Kingdom of Welcome Addiction [Wreckles & Cherubian]

[Wreckles]

Being dimly aware of having left the pleasantries of the now swiftly fading dream he had, Tuon stubbornly clinged to the sensation of actually resting in a soft warm bed -preferably with a wench at his side. But the soft rocking motions reminded him of where he actually was. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and became poignantly aware of how stiff his body was when he tried to sit up straight, apparently sleeping on hard wood was not ideal. The smell of wet wood and the salt of the sea filled his nostrils as the ship creaked characteristically - like an old man with sore joints. With an effort he clumsily stood up and stretched his back, he vacantly wondered if it was night or day. No sunlight escaped into his cell, never had one of the guards taken him out of it - and why would they? He had no idea of which deck he was on, how far it was to the surface, he knew the ship was large - perhaps the largest he had ever seen. It mattered little when the grim truth started him in the face, a truth the guards of this deck was so keen on reminding the prisoners of. More than just a few had already broken down, their crying and sobs echoing in the night. Apparently the depraved guards had taken up a habit of 'testing out the goods', which means straight out raping the female slaves. It was difficult to string coherent thought together when the air was filled with screams. Two days, it must have been two days since I woke up here. Keeping track of time when he had no access to any indication was proving to be a rather difficult task. Subconsciously he pulled at his linen shirt, apparently the host of this ship had no intentions of setting his foot down here, all Tuon saw was the ugly countenances of the burly guards that frequented the area. Being far from an idiot, he knew damn well what was in store for him, and he did not like the prospects at all. Sitting down again he stared blankly at the iron bars that contained him in this sorry excuse for a cell - as if he could bend them with will alone.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the hold and Tuon instantly recognized them, it was the jailor - Murl - who were coming to make his inspections of the prisoners, which translated into mocking them. Murl was a gargantuan man, possibly the largest Tuon had ever seen and he was far from short himself. Sporting his 178cm, he only reached up to the chest of Murl, not to mention that the difference in muscles was substantial. If Tuon were to describe Murl to another, he would say that his face looked like it had been introduced to a firm stroke of a frying pan in his early ages. All men have weaknesses, just like they all have sexual desires. Tuon had tried at an early stage tried to comment on Murl's performance, mocking him as he passed by in hopes that the substantial man would give in to his taunts and making the foolish mistake of opening Tuon's cell. His efforts did not go unnoticed as Murl had one more than one occasion lashed out at him, waving his clumsy large arms around trying to get a grip of Tuon's neck but his fellow guards had always stopped him before he would do something stupid. It was with a wry smile that Tuon sat patiently in the center of the room while Murl glanced at him with a confident grin. Meeting the rowdy mans beady eyes with his own piercing azure, Tuon took on a carefree tone "Off to visit another girl are we Murl? No doubt we will all hear her screaming and crying, but then again with a face like yours, that must be the reaction you get all the time."
There was a twitch in Murls features, the jailor must have stopped to gloat at Tuon but instead he slammed his unproportional hands on the bars, shaking them in their foundations. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out from their holes and his roar sent vibrations onto Tuon's figure. For a moment it looked like Murl would bend open the bars with his sheer strength but the roar had alarmed several guards who now rushed to pry away the man from the bars. It was an amusing sight but it served Tuon no purpose as the other guards escorted away Murl, had the jailor been more clever he would either remain calm at Tuon's taunts, or he would use the bloody key to open the damn cell. With a sigh Tuon let his exterior shrink, he ran a hand through his shirt dirt blonde hair and pondered his next action. Vacantly he felt sorry for the female who Murl would pick out for the day.

Entering some sort of meditational state Tuon knew he had to postpone his eventual escape, the linen breeches clung to his legs, other than the clothes on his body he had no other possesion that was not taken from him when he was captured. Bloody luck that was, he was hunting in the woods and rested at his campfire when a band of soldiers took note of him, twenty to one and slightly intoxicated after imbibing his own concoction of alcohols he had no chance of flight as he was clubbed at the back of his head only to wake up in this very spot god knows how many hours later.

Murl moved with steps that that almost shook the floor each time he put down his foot, he was furious and it took immense amount of willpower not to lash out at his fellow guardsmen. Small pulsing veins had formed around his temples but he tried to remember the lullaby his mother used to sing for him when he got angry as a little boy, it worked - this time. The other guards kept a safe distance - that meant outside Murl's arms reach - and looked at him with worried countenances. Murl had been given the duty as a jailor because no prisoner dared to challenge him, and those who did were quickly learned of their mistake. The power he had down here had corrupted his feeble mind and now he took more than he was entitled to, of course no one snitched - the victims were slaves after all, it would be their duty in a nearby future anyway. The prospect of slaking his sexual thirst on one of the new prisoners had him forgetting about the man who had just taunted him.
Heading straight to the far end of the deck, paying no attention to the prisoners who wanted to blend into the walls when he passed, Murl grinned from ear to ear as he tapped his large index finger against the metal bars of the cell where his next victim was residing.
His voice was as deep and harsh as his features " 'Ello little rabbit, it's time to play with uncle Murl." He let out a brief cackle that revealed several missing teeth as he fished out the keychain and inserted the proper key into the lock.

 

[Cherubian]

Vinshala slowly turned her head as she was directly addressed by the big, burly guard and could already feel his leecherous stares penetrating the dimness between them and scouring her in anticipation of what was to come. This was it then. She would have had to be a complete fool not to know what that man had in store for her, the ever repeating screams that echoed through the ship’s hull during the nights left little room for interpretation. But that was not the saddest thing about it. The saddest thing likely was that when that brute would drag her to his chamber, get her out of the simple knee length linen shirt that was her only item of clothing and then proceeded to mercilessly plough her – she would enjoy it.

It was one reason she had been branded an outcast by her own people down in the forest covered mountains of Southern Ternok. Her indiscriminate sexual appetite. She had lain with the old head priest of their village, a notable amount of married men, and at least one dog. Word spread and she was shunned, except by those that lusted for her beauty and cared only to sate their sexual desires. And beautiful she was, not even the crude garment or the dirt stains that were unavoidable after weeks in that cell could hide that fact. It was as if all the horny men of the continent had conspired to create the perfect embodiment of their want. A seductive and slender build of below average height, perfectly shaped legs crowned by a firm and petite ass and a slim waist, and maybe her most striking feature, her breasts, large and eye catching as they stood out and lifted the front of the shirt away from her. So remarkable was that feature that many did not get to admire her beautiful, delicate face. Her bronze skin, dark brown eyes and raven black hair were the tell tale sign of her people.

The other reason for her social disgrace had been that she was old Shali’s apprentice. ‘Witch’ was one of the friendlier terms the old woman had been labeled with, and everyone was surprised when she finally took a disciple, most of all her. But the old goat’s wit was still sharper that any knife, and she knew exactly why she had picked the derided village slut. In their time together Vinshala learned many a thing she had not even dreamt of before. Under the older woman’s tutelage she discovered she harbored a special gift that would allow her to unlock dark secrets and even darker applications, and at times even the ever miserable Shali seemed impressed by her progress. She was on her way to become one of those True Ternokian Witches that everyone considered just a legend from an older time.

Sadly things did not last like that forever, and the change was heralded the day she found her teacher cold and dead in her own bed. After the initial shock Vinshala had decided to leave that accursed village and those forests that had never been a true home for her. So she set out the very same day and never looked back. Only her journey did not last very long. In the first bigger city she met people she better would not have met. First they had fun together, and then they drugged her. When she woke up she was on that ship, and they were likely a few gold coins richer.

Since then she had been thinking about her escape. She had no desire to live a slave’s live, and she had the means to avoid it. If she was careful. Vinshala was smart enough to know that the efficiency of her powers would be amplified by the moment of surprise and the cover of ignorance, so the less she displayed the better. Therefore she had bidden her time, waiting for just the right moment. And that moment had come.

Raising from her pallet she slowly moved to the center of the room, arms dangling loosely at her sides, head only slightly bowed, her bare feet coming to stand neatly next to each other as she waited for the key to turn in the lock and the door to swing open. She appeared completely disinterested, resigned to her fate. She was none of that.

 

[Wreckles]

The grin displayed on Murl's features showed no signs of receding just because the more than attracting female in front of him had the demeanor of someone that had given up on life itself. This was what he was used to, all bent to his strength, and the women who refused to be intimidated by his stature were given other reasons to fear him. Like a predator confident in his kill on the prey he licked his lips and let his hungry eyes run up and down on her body. The bars swung open and the small cell were filled by his presence leaving little room for manouvers. The two guards that had accompanied him grinned to themselves, they didn't wear armor down here but their uniformes were made of black studded leather, clad in the material from top to toe they brandished them like soldiers that had just gone through basic training would. The sheated swords at their waists looked like they didn't belong there, then again it was nothing what it looked on Murl, the sword could be compared to a toothpick when faced with his size. Murl could not remember the last time he had drawn it. Staring down at the woman with the ample bust he rubbed his hands greedily together, savoring what was to come. "I hope you won't give me a reason to hurt that pretty face of yours little girl." Murl spoke with a voice that had forgotten what pain felt like, even though his body had numerous scars at random places. Short brown hair that seemed out of proportion grew on the top of his crown, barely covering the head.

It did not take much to entice Murl, and when presented with such a heavenly bounty he could do little to hold himself back, already feeling himself growing thicker beneath his leather pants. When he took a step further he placed his hands on the womans shoulders, holding her still and squeezing lightly to demonstrate that he was capable of snapping her like a twig if need be. Murl was not much of a conversationalist and now driven by his primal urges he started chuckling to himself as he effortlessly pulled off her fabric and threw it in a corner, only taking a few moments to relish her sex appeal. His large hands gripped her chest and much to his pleasure they were big enough that they didn't just disappear in his hold. With surprising glee he squeezed them and fondled them roughly, like a spoiled kid that had just gotten another toy he could afford to lose. The initial enjoyment diminished quickly and soon he wanted to have what he came for. Pushing the woman back to the wall, he unbuckled his belt with surprising nimbleness, his pants fell to the floor with a thud and were quickly joined by the white linen underpants. At his loins a substantial rod now stood proudly, slightly twitching with veins clearly visible. Warm to the touch and a shade of red due to the blood flowing within, it rested against the woman's inner thigh. Murl went on auto-pilot, his chubby fingers took a firm grip of the female's ass and lifted her several inches from the floor, spreading her legs open in the process. Not being one to pay attention to the finer details he never hesitated as he guided his size into her nether regions. Murl wasn't just a huge man, he was born with an equal substantial cock that - while almost looking small in comparison to the rest of his body - was more than enough to fill up women of all sizes to their limits. His breath smelled of fish as he breathed down hard onto the woman now safely locked within his holds, just as his tip found her opening he pressed her against him while moving his hips forward.

His cock bulldozed through her slit and forced her inner muscles to give way to his invasive tool. A little perk of his was that Murl's dick had the talent of producing large amounts of pre-cum when enticed enough. And no man would say that that wasn't exactly what Murl was now. Coated with this slick layer around his cock-head, it slid inside her with surprising ease. Now armed with an unintelligent look on his normaly less-than-so features, with mouth open and a hint of drool coming out he only had one goal in life right now. Pressing onwards with his hips, he watched as the woman's pussy swallowed more and more of his size, she was not very tight, more like her textures were forming around him due to his ample prod. Just as her crotch touched against his he begun rocking her back and forth, swiftly picking up the pace and rhythm as he proceeded fuck her. He was even harder than he was the night before, it was like all the other women he had thus far as his life as a jailor with benefits paled in comparison to what he had in front of him now. It was not that he had not seen her before now - oh no, it was just that once he saw her, he knew that he wanted to save the best for last. They were only hours away from their destination and he wanted to make the most of it. Now grunting he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against her lifted rear as he plunged inside her in a steady manner it was difficult for a man such as Murl to keep his strength at bay. He didn't notice that he was slamming the woman into the wall with his heavy thrusts, there was only the pleasure of being wrapped by something so divine as her pussy. The invasive tool scraped against her innards as it was pulled back and forth in a hectic manner, it slode more easily within her now as her pussy had accomodated more to his size, but still he was stretching her and the greedy appearance on his countenance foretold no information of how close he was - only that he was lost in pleasure.

 

[Cherubian]

It was just as she had expected. Not quite maybe, she had been surprised by the size of the tool Murl had it his disposal, but again that only helped to lead the events down the predicted path. That one being that she thoroughly enjoyed being fucked by the big brute. It did not matter that he cared little to nothing for her comfort, that he had her pinned roughly against the wall, her sizable breasts squeezed against the coarse leather of his chest piece. Or that he humped into her with reckless abandon, her bare back scraping over the ship’s wall planks every time he drove forward. All that paled compared to the sensation his massive dick caused as it scraped against the inner walls of her wet tunnel, stretching them good with its girth. She had tried for some time, but now she was no longer able to hold back her moans. Mostly because what concentration remained she needed for other tasks.

She knew that men were most vulnerable in the moment of ejaculation, and that was when she intended to strike. A quick glance over his shoulder, though, confirmed that complications had arisen. Two of them. Murl’s companions who by now had stepped into the cell, closed the door and were watching the unfolding spectacle, the contemptuous sneer on their faces only growing wider when they heard the sounds of pleasure coming from the perceived slut their boss was nailing.

Murl’s breathing grew more hectic by the second, and in all the pleasure induced haze she could still feel how his rod began to pulsate as it continued its incessant pounding. The big man finally was getting close, and the time for action had come. Only she was getting close as well. Nevertheless she turned her thoughts inside in well practiced fashion, prepared to call forth that darkness curled up somewhere within her just as old Shali had taught her, ready to strike. But then she sensed something strange, new. It came from within Murl, or from him at least. Something vivid, vibrant with energy. And it called out to her, a calling that had begun barely perceptible the moment she began her invocation, and rose by the second, whether it was so because she became more focussed on it or because Murl was closing in on his peak she could not tell. But the beckoning grew stronger, more intense, like a ripe fruit begging to be plucked, and suddenly she knew exactly how to reach for that prize.

With a wailing grunt Murl pushed forward one last time, his fingers digging into her ass with great force, and lodged into her firmly he began to spill his seed, flood her womb with his warm sperm spurt after spurt. The mysterious spark flared brighter than ever, and the moment her own orgasm hit she struck. Invisible tendrils of dark energy tore into the very essence of the tall man, unerringly reaching for their prize, and then they began to suck, siphoning his life force out of him and feeding the hungry beast within Vinshala, heightening the throes of the orgasm she found herself in at that moment. Murl began to jerk and shiver erratically, his manhood still nested deep inside the beauty he had pinned to the wall, until finally he had given all there was and his huge frame slumped backwards, his grip on Vinshala loosening and his genital sliding out of her as he landed on the ground with an audible thud, head thrown back, a contorted face and glassy, lifeless, broken eyes staring up at the ceiling.

The two other guards were taken completely by surprise by the unexpected development. At first they stared at the lifeless husk of their former boss, confusion apparent on their faces, and by the time their gazes had wandered upwards to that gorgeous black haired angel of death it was too lat. She stood atop the corpse, legs still spread like they had been during the act and Murl’s seed beginning to drip out of her snatch and drop onto his own bare legs. There was a dangerous glint in the woman’s eyes as both her arms shot up, and for a split second dark lines seemed to form between her finger tips and the chests of the two men. It felt as if something massive hit them, tore into them, and crushed their hearts. One last wave of agony before they joined Murl on the ground in death.

Vinshala was still vibrant with the energy she had sucked from Murl. Joroni-Hurnal. It made sense. Life drinker. That was what Shali had called them in her stories about the more diabolical manifestations of the gift. Witches that fed on the living to enhance their own abilities, each with a technique of her own. That lived amongst the mortals like the vampires of legend. Little else was known about them, and until a moment ago Vinshala had not thought they truly existed. But it explained many a thing. Why her abilities were centered around her own body and destruction, why she never could master the healing arts like her mentor did. Had old Shali suspected as much? She would never know.

There was time for more musings later. Now she needed to cover her tracks, since she doubted she could escape a witch hunt. So quickly Murl’s short sword was pulled from it’s sheath, and first sunk into his own chest and then that of his accomplices. Multiple times each for good measure, so no one would suspect another cause of death. Once that was done she quickly picked up her crude garment and slipped into it again. One of the guard’s belts fit around her waist if she used the most narrow notch, and it allowed her to carry a sheathed sword and place the key ring she had taken from Murl’s corpse. That done she poked her head out of the door, checking that no other guards were near, and then began to sneak down the corridor towards the exit. She had gotten out of her cell, now she needed to get off the ship.