“Again? I mean, this is my sister, dude, and it’s becoming a habit now. Are you seriously going to make out with her right in front of me?”
“Tell him to get lost—I’m the DM now,” Ashley said.
DJ hesitated only a moment, but the feel of Rachael’s ass in his hands and Ashley’s big tits pressed into his back decided for him. “You heard the lady, Derek. You don’t wanna see baby sis get violated, now’s the time to hit the road.”
Derek frowned; a few bitter insults came to mind. Then again, it was DJ; some things just had to be tolerated. He just wished one of them wasn’t seeing his sister get treated like a piece of meat. Again.
Resignedly, he retired upstairs to his room.
“Now it would amuse me to see you strip out of your clothes like a harem slave, Vylyra.”
With a resigned sigh, Vylyra accepted that she must please this hateful woman, this seductress who—for all her charms—craved not flesh, but power. She was a magnificent creature, truly—or so said the magic whispering into her mind, corrupting all thoughts of Asaleth to those of admiration and obligation.
A spell from Asalath started a tune coming out of nowhere, instruments the likes of which the peasant girl had never before encountered, with a sensuous rhythm and bawdy lyrics that she blushed to hear. Even had the lyrics been tame, she’d have done so, for now she found herself swaying to the beat, hips sashaying from side to side as she performed the way she imagined a sultan’s sex slave would do.
First went her blouse, revealing plump, luscious breasts bulging in the confines of her simple brassiere; her skirt followed, displaying for all the wide-set hips she had heretofore shown only to Haskar, and even then, only once after she imbibed too much wine at the Harvest festival. Her erstwhile beau would have envied them what followed, for he had never seen his beloved without even a stitch on; he had never seen her spread her cunt and rub at her tender clit, never seen her fondle her tits and mewl with need; never seen her fall to her knees, nuzzling at his pantaloons in unspoken pleading to be given access to their contents.
Asaleth was a generous mistress, however, and a few words from her were sufficient to coax the half-orc out of his own garments, albeit without the fanfare. His swollen member throbbed powerfully before her eyes; she was almost frightened by it, by what she knew was its purpose, by what she knew was its owner’s design for her young body.
“Suck him, you ignorant little peasant slut,” Asaleth said, slapping the backside of her head roughly. Vylyra wanted to strike the woman for it—wanted it so badly that for a moment it nearly broke the spell—but she knew it would displease the paladin and his god to have her do so. Humbly, the ignorant, slutty commoner took his sacred relic into her orifice; he smiled down at her, and she felt cleansed by his approval.
“Um, hey, what about me? Kinda getting a little blue balls over here, Asaleth.”
“Oh?” Ashley said. As Rachael knelt at DJ’s feet, giving him a loud but enthusiastic blowjob while the busty redhead looked on lovingly, she’d almost forgotten Logan was there. “Sorry, I was just getting to you. Here, Rachael—Vylyra—lay down on the table here.”
She pulled off of DJ’s cock and looked up. DJ wanted her to obey this girl, so obey she would. “All right. On my back, or front?”
Ashley grinned at the suggestion implicit in the question, not having considered it. “Back,” she said.
“You know I wouldn’t forget you, my sweet hunk of burly man-meat. In fact, I’ve saved the best part for you.” With a perfectly manicured hand gently guiding the charmed peasant girl by her wavy locks, she maneuvered her back to the altar, then had her lie down on her back.
“Barxes, did you know that our girl Vylyra here is a virgin. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
The barbarian laughed. “Trust me, this chick ain’t no virgin.”
“Oh, that’s right. You do get around, don’t you Barxes my sweet. Still, you’re never going to level up without getting more… experience, eh?” Her laugh sent chills down the spines of maiden and barbarian; only the paladin was unaffected. Kram was immune to fear.
“Now Vylyra, you just lean your neck back—there’s a good girl—and Kram, just go right back to what you were doing. She can’t move so much now, so you may have to do a bit more of the work.”
Asaleth was so kind, to dole out pleasure to her admirers so freely. Kram sheathed his naked sword in Vylyra’s gaping mouth; indeed, his presence stymied her mobility, so he himself had to handle the bobbing motions she’d been engaged in.
In essence, he began fucking her face.
Asaleth didn’t change her wishes at the desperate gurgles coming from the peasant, so he just kept up his assault on her throat.
“Now Barxes—your turn, my brave, beautiful beast.” She gestured to the treasure trove between Vylyra’s thighs, then returned her loving eyes to where the mongrel paladin was polishing his weapon.
Barxes had already plundered this treasure; he decided he was after fresh booty.
Vylyra squeaked and thrashed a moment as his stout shaft came for her booty, having expected to be boarded by more conventional means. It mattered not; Kram was good and well crammed into her mouth, and her objections found no voice. Indeed, she soon relaxed—such was the power of Asaleth’s magic and her fear of Kram’s god—and he took all the booty he could have wanted.
Rachael squealed helplessly around DJ’s cock as it stabbed into her mouth repeatedly. That wasn’t actually what was making her squeal, in fact. Sure, it was hard on her poor throat, being fucked like a pussy (and being so worried about hurting him that she was getting a crash course in conquering her gag reflex).
The squealing actually came from Logan’s dick in her ass. It, too, seemed to think the hole it had found was a pussy, judging by the pace it was striking. Having no lube, he’d just poured some Mountain Dew on his cock and shoved it on in. In fairness, it provided some lubrication, but she could already tell it was going to be horridly sticky before long.
Not that this was her big problem.
Ashley, meanwhile, sat nearby on the couch, jeans down around her ankles, bare-ass nude—when had she taken her clothes off? Rachael wondered dimly—and watching her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s buddy saw in and out of her at both ends, masturbating in a frenzy of moaning and panting, urging the boys to keep going, to go harder.
Like Rachael, they obeyed her. Because DJ wanted her to—that was the game they were playing, after all. She spread her legs, relaxed her throat and her ass, and waited for Ashley’s next order.
The heroes ultimately decided not to return to Brendleton. They had found the treasures stolen from the villagers in the necromancer’s lair, but Asaleth had said the adventurers had earned them, so they should just keep them. It was only fair.
Vylyra—poor, sweet, beautiful, simple, stupid, slutty Vylyra—couldn’t help but agree she had no place in Brendleton now. Who could want her, now that she had become such a low person? Haskar would want nothing from a woman leaking the fluids of barbarian and mongrel at both ends. She could not dishonor her family by returning to them as a woman who had been liberated only to give away that freedom to a sorceress in exchange for her permitting one of her men—then both of her men—to fuck her until she came, and again more times than she could count. She had begged for it, and she could not regret it. The bliss had been exquisite. No, her family would not want her; already, she could feel they had forsaken her to this new life as a property of the heroes. To their leader, Asaleth.