressed shoulders and face. Scales slithered together, that dry caress. My sword slashed out, forcing her to retreat. I sprang at her, thrusting at her flesh, her scimitar sweeping before her to block. Hard swings. Too much energy. Too much flourish.

She wasn’t used to having opponents that truly fought back. I could imagine none of her servants ever trying to beat her when she sparred for practice. They didn’t put their all into the fight. They didn’t hone her to be a deadly fighter. She lacked the skill to face someone trained by the Fencing College of Az.

If I wasn’t blind…

Metal rang. She hissed as I drove her back. She circled me, slithering. I tracked her, ears pricked for every movement. My feet shifted along the cobblestones of the street. I listened for the swish of her sword, the sway of her breasts, the hissing frustration of her mouth. All of it gave me clues.

I parried. I slashed. I thrust.

“How!” she snarled.

“You’re just that pathetic of a fighter,” I said, putting mocking derision into my voice. “I don’t even need to see to kill you.”

I felt something cold swirling around me. Not wind, but that same ethereal touch. Her sword slashed in from the left. But it didn’t sound quite right. It had a… hollow quality. A heartbeat later, I heard a fainter hiss from my right.

I parried right. Her blade smacked into my sword, but it wasn’t swung at her full strength. She tried to bring in stealthily, to give me a minor wound instead of slicing me open from belly to sternum.

“How!” she snarled.

“Shadowy tricks don’t work if I can’t see them!” I said and then snapped my blade at her chest.

She snarled, her blade flashing. A cocky grin grew as I pressed my attack. I felt her frustration as she slithered down the street. I pressed her back faster and faster, sensing I had the advantage, the momentum of the fight had shifted in my favor.

My attacks grew swifter. Confidence swelled in me, energizing my forms. I had to find her flesh. I had to kill this bitch and end the blindness. The ogre bellowed in the building. I had to finish her off and help my sister, my princess, and my slave. I had to help Ealaín. All of them.

Her scimitar swept before her, hardly holding me off. Her breathing increased. She slithered back faster, forcing me to almost jog to keep up with her. I slashed, my blade not cutting into the naga’s flesh. Her scales rasped across the ground. She fled from me, slithering away.

I had her running scared and—

Nathalie screamed.

“No!” gasped Greta. They were so close to the rustling scales. Greta yelped. Bare feet slapped on the paving stones.

What was happening!

“Master!” screeched Nathalie, terror in her voice.

The naga hissed in satisfaction, her scales rasping on flesh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Princess Ava

I savaged the ogre’s thighs as I felt something distant wrapped about my real body. Thick and coiled. I ignored it. Sven was protecting me. I needed to keep fighting here. I needed to help my Kora and Zanyia fight the ogre.

Sven protected me.

I leaped up the ogre’s back, dodging his foot kicking back at me. I had to find some place on the brute that would hurt him. Little wounds oozed blood across his yellowish hide, but nothing I did seemed to slow him.

It was so frustrating.

“Pater’s cock!” I snarled as my claws tore into his back. I snapped at his neck again, trying to get around the front. To crush his windpipe. I lunged my head over his shoulder, greasy hair brushing the wicker of my flesh.

I closed around his throat. I squeezed, snarling as I choked the life out of him. Zanyia chortled in delight. I put my all into clenching down about the ogre’s throat. I could feel his breath rushing down his windpipe. I just had to crush it.

To kill him.

The ogre’s brutal hand seized me in a crushing grip. I gasped as he flung me. The hallways streaked past, doors open left open from the fleeing guests. I tried to turn my form, using my wicker tail to reposition myself and—

I crashed into the wall.

My body snapped. Wood splintered. I hit the floor and groaned, twitching. I felt broken wicker across my body, weakening my form’s strength. Dozens of strands had cracked or ripped in half along my sides, putting strain on those still in tact. My left foreleg lay twisted, held on by only a few woody vines.

I shook my head, struggling to stand.

The proxy was still intact enough for me to control it. My soul didn’t hurtle back out of my body. I could still fight. The ogre lunged at a Zanyia, reaching for her, ignoring me. I almost had him. I could feel I was choking him.

I hobbled back towards the fight, my left leg dragging behind me.

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Zizthithana, Istandar of Hizzithya

I hissed in frustration as I fled Sven Falk. The blind, blond human kept fighting. His muscular, yet sleek, body flowing with such skill and grace. He moved his sword like it belonged to his body, just another appendage that he could wield.

If he could see…

I charged at his women, at the slumbering Princess Ava. The naked serving girls screeched. The busty one ducked my scimitar blow, rolling away from the unconscious princess, her strawberry-blonde hair spilling over the cobblestone.

“Master!” screeched the petite serving girl, her pigtails flying about her face as she dove away from my scimitar, moving with some grace and skill.

They had training. But only in fleeing.

“She’s going for the princess!” the busty one shouted as my coiled body wrapped about Princess Ava.

“No!” snarled Sven, the fear palpable in his voice. I could taste it on the air.

He cared for Ava. That made him weak.

I entwined my scales about her form. I shivered at the feel of her small breasts rising and falling against my body. My instincts screamed at me to squeeze. To crush the life from her, to feel her bones pop. A sexual shudder washed through me, my pussy growing so hot as I turned to face Sven.

His sword slashed at me.

I parried.

“Master!” Nathalie gasped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven Falk

I drew back my sword and swung again at the naga, her scales rasping right before me. Nathalie shouted to my right, fear thick in her voice. It flowed through my body, making me tremble, wracking about my guts.

“I have your princess, Sven,” Zizthithana hissed. “My coils are wrapped around her. One squeeze…”

The reptilian coldness of her words struck me. My lungs grew tight. I felt like that ogre rampaging through the boarding house had seized me, his fist crushing my chest. My heart labored as I heard those scales rasping against silky skin.

“She does, Master,” Greta called. “Please, please, don’t hurt her, snake!”

“I thought you were Prince Meinard’s ally,” I said, holding my sword pointed low before me.

“I’m not his daughter’s ally,” she purred. “Besides, alliances are temporary. They are fleeting. For a time, our goals aligned, but now they drift apart. Stay your blade, or you’ll hear all her pretty bones snap. She’ll scream then die choking. It’s quite… excruciating.”

“No, no, no,” Greta sobbed. “Please, please, don’t hurt her.”

The image blazed in my mind. With sight stolen from me, my fears conjured a sight that felt so real. Princess Ava wrapped up in the purple scales, those bronzes diamonds flashing as the naga squeezed. My betrothed’s face twisted in agony as her body compressed. Her face grew red as she shook, joints popped, ribs creaked.

I couldn’t see well enough to know exactly where Ava was in relation to the naga. If I swung and Zizthithana parried, she might slap my blade into Ava’s flesh. If I didn’t strike the naga—if I didn’t land a blow that would kill the naga—she would squeeze.

Crush.

How long would it take for Ava to die. How long could my princess survive the crushing pressure of the naga’s embrace. All the exhilaration I felt evaporated from my blood. No more excitement remained. Only the fear. The poisonous dread that stole through my body, numbing me, making me shake.

“Las’s putrid cum,” I growled, lowering my short sword.

“Yes, yes, you understand,” the naga said, her voice hissing with such sibilant delight. “You don’t want her to die.”

“No.” The words felt ripped from me. What could I do without sight? I didn’t have a chance now.

“Drop your blade,” she purred.

I tossed it down before me, clattering on the pavement.

“Back up,” she hissed.

I took a step back.

“More, Sven.” Her scales rasped against smooth skin.

My stomach twisted, swirled. Acids boiled inside of me. That sick writhe threatened to empty my dinner upon the paving stones. I took another step back. A second. A third. A fourth. I held my hands out to the side, fingers spread, open.

“Okay,” I growled. “let her go.”

Metal slid against stone. Then something sailed through the air. Not at me. It clanged down the street, bouncing. My sword… She’d thrown my weapon far away, denying me the chance of charging for it.

“Now don’t move,” she hissed, slithering towards me. “I can still kill her.”

Nathalie whimpered. Greta groaned. The sounds came from each other. They were close. “The moment she frees Ava,” I said, keeping my voice strong, in charge, “grab her and flee.”

“Yes, yes, you wouldn’t want me to harm her after I’m done with you,” Zizthithana hissed. She sounded only feet away.

Scales rasped against flesh. My body shook, tensed. The ogre fist about my torso squeezed tighter. But I didn’t hear the sounds of snapping bones. Greta let out a relieved moan as the naga circled me. I felt her body stirring the air surrounding me while that dry, serpentine smell filled my nose. Her scales brushed my calves as she wound around my body.

Bare feet slapped on the cobblestone. My sex slaves reached Ava. They retreated, groaning and grunting as they dragged away my princess. I let out a relieved breath then shuddered as the serpentine coils tightened around me. I pulled my right arm free, my left pinned to my body as her scales covered me. Her breasts pressed into my face.

“Ooh, yes, you are all mine to play with, Sven,” hissed Zizthithana. “And what fun we shall have.”

Her muscular coils clenched about my body.

To be continued…

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I have released a part 43 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!