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The witch came to a halt within a darkened room and immediately slunk down one of the corners. The rhythmic footsteps of her pursuers rushed past the room. Her eyes, which shone like a pair of amethysts in the dark, darted to and fro in fear, her heart racing as the horde searched for her through the dungeon’s halls.
Mindless, tireless and driven by a power far beyond them, the many skeletal undead clumsily charged through the halls, the clatter of their bones sending chills down her spine. Had the party been united still, even such large numbers would have been manageable. Now, she could only stand there and wait, hoping their stupidity would be her salvation.
Many dozens of feet clattered past her hiding spot, her heart racing. Finally, the sounds started growing fainter and fainter. Only once they finally faded in the distance did she allow herself a gasp of relief.
Her violet, form-fitting travelling clothes were torn in places, revealing the pale skin underneath. She had cuts and bruises all over and was quite sure the faint smell of something burnt was coming from her hat and hair. All the result of several incredibly close calls during her heroic escape. Edda had certainly seen better days.
Even as she tried to calm down after avoiding her pursuers, her heartbeat was quick and her mind unfocused. The result of some kind of curse, she was certain. Their employers had spoken of a necromancer using these defiled halls as a base of operations. The necromancer had not been a human, however, but a powerful demoness who turned their barbarian meat shield against them within moments. Though Edda had resisted the creature’s attempt to control her mind, the side effects of the spell still lingered, as evidenced by the trail of moisture moving down her left thigh.
With every passing moment, her mind grew more focused on lustful thoughts. Even as she tried to recall where the other party members had scattered, her mind always lingered on one thing. Her lovely companion Sahja. A felinid with a toned, athletic physique, Sahja looked almost human, save for several cat-like features, including big, fluffy ears, a long tail and sharp claws. Edda could almost imagine the catgirl’s golden eyes, staring into hers in the dim light of their shared tent.
Edda realised she was masturbating. As if on impulse alone, her hand had slithered into her breeches, her fingers now teasing her wet folds with circular movements.She stifled a moan with her free hand, some bit of her sanity knowing that was not a good idea at all considering her current circumstances. But she could not stop herself at this point. She needed the release.
She slumped against the wall, ‘working’ quickly as her mind drifted through fantasies and memories in equal measure. Inevitably, Sahja was always involved, as her lover or as her partner in unwitting crime. From their nightly tumbles in the tent, to the times when they had been forced to… negotiate with an entire town militia due to the paladin’s insistence on ignoring due process. The smell of spunk had remained in Sahja’s fur for weeks. Always, the two had been together during such moments.
But not now. Even as Edda’s sane mind worried deeply about the felinid, the lust overpowered such concerns. Her fingers finally pushed inside of her pussy, and she moved them in complex, practiced patterns to stimulate every nook and cranny. She kept going, pushing deeper with every repeated motion. She kept at it for what seemed like an eternity, somehow unable to properly get off.
Perhaps an intentional effect of the spell, her somewhat-lucid mind chimed in? An extra layer of frustration to further break her will? As she tried to contemplate it, her hands never ceasing their work, something from above dripped onto her hat. She froze in place, her eyes darting upwards. The liquid was clear, yet viscous, and as she focused on the ceiling, she spotted hints of movement up there. Swiftly, she withdrew her hands from her nethers, fingers desperately weaving an offensive spell, while her eyes lit up with arcane power in order to see her would-be foe.
Instead, she froze in place as her eyes gazed upon a friend. Sahja gazed at her from the ceiling, countless tentacles restraining and roaming across her body. Her golden eyes were open, but lacked the spark of life, staring out into oblivion. Her head moved from side to side as one of the many tentacles was busy invading her skull, entering through one ear and exiting out the other in rapid succession, droplets of unnameable fluids and bits of brain matter spurting out at the apex of every thrust.
Edda almost threw up at the sight, but the influx of terror and sorrow prevented it in the end. Even as her mind raced, desperately going through the stages of denial and manufacturing implausible explanations, her eyes took in more of the sight. Sahja’s ears were not the only thing being violated, with other tentacles snaking their way into her undergarments and even forcefully stretching open the catgirl’s nipples and sampling her ample titflesh from within. A horrific sight, all in all.
So why could she not look away? Why could her fingers not stop stimulating her cunt? Despite the storm of negative emotions raging in her mind, the sight aroused her more than anything before. “The spell,” her sanity cried out, “you must stop or be lost!”
But Edda could not stop. She was transfixed by the sight. The corpse of her friend and lover was being defiled in front of her and all she could think of was how beautiful Sahja still looked. How, even after her demise, her body was absolutely irresistible. Lost in her lust, the witch’s fingers moved faster and deeper, right down to her knuckles. Wet slapping sounds echoed through the halls as Edda practically slammed her hand into her cunt, her pleasuring escalating to rough fisting in no time at all.
In her lustful haze, the witch did not notice an approaching danger. Trickle by trickle, a mass of green, gelatinous material poured into the room from a small crack in the walls. Unhindered by such crevices, slimes had a tendency of popping up in all manner of places and then proceeding to cause issues for locals. Under ordinary circumstances, a veteran adventurer like Edda would have made short work of the creature as it moved towards her at a glacial pace. But then and there, its noiseless approach went unnoticed. Its prey was far too focused on the tentacles, which were now forcefully stretching open Sahja’s nipples and invading her breasts in great numbers.
The slime moved, inch by inch, driven by no higher will or purpose. Only pure, base instinct. To grow ever larger by absorbing nutrients. Fortune smiled upon the simple creature on that day, it seemed. The little human was so close and completely oblivious. Just one good pounce, just one sudden movement…
By the time Edda’s senses realised what was happening, it was far too late. Her vision got blurry, the world taking on a green hue as the monster enveloped her head and upper torso, its bulk pulling her backwards. She panicked and tried to scream, but all she managed to do was inhale the slime directly into her lungs. It poured itself into her, pushing down her throat, nose and even her ears as the witch struggled pathetically… her hands still furiously pleasuring her cunt. Even now, with her life on the line, she could not stop.
In fact, it felt even better than before. The feeling of absolute powerlessness as the slime grappled her only served to excite her further. “Yes,” her compromised mind cried out, “yes, please, end me!” Her mouth may have voiced some complaints, but all she got was another glob of disgusting jelly.
The slime poured under her clothing, covering every inch of her body in its sticky, gooey body. It coalesced especially around the witch’s breasts, intrigued by the two globes to no end as it prodded and twisted her nipples. To its delight, it found them malleable, able to be pried open just enough for its gelatinous form to pass through them and inside her tits, bloating them up with the influx of new material.
Despite Edda’s not-entirely-consensual enjoyment of the situation, her body still had needs. Oxygen, especially. So even as she worked herself fervently to the last, and best, orgasm of her life, the witch’s body spasmed uncontrollably, trying to break away from the creature and get at least a single breath. To no avail, as even if she managed to break free, the monster was already within her lungs. There was no escape to be had, not anymore.
Her struggles grew weaker with each passing moment as she choked on her killer. Every last shred of energy was dedicated to getting herself off, desperately trying to feel that wondrous peak to all her efforts… all of her life, even! And as a glob of unnameable fluids spurted onto her from one of Sahja’s ravaged holes, she finally got her wish.
An inaudible scream left Edda’s lips, her legs kicking weakly as she reached the peak, several violent spurts of her juices painting the floor under her. The orgasm was the best she had ever had, powerful enough to completely black out any of her current discomforts. She faded into eternal blackness, her face contorted into one of absolute bliss as her body went limp.
Only loud, echoing squelching sounds emanated from the chamber then, as both the slime and the tentacles continued to defile their victims, both driven not by malice or cruelty, merely primal urges. Ones which just so happened to cause such exquisite pain.
Elsewhere, deep within the dungeon, two emerald eyes flashed with unnatural energies as the two adventurers’ performance ended, droplets of sweat rolling down her alabaster skin. Their musclebound compatriot was busy plowing the succubus’ hungry cunt, her immaculate, curvaceous body jiggling delightfully as he fucked her. His technique was rather poor, but his brute characteristics more than enough to compensate for such deficiency.
The demoness chuckled to herself, even as the buffoon’s life force flowed into her with each thrust, his body withering further with every moment. She had expected more of a challenge, truthfully. But it was nice to have a relatively calm week for a change. Hopefully, future harvests would be just as bountiful.
Many more adventurers would meet their end within the abandoned crypts in the coming months, before the demoness was successfully vanquished by a particularly enterprising warlock. Their bodies or belongings were never recovered. The locals deemed it worthwhile to at least construct a simple monument to remember those who had fallen. The names were often incomplete, owing to the brief time such would-be heroes had spent in the area. The names Sahja and Edda were there too, etched into the stone right next to each other. Hopefully, they would find eternal peace.
“I told you they’d be useful, master. I’ve kept them as my favourite playthings for a reason.”
The demoness giggled as her master looked back at their zombie escorts, currently busy helping them haul all the loot from the crypts. Preserved through her foul magics, the felinid and the former witch were beautiful, indeed. What they lacked in personality they made up for in unholy strength, “I do admit, Nashandra, you do have an eye for quality.”
The succubus laughed again as she pressed herself against him, emitting an otherworldly purr as she did so. She definitely did.
After all, for both warlock and succubus, it had been love at first sight.