Scribe's Retreat (SRP Profile, Ideas, Archives, Current Writings... and so on)

Gladiatrix

There were three men.

They were called Primus, Secundus, and Tertius. They had names, but no one called them by them. Attracted to riches, notoriety, and women, they found little more than training, exhaustion, and two duels a year -- typically against each other. In the ludus, theirs were the training stands furthest down the row, denoting their non-existent ranking. The first practiced with the gladius. The second practiced with the sickle. The third practiced with the trident and net. It didn't matter.

"Look at her. Look at that woman," the first one sneered. Despite having been training years longer than Septa, it was her who attracted the other fighters. It was her who had the attention of the trainers. It was her who would lead the school.

"Women are made for fucking, not fighting," sneered the second. While some men would watch to learn Septa's fighting technique, others merely watched to see her body.

"Pay attention," Primus would yell, as Secundus failed to parry. "Your going to get yourself hurt if all you think about are her tits!" he yelled, poorly connecting with his gladius.

"Ow! Don't fight so hard," yelled Secundus.

"What? What are you talking about," shouted Primus. "We're supposed to fight hard."

"Face it. I suck. You suck. We'll never make it out of here to the big leagues."

"I bet she sucks," said Tertius.

"What?" replied Primus.

"I bet she sucks," said Tertius. The hulking brute dropped his trident and net near his training stand and sloughed into the corridors underground.

"Shit," grumbled Primus. "Better get. C'mon." How the hell did he end up with a trident and net, wondered Primus.

"Yeah, I want her first," grinned Secundus. "I wonder if she's a virrrrgin!"

*****

Snaking their way through the dimly lit underground corridors, the trio crept toward's Septa's changing room. Secundus had led the three, but now hugged the wall around the corner from the entrance.

"Cold feet?" sneered Primus.

"Just coming up with a plan," hesitated Secundus.

"There is no plan," responded Primus. He kicked down the door to the room. "Already starting to undress?" he said to Septa. "Good. Let me help." He then grabbed the leather band, pulling, then ripping the seams, releasing her breasts. Her skirt he tore upward, bits of metal inlay flying across the room.

"Take the rest of her clothes off!" hopped Secundus.

"You do it," said Primus, already stripping. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you?" said the plump man, sweating. "You just come in with your tits and your wealth and take over?" he sneered. "Hold her down," he said to the smaller man. Secundus grabbed Septa's arms, as the lumbering Tertius grabbed her leg. Secundus began tearing off her bracers. "Throw her down on the bench." Primus set to work, spreading her legs for his cock. Sliding the head in, he began fucking her. "Your dry hole is useless," Primus said, pinning her back by grabbing her hair. He began to pump, thrusting his penis into her. "This is all you're good for. You're no gladiator."

Errtu's snakelike appendage slid up the young woman's smooth stomach, leaving a trail of sweat and ooze. It mindlessly flopped, eventually reaching her breast, sliding and wrapping itself around it. The elongated flesh sprouted a small mouth with teeth, and suckled on her teat, biting it, prickling it. It then unwrapped, snapping and flicking, as it sought her wanton mouth. Finding it, the creature forced its way in, pulsating past her lips, teeth, throat. Errtu groaned, feeling the soft flesh of the woman.

Meanwhile, his prominent dick rammed her pussy once again. His momentous balls slammed against her ass, as his armored cock slid within her tight confines. He grasped her breasts, pinching, almost bleeding them with his bony claws.

His breath was hot, stallion like, dripping with steam and sulfur. The room, enveloped in darkness, began to glow with the unholy red light emanating from his rough-skinned body. His eyes burned with a yellow flame. Soon... soon... he would flood her quim, burning it with his seething seed.

Takumi's pants fell to the floor, allowing his hardening member to press against his boxers. Keiko's hips pressed against his fingers and her hand ran through his hair. Takumi took Keiko's free hand, and placed her palm against his hard-on, and gently thrust against her, a slow spot of wetness appearing at the tip of his manhood. Meanwhile, his sugary cream coated fingers were thrusting harder, wetly sliding and becoming coated with her own juices as well.

"Keiko..." Takumi moaned into his sister's wet kiss. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth, earnestly licking, melding the sweet cream of the frosting with the taste of their saliva. He broke the kiss, a trail of saliva bridging their panting mouths. He then traveled lower, his mouth leaving kisses down her neck to her chest, finally landing upon one of her swollen breasts.

He groaned again, his fingers more insistent within her soft wet pussy. His teeth playing and nibbling against her firm taut nipples. He cock eager and pressing against her delicate fingertips. "Stoke my cock..." he moaned, lightly biting her breast.

Three pairs of lagomorphic ears crept through the nearly dark undergrowth beneath the canopy of the Amazon rainforest. Fortified with Vitamin-A infused carrots, they could see their prey, a young woman with blonde hair. She was dressed in khaki, a fedora hat, and long brown boots.

"She is not a soldier," whispered the medium-sized one, crouching ahead of the others.

"Then we shall take her," hissed the tallest one. "We must capture a human before we become too lonely and perish!"

The smallest hopped forward and gave a signal. "She is asleep! Do it now!"

"Don't tell me what to do. I am the leader here!" The three gathered around the sleeping woman and the tallest one prodded her with the tip of her spear. "Wake up. Wake up, liebchen. If you do not understand our language, we will kill you. Well, we will have our way first, keep you around a bit, then kill you. Now, turn around a bit. We must inspect you."

The three lagomorphs smiled as the young woman turned around. "I believe we have potential," grinned the tallest one. "Perfect for breeding purposes. But we must look closer." She paused for dramatic effect, then said one word.

"Strip."

Brighton took a puff on his cigarette as he watched the ocean. He was an older man, a tired man, who looked upon the waves as his muse and found none. He was still handsome, as needed by a man in his profession, but, as the waves receded into the water, so was his passion for work. Brighton was an architect, an artist, with a need for water. He owned a small section of beach and designed his house with blues, pools, fountains, and waterfalls. Yet he himself wore, nowadays, brown coats and slacks, atop his white turtleneck. The ocean breeze blew through his grey-tinged brown hair. He puffed the cigarette again. He took out and opened his pocket ashtray and put out the cigarette. He liked to walk on to the public beach, absentmindedly, as the water receded where his barefoot steps were, taking away his presence as he moved forward. The sunset of the waning purple-red light filtered through ever present clouds signalling night. Water slowly lapped up on the shores, a monotonous perpetuity of lost time and inspiration. He then noticed something washed up ashore. His eyes perked up, his eyebrows raised. Driftwood and rocks blocked his view of the section of beach where the something lay. He walked just a little bit faster.

He then beheld the woman. A tanned black-haired beauty, whose hair suggested a green shimmer of the sea. He rubbed his eyes at the incongruity of the cruelty of the sea and her unexpected loveliness. He shook his head, for she was naked, and removed his brown coat. It was not his most expensive coat, for that was for clients he had to look handsome for, and draped it over her body. He then placed the back of his fingers next to her nose to see if she was breathing. She was. He felt some relief, as his coat rose and fell with the flow of the waves. She would become colder. He lifted her, cradling her in his arms as if birthed by the sea. He had been wed at one time, but nothing came of it. Straight lines and measured circles of his architecture and art were enough for him. He paused to thought were he to take responsibility for her, but knew he would call the police to pick her up soon.

Keep warm. He carried her through the back of his house, placid water falling, swimming, and swirling in a myriad of dutiful pools, waterfalls, and art. He then entered the guest bathroom, a white opulence again to impress clients he would entertain in his home. He ran the water, lukewarm, and gently placed the woman in it. He again cradled her head in his hands, his coat now wet with the water from the bathtub. He cleared the hair from her face, and looked, pausing to realize her unexpected beauty.

Sand clung her legs. Was hurt there? He was unsure, knowing that unbroken skin did not mean some sort of injury. He lightly stroked her legs with his hands, and felt for anything wrong. He wasn't sure what to do, but this was so unusual. As he continued to clean off the sand from her legs, something more unexpected happened. Scales began to appear on her body, her legs now melding into a fishlike tail. Surely, this was impossible.

I thank you for your petition to spread my influence with your realm, and request your presence at my mansion located at XXX. I'm sure your knowledge of your people will be an asset towards my conquest, and you will be well rewarded in not only power, but your desires of the flesh. However, I do have requirements, and it is important to me that you comply with the personalities of my subordinates. The inhabitants of the mansion will be your liason -- and perhaps your own resources -- between your realm and that of mine, Vamore. While a demon cannot expect the personalities of all their underlings to pleasantly coexist, a certain amount of amicability is desirable. And, as I have invited you, I believe you will get along quite well with the mansion's inhabitants, if you so desire.

Though they may wear guises of servants withing your realm, do not underestimate the power of the creatures that inhabit the mansion. Indeed, it would be best if they looked entirely like humans, though it seems humans, or at least some of them, are quite willing to accept them as they are, if only for exotic reasons. Scylla is the housekeeper of the mansion. She is the highest ranking servant of the mansion, and therefore the highest ranking being there. Myself, I regret to say am off on one of my travels. I have found rumors of coupling I must draw and capture within my book of art. We are creatures of passion, and art means so much to me.

But I digress. Scylla will have the honor of receiving your presence, though other further action is up to her. We have other servants who will attend to your needs, and I hope you understand Scylla's priority of my interests. But perhaps I am overconcerned. Speaking of guests, you are certainly permitted to bring another. Be forewarned that she is entering a demon's lair, and should have the nature and desirability that you possess. As an artist, I could not help but draw then show off my pictures of you, and they certainly want to meet you.

The Tenth Princess,


Mari

The mansion gates parted, appearing long open within the eyeshot of the young woman. The gate's wrought iron bars looked perfectly normal, not blackened bones of creatures past of not this world. As she walked across the perfectly ordinary gravel path to the manor, she did not notice the nearly ground bits of marrow mixed within the minute stones, which were long taken and crushed from cemetary graves. The bushes and hedges looked perfectly green, a little too saturatedly so, and weren't just slightly moving gigantic white thorns when seen through the corner of one's eyes. As she walked, the sky dimmed, a moody cloudy grey, not a sudden purple and white when she blinked. The windy air was just a bit humid, carrying whispers and laughter unreminscent of a child's. Birds did not sing, and insects did not buzz, though curious singing and noisesome sounds did oddly echo unless listened for. The entrance of the mansion were columns, great risers pushing the roof against the sky. Two stories of curtain-shut windows balefully looked down, straining to look at the new guest or intruder to its domicile. Above the door, a hanging line sliced above her, slowly moving still under the light wind when looked at.

Ding dong, she pressed the bell. Ding... tzzt.

The hanging light creaked sullenly, as it appeared just lower than it seemed to have been hanging when she approached the entrance. The wind blew quietly, and the door finally opened, silently. The great foyer lifted up, a wide darkness splatteringly lit by the flickering, sputtering, chandelier. Candlelabras lined the columns within the room, illuminating the stone and marble walls, as well as the red blood of the carpet. Lit at the far end of the room was a portrait of Mari, the succubus in the white summer dress. Her details were quite clear, even at this distance. Outlined between the picture and the entrance, was a woman. Upon closer inspection, she held a candlelabra, small flames flickering.

"I'm sorry about the lights," she said. A wry smile just shown as the candlelabra flickered. An unusually audible click was heard, the lights turned on, and the room was perfectly normal. In her hand, she held a nondescript clicker. "Damned electricity," she said, perhaps ironically. "Not used to it here."

"Anyway," she changed the subject, "I am the housekeeper, Scylla. I report to Mari, and run this home. Mari has instructed myself and the other servants to address you and receive you as is appropriate. I hope you will adjust yourself quickly. Your attendees have taken your baggage and will leave them in the room. Follow me to the veranda in the backyard." She again made an audible click, plunging the room into black darkness. Were the young woman to look closely, the housekeeper's feet did not move almost right underneath her long maid's uniform. Sometimes, while walking forward, the heels of both feet would appear under her skirt. Other times, things flowed underneath her dress not quite right.

The door to the veranda opened, cascading light into the foyer. Beyond the door, a beautiful English landscape, befit of flowers, could be seen. There was indeed colors, but none quite distinguishable, and none lacking the ambulation that flowers had. "Take a seat," Scylla said. She poured into teacups the steaming hot tea, an odd scent, an addicting scent, that wafted towards the young woman's nostrils. "We produce it here," the wry smile appearing again, in plain view of the young woman.
The housecleaner's eyes were a black ink.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, and what attracts you to Mari?" the housecleaner said, leaning just a little forward with her hands folded under her chin. She smiled, just a little more honestly, with what was not a piercing gaze. On the floor her not-foot slid across the floor, under the table, slowly curling around the young woman's foot, then a little higher.

"You do underestand, we have much to offer, but request in same in return." What it was underneath the table slowly slid up the calf of her leg, leaving warm loving puckered kisses. "Do you enjoy the taste of the tea? Do you enjoy its essence?" A small pressure of a tip insisted upon the young woman's thigh. "I hope it will enhance the pleasure you will have here in the mansion."

"Nyah, hah hah," cried out Future Queen Esmirelda. She swung her semi-magical staff OF DOOM!!! above her head, as her foot stepped down on the vanquished overlord. Her short-cut pink hair waved triumphantly, as the over-armored sorceress with the really big pointy hat grinned gleefully, her one also pointy fang prominently visible and reflecting off with that cross you sometimes see in anime with lensflare. Her long black cape also waved majestically before her, not getting caught in anything and unusual because there are no wind currents in an orc warlord's lair.

"Indeed," said her faerie familiar, dryly. Although it flit around like all those other faeries who glow to keep the anime drawing budget down, this faerie, upon closer inspection of its character design sheets, was hardly a naked chick for pervy otaku to wank to, but a stolid butler, attending to his mistress' every need, although more like providing dry sarcastic remarks like that Alfred guy. "Shall we attend to the dungeon," he said.

"Yes! We shall free the elven maidens and beautiful princesses, and suck 'em dry for our mana! Nyahahaha!"

"Didn't it occur to you that not all orc warlords have, as you say it, elven maidens and beautiful princesses, particularly for you to 'suck dry', as it were?"

"Can't hear ya, baldy. That rich pure maiden mana's gonna be useful to power my higher level spells! Yessir, gonna use them telepethy... talapathy... mind-readin' spells on that ol' witch before she knows what's comin' to her."

"It's telepathy, and do you know what's coming to *you*???"

"Can't hear ya, baldy," the young fanged woman said, finally reaching the lower ares and kicking the door open with one fell kick. But beyond the door were no elves, no princesses. "What?? What the hell's that?" she said, her jaw dropping to the floor.

"That, I believe, is the oxymoron. It's called an orc harem."

"Why, hello Auntie. I'm so glad we're staying with you. We love being with you. And making you treats. Do you like what we make for you? Do you like to lick the white cream frosting off our delicious cupcakes? Do you like the thick sweet cream of milkshake? Was the dip nice and salty?" You smell the delicious scent of sweets in the air, the warmness emanating from the kitchen, as I slowly stir the white chocolate. As you enter the kitchen, you see me dribbling the chocolate all over my fingers. I pretend not to notice you, and arch back a bit, my hand above me, the white chocolate dripping into my mouth. We're wearing tight-fitting black blouses, and short red skirts. My sister is leaning forward on top of me, as if to look at the candy double-boiling on the pot. She looks at you, placing some candy on her fingertips onto her lips. She slides suggestively on my body, her hot big cock and bountiful breasts rubbing on my rear and backside. "Welcome home, Auntie," she says.

Summoning Ritual

And... back, after a long hiatus! Send me a PM if you like any of my ideas, are a female writer, and would like to play!

The gray-skinned warlock smiled as the young woman made her request. "Oh, you wish to live a life of your own? Well, there is no better way than to share it with your heart's desire. Take a lock of your hair and place it upon this token." The warlock handed the young woman a strange looking gilded object. The cylinder fit into the palm of her hand, curved slightly, and almost seemed to pulse on its own. "At midnight, sit on your bed, and hold this. The tip will alight and guide your hand to your desire." As the warlock's hand crossed with gold, she grinned, waving goodbye to the young Draenei. "Enjoy your heart's desire," the warlock said. As the young woman left, closing the door, the warlock shifted into her actual form. "I certainly will."

As the ritual started, the gilded object began to beat more fervently in her hand. The rounded tip began to ooze a clear golden liquid onto her palm, a sticky substance trickling down her wrist. It urged her, beckoned her, to place it between the space of her thighs. Truly she would summon tonight that which she desired.

As your light pink skirt disappears out the door

Your delicious moans entice me to continue, your tongue sliding along my shaft as you moan louder and faster with every stroke. I move one hand around to your firm breast and cup it while I fondle the other. Your soft skin makes a sucking sound as you groan in pleasure from my touch and your own sensual ministrations on your slick flesh. Your nipples are hard and rigid against the tender flesh of your chest and they make tiny pops when I lightly pinch them between my fingers. The only sounds coming from us are your husky sighs and the wet slurping noises of your lips drawing the skin of my cock into your mouth, suckling at my crown like a woman lost in lust.

As you begin to cum, I am rewarded by the sound of squishing from your pussy. It takes only moments for you to release the sweet taste of my seed in your warm mouth, milking me slowly as I keep you locked onto my length. You have barely finished swallowing my cum before your body begins to shudder in ecstasy. My dick slips out of your quivering lips as you start to fall back onto my thigh, panting loudly as you slide down. I can feel the warmth of your fluids dripping from my aching cock as I hold you close to my chest and kiss you deeply.

You gently extricate yourself from my arms and give me a small peck on the lips. "I hope that wasn't too rough for you," you say, biting your lower lip.

"Oh no, honey, not at all," I assure you as I bend over to pick up our clothes. "I'm just glad we finally got to spend some time together."

You giggle as you dress quickly and slip on your shoes. As I do the same, I take a moment to admire how beautiful you look as you hurry to get ready for work. After buttoning up your blouse and zipping up your skirt, you turn to face me, but rather than making an effort to kiss me goodbye, you simply tilt your head back and wink at me before turning away.

"See you tonight," you whisper through the open window.

I lean across the bed, cupping both of your soft cheeks in my hands and kissing you softly on the lips once more. "Goodbye, baby," I tell you, watching as your light pink skirt disappears out the door.