The World of Erasthay
The Rogue’s Harem Book Three: The Rogue’s Passionate Harem
Chapter Three: Sex Slave’s Joy
by mypenname3000
© Copyright 2018
Story Codes: Male/Female, Fantasy, Magic, Spanking, Domination/submission, Discipline
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.
Click here for Chapter 2.
Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!
Zanyia
I crawled onto the bed as Master rolled off of Ava. The princess shuddered, her body flushed, his spunk spilling out of her pussy, the salty cum laced with her fresh flavor. My ears twitched. So many wonderful scents filled the air. My nose detected Kora’s tangy pussy, the slightly different flavor of Ealaín’s girl-cum, Nathalie’s sweet snatch, Greta’s tart passion, Aingeal’s honey, and my own sweet musk.
So many wonderful scents.
Master glanced at me as I crawled over his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. I wiggled on him, his wet cock pressing on my belly. His hand rested on my ass then slid up to my tail. He grasped it, not hard, but enough to stroke me.
It sent a wild surge through me. I fought the urge to whimper. Lamia didn’t like our tails to be grabbed, but when stroked… It made my pussy clench.
“Have you been bad, slave?” he asked, his voice sounding amused.
“So bad, Master,” I moaned. “I was a wicked slave. I came on the ogre’s cock.”
“You did?”
I nodded my head, my cunt clenching, remembering the brutal feel of the ogre’s huge dick ramming into me. During the fight, I used my pussy to distract him. Ogres were rapacious, fucking anything, not caring about the pain they inflicted. Like me, their race was birthed by the God of Lust’s indiscriminate masturbation. Where my race was cute and kittenish, ogres were huge and strong, not caring how much they hurt with their brutish passions. Not caring that they killed.
They only cared about satisfying their lusts.
But my slave training taught me to feel pain as pleasure, to crave it. I was often abused by Zizthithana and Warleader Therek, the man she gave me to as a reward. So when I messed up and was grabbed the by ogre, he slammed his dick into me and… I enjoyed it. I enjoyed another man’s cock.
“I need to be punished, Master,” I moaned. “I came so hard on the ogre’s dick.”
He squeezed my rump. “Did you want to fuck him?”
“No,” I whimpered. “But that doesn’t change anything. I loved his dick fucking me. My body drank it in. You have to discipline me, Master.”
“I don’t have a choice?”
My ears twitched. “Nope.”
He let out a chuckle and gave my ass another hard squeezing, his strong fingers digging into my flesh. I whimpered, loving it. I squirmed more and more, his dick pressing into my belly. My pussy itched at the ownership in his grip.
Then his hand lifted.
CRACK!
That wonderful, stinging pain shot through me. My pussy drank it in, transmuting that delight into a euphoric rush that surged out of me. My eyes squeezed closed. My tail twitched, brushing his naked chest. A purr rumbled from my throat.
CRACK!
I hissed and yowled. The pain burned across my ass and then sank into my cunt. My juices flowered. I wiggled on his lap. My belly rubbed on his dick, making it twitch and throb. I purred louder, loving this.
CRACK!
“Yes, yes, punish me,” I moaned. “I was so bad.”
CRACK!
“Such a naughty slave,” he growled, my ass blazing hot.
CRACK!
Juices flowed out of my cunt, staining his thighs. His every blow reminded me that he owned me. That my pussy belonged to him. His was the only male cock that should make me cum. Only he should fuck me that hard and make me explode.
CRACK!
“I have such a naughty pussy!” I whimpered.
CRACK!
“Just a hot, slutty cunt!”
CRACK!
“I have to be owned by you!”
CRACK!
“You are such a naughty slut,” Master growled. “Your hot pussy gets you into trouble.”
CRACK!
“So much trouble!” I moaned.
I loved it. Every blow fell on a different part of my rump, moving around my butt-cheeks. He hit that wonderful spot where the curve of my ass met my thighs. He disciplined me. My pussy grew hotter and hotter. My orgasm swelled hotter and hotter. I whimpered and moaned, my ears twitching.
It felt so wonderful. The pain only heightened the pleasure brewing inside of me. Each slap carried me one step higher. I neared my rapture. I squirmed more and more on his lap, his dick throbbing against my belly. I was so close to erupting.
“Your cunt just gets you in so much trouble. Maybe I should discipline it.”
“Yes!” I moaned. “I have such a wicked cunt.
SMACK!
His hand landed right on my wet pussy, my pubic hair muffling the blow only slightly. My labia and clit throbbed. It surged through me. My cunt clenched as the heat washed through my body. I squirmed on his lap.
SMACK!
I whimpered, my snatch growing more and more tense. The pain flared through my naughty cunt. I drank in the agony. My clit screamed out in rapture. My purr rose to a rumbling roar. My ears twitched. My tail swished.
SMACK!
I exploded.
My orgasm spilled through me. I gasped and moaned and shuddered. The pleasure rippled through my body. I bucked on his lap as my juices squirted out of his pussy, bathing his hand in my naughty cream. The ecstasy, driven by pain and rapture, drowned my mind.
It was amazing. It boiled through my mind. I yowled in such delight, so happy that he punished me. That he took me in hand and owned me. I loved it. I loved being his sex slave. And I felt so loved by being spanked.
Joy swirled through the rapture.
“I love you, Master! I love you so much! Thank you!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prince Meinard – Echur, Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch
My dreams of becoming the ruler of all of Zeutch, uniting the Strifelands once more under a single authority wasn’t lost because of the destruction of the Lodestone and the loss of my imbued army of statues. I could still then take on the world and restore the High King’s empire. I would wear the crown.
I just had to give the Paragon, this servant of the dead Biomancer Vebrin, what she craved. An amulet. An amulet in the possession of that young bastard Sven Falk. My daughter was with him. He’d lured Ava away from me. Despite the blessing of the corrupt priestess of Luben, twisting her God’s Love into its opposite.
Ava yearned for me, but she still craved that bastard. If only he died with the rest of his mongrel family.
But I would have Ava back. She would be my queen, bear my heir, whether she loved me or not. I would have her fear if not her passion. She would submit to me out of terror instead of rapture. So long as she bore me a son, I did not care.
I opened the door to my armory. It wasn’t the typical armory. It wasn’t full of arms and armor. It was full of statues of various shapes and designs, each one bonded to my soul. I could slip into one of them, putting on iron or stone and striding on the battlefield my body held safe. I could be half the world away. Distance didn’t matter for the spiritual.
My daughter had the same ability. Our son would be the union of us both. I imagined the power he would hold. My dick ached, missing my daughter’s incestuous hole. She wasn’t here, but she would soon be.
“Statues, Your Highness,” said the Colony. The monster’s buzzing speech sounded like nails driving through my skin into my brain.
I turned to face the monster. The Colony was shaped like a large hound that was the size of a small pony, it’s form made of grains of rippling sand that could break apart or flow back together. When it spoke, its teeth-filled maw didn’t move. The sound issued from its entire body, like every bit of it resonated with its words.
“You are an… interesting man,” the monster said.
The Colony was one of the four “creations” of the Biomancer Vebrin the Paragon entrusted to me. Four of the mad, dead warlock’s most dangerous monsters. Where other craftsmen worked in stone or wood or metal, Vebrin worked in flesh. With his magic, he reshaped and melded and created new entities. His monstrosities spread across the world, creating problems for all.
But if his monsters could be my army…
“Take this statue with you to Az,” I said, stroking the iron statue, cast to look like me but with a brawnier build, wider shoulders. It had no clothes. I liked fighting naked, iron cock hard, my most vulnerable part of me exposed, showing how little I feared my opponent.
They couldn’t touch my flesh.
“Touch the lips and I will know,” I said. “I will inhabit it and oversee your… work.”
“You do not trust us, Your Highness?” the buzzing voice asked.
I grimaced against its words. “No.”
“Good.” A strange, screeching, pulsing sound came from it, rhythmic and… Laughter? The sound scratched at my mind. I fought the pain. I faced the monster without flinching.
“I will not let my daughter be harmed by your… activities. I do not care about the rest with Sven and his sister.”
The laughter died to an echo that reverberated through the armory. “We shall not harm her, Your Highness. But the others… We shall feast.”
To be continued…
Click here for Chapter 4.
I have released a part 43 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!