Commoving Romances ( Closed for Axilyae )

Dark Interruption( Closed for Axilyae )

*plip! plop! plip!*

Each step Grey took in the dank dungeon interior seemed to find another puddle of water. He was glad he had decided to wear his knee-high boots. Come to think of it, from the looks of the dreggy liquid, and this being a dungeon, it was probably not water at all.

Grey carelessly flicked off the remnants of the moisture from his boots and continued forward.

*plop!*

"Damn it all to the second circle of the discordant realms of the Inner Sanctum!", Grey began to shriek as he ripped his boot from the new puddle. A chorus of echoing jeers and half uttered giggles began to strike at his back. He quickly spun around, swooping down with his torch to bring it to bare just above a small army of tiny black blobs. Each one sported a small conical protrusion at the top of which held a slight opening. The mouth like openings were working in furious motion; the source of the laughter became abundantly clear.

"Why you...", Grey quickly darted a look up at his troll slave, Pleasant. Without a word the troll began to stomp on the mutinous minions, crushing four or five at a time under his massive feet.

Pleasant always knows how to send my heart a'fluttering!, Grey grinned as the claustrophobic confines of the narrow dungeon pathway were filled with melodramatic wailing of "Noooo!", and screams of, "Treachery!" , and none-too-few *pop!*'s and long *splutter*'s as Pleasant continued his decimation of the small shadowy things.

"Now, let that be a lesson to you for your undue insubordination!", Grey whispered to the dozen dozen tiny inscrutable black corpses. Pleasant had ground them into an inky black pulpy mess. The soles of Pleasant's feet and his large green and yellowish toes were covered in their 'gore'.

"Are we ready to go back to work?", he let the question linger as he brought the torch down closer to the rapidly congealing mishmash of minions, as if threatening to set them ablaze if he didn't receive the right answer.

"yesssssssss", a sly mono-syllabic utterance echoed from the pool of minion bodies.

Satisfied , Grey spun on his heel, taking the lead once again as he trudged on through the dungeon.


***************************

Imryll leaned against the balcony, a cool breeze creating goosebumps up and down her body; the blue colour of her skin turning almost white as the coming night brought a chill that seemed to reach her very bones. How she loved to sight-see upon the Elven capital from here, safe and secure in the guest room she had been temporarily placed in. She had only previously gazed upon this view as a prisoner, and now she looked upon it with the confident gaze of an accepted citizen, an honoured gues- no. Not a guest anymore. An honoured member of the Elven Royal family. A smile curled up the edges of her lips, her almond eyes - the colour of freshly bloomed lavender - creasing slightly as she remembered, the circumstances which had brought her together with her husband. An Elven prince, no less. A wonderful man, if not a tad arrogant and aggressive in his ways. They could not be more opposite; from their culture, to their looks. He was tall, she was short. He boasted a short crop of thick, almost white hair, his eyes golden, small and narrowed. Imryll had long, blue-grey hair that almost shimmered in the light; her eyes large. His skin was that of a fleshy peach, whilst hers was the silvery blue of her people - the Nymph. It was these differences that had first repulsed them, but in the end brought them together.

Her thoughts were interrupted with a sudden gush of cold air; the wind picking up and surprising her. With a small yelp she retreated to the indoors, closing the fine-glass doors and hurrying to sit on the chair by the fire. It would not be long before Ahrin would arrive, to complete the marriage ritual. As she tried to relax, her fingers fidgeted and scratched at the chair arms, their long, shaped nails making small marks in the thin fabric. Frowning, she distracted herself by folding her arms, annoyed at the swathes of thin, translucent material that covered her. Elven ceremonies, bah! She allowed herself a snort of amusement. So elaborate, so many unneeded traditions. Throughout the course of the day she had already been stuffed into four different outfits for each part of their wedding; and now this was the final stage. Hurrying maids had dragged her out of the heavy, stiff dress she'd worn to greet her new, Elven family; and into..whatever this was. A small slip dress, made out of plain white cloth, that only barely covered her modesty. Over that, her tiny, lithe body was wrapped in this white tulle - the colour of purity, she had been told by one particularly talkative maid as she had applied her make-up. The servants here had never been so close to a Nymph before, and they had mostly been silent, unaware of how to talk to her. It had taken much patience not to snap at them. But them, Imryll could not blame them for their way of thinking. It was not ago that she had felt the same way. Sometimes it still felt strange, seeing so many Elves around her and not being in danger.

The Nymph and the Elven had been at war for as long as any of them could remember. It had been so long, that no one really knew what had even started their hatred of each other. Historians had their ideas, but there was no records of the exact beginnings of the battles. The most believable reason would be over territory, but that had long since stopped being an issue and it was mostly out of pride and past war crimes that still continued the bloodshed.

That was until Imryll had been taken as a war prisoner. She was not a princess; the Nymph did not have Royalty like the Elven did. However, she was the daughter of a high-ranking Noble family, one of the three most respected amongst Nymph society. Her father was one of the War Commanders - and therefore, she was a hefty prize for the Elven unit who brought her back to their capital. Strung up in a filthy cell, it took six months for her freedom to be granted. During that time, her life had changed. The first four months had been, naturally, quite terrible. Starting with staring, and mere name-calling; the Guards of their prisons soon took it upon themselves to use her as a vent for their hatred for the Nymph. It was lucky they had never been able to get into her cell; Imryll still shuddered at what they might have done, if able to physically touch her. They had still been able to throw things however, to spit and to mentally abuse. Her food had been withdrawn and she was in a sorry state when the Prince, Ahrin, finally took it upon himself to visit their special prisoner. He had been horrified at her treatment, and had visited her every day to make sure the bullying had stopped. It was in those visits that they got to know each other; and for the remaining two months of her captivity; they had managed to fall in love.

Sighing, Imryll stretched her arms, leaning back on the chair. That had been a year ago - and it had taken a year of arguments, debates and discussions on both sides, until both species had agreed. Ahrin and Imryll would marry, which would initiate a neutral truce. There was more details, more clauses and catches in the agreement; but Imryll had left that for Ahrin to memorise. She was just happy she could be with the man who had saved her life; her other half, and her partner in bringing the Elven and the Nymph together, and stopping the war.

Now, the only thing stopping them finally being recognised as a true couple, was this final stage of the ceremony. Ahrin had not told Imryll much about this; but she had a faint idea. Another smirk crossed her face, which turned to a grin of delight as she finally heard a soft knocking on the door. It could only be Ahrin. Lifting herself off the chair gracefully, she walked to the door; her heart beating hard with anticipation. Opening it carefully, she giggled as Ahrin's smiling face was revealed. He bowed formally, handing her a single, red rose as he spoke:

"Today has not been the most romantic, my love. I apologise..my people, they love their ceremonies. It is nearly over."

Imryll nodded, taking the rose and placing it on the side-table near the door.

"I understand, Ahrin. I do..bu-"

He interrupted her words, holding a slender finger to her lips. She flushed in annoyance, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"All will be explained soon. Just follow me. Trust me."

Taking her hand; he led her from her room, allowing her time to shut it carefully. Luckily, this part of the palace was completely owned by him - there was no worry of any other males being able to see her in her revealing outfit. Imryll stayed close to him, despite knowing this - she felt so vulnerable! In a place she still did not think of as home, with no personal protection. Shivering, it was only a few minutes later that she realised they had been taking the stairway down to the dungeons. She had never been there; only been told of where this stairway led to. Clutching at him, she spoke to him in a hushed whisper.

"Wh-what is this? Where are we going?"

Ahrin shook his head once more, now looking slightly irritated at her lack of trust.

"My dear, patience. Please. You shall soon see."

"....and candles! We need more candles!"

Grey was pacing the room's perimeter, thrusting his arms out in random directions as he dictated his wants, his needs, to his obedient army of shadowy blobs who were bouncing around aimlessly in a sort of mobile black carpet. The steady sounds of *fwap!*, *fwap!*, *fwap!*, and muffled moans could be heard in between his incessant orders.

"....the kind with that cinnamon-y smell! I swear if you bring me back anymore of the lavender I'll..."

*fwap!, fwap!, fwap!*

Grey gazed daggers across the room at his troll slave, not appreciating the continued annoyance. The nearly eight-foot muscle bound creature returned his gaze levelly, showing that if it understood his facial expressions and body language, it surely did not care.

"Could you please keep that down? If you were any louder you'd give us away to the entire kingdom!"

That wasn't true. If he had screamed at the top of his lungs, or even had Him scream at the top of his lungs, no one outside of the room would hear a peep.

Grey continued to pace the room as his minions rifled through the bag Pleasant had brought with them, bringing out more odds and ends, but mostly the candles he had requested. He finally stopped in front of the full-stand mirror, its frame twisted, scraped, and fastened together by the sheer will of two minions latching themselves to loose corners and physically keeping it from falling a part. Pleasant also had carried that in with them. A prize from one of their earlier adventures.You'd think he didn't like it, Grey mused as he couldn't imagine the thing surviving any more abuse than if he had intentionally tried to bust it up himself. It would do though.

He ran his slender fingers through his long black hair, perfectly adjusting the long locks on either side of his narrow lengthy pointed ears. The silvery rune-script in demon-tongue flowing across the left hand side of his face, and indeed down the rest of his body, sparkled in the flickering candle light. His greyish colored skin, where he had naturally derived his sorcerer name so long ago, was made to look darker by the luminescence of the magical lettering across it combined with the matching silver trim of his black clothes. He fingered the high collar of his black long-coat, adjusting it just so. He was meticulous in his grooming.

*fwap, fwap, fwap*

The sound of flesh slapping against itself had taken a muted precautious rhythm, like a naughty child testing the boundaries.

"Pleasant! What did I tell....Ahhhh, I knew it!"

He was hard, and flushed. Pleasant had been working on him for hours, and finally...the spoiled pompous brat was indulging in his baser instincts.

Grey eyed the Prince as he hung limply from the chains mounted to the wall. He was stark naked, with his arms drawn back behind him, bound by iron manacles and chained securely to the wall. His neck was fastened to the middle of the room by an iron choker with a length of chain binding it to the floor. He was stuck in a bent over pose, perfect for Pleasant's attentions as the troll began to pick up his pace.

Even though the Prince was finally enjoying his predicament, Grey did not envy him. The troll was huge. Each stroke was nearly a solid foot of wrist thick pipe forcing itself deep within him. The Prince's short white hair was matted and bound to his skull with sweat. His moans were becoming louder and louder around the shadowy minion attached to his face. Grey knew he was close, and so was his minion driving its own version of a small dick into the Prince's throat. He had allowed the minions to take turns playing with his captive, mounting his face and sating their own desires down his throat. He could control his shadowy consorts, force them into whatever shape he wished, corporeal or insubstantial, but they did have independent wills of their own, however minute. The Prince's belly must be almost full to bursting with their seed, He probably was enjoying this too much.

Grey stepped to the side as another loud drawn out muffled wail from the Prince signified the beginning of his impending release. He didn't want to get any on him, after all, he was wearing black.

The loud *clang* and sound of rusted metal peeling layers of ill use away from itself filled the air as the chamber door swung open. Grey spun on his heel, ready to greet his expected guests.

"Aha! Welcome Princess! We've been..."

The loud sudden bellow of his troll slave interrupted him as the unmistakable act of release was upon the creature. Grey had never heard Pleasant say a word, in Trollish or anything else, but when the thing reached orgasm it made up for all its many moments of silence. Grey could barely hear the Prince around the Troll's wailing as the Prince's smallish shaft began to quiver and throb, releasing jet after mighty jet of cum across the room, nearly reaching the entering Princess and causing his minion-Prince-doppelganger to step aside or be bathed in his release. The amount was impressive for such small testicles, Grey had to admit, but he knew the Prince had to be feeling like a hose had been turned on in his ass as the Troll continued his bellowing, releasing an almost insurmountable torrent of hot sticky fluid into the poor elven prince. Pleasant's release had actually begun to run down the crack of Prince's ass, coating his testicles, thighs, and backs of his calves in the warm liquid before forming a small white pool around the Prince's feet.

The minion in the Prince's mouth was letting out soft squeaks as well, as it ejaculated its minuscule load down the Prince's throat.

"Not quite the reception I was planning, but...dramatic wouldn't you say? Again, welcome Princess.."

Grey swept a grand bow, letting the silvery flames of his eyes fill with the very real humor of the grin across his lips as he tried to capture the small Nymph's gaze.

It had taken a few more minutes to reach the bottom of the winding staircase. Imryll could feel her heartbeat only getting faster, her nerves growing at what Ahrin had in mind. But no matter how many times she pulled at his hand, or gave him meaningful looks, the prince simply shrugged and continued his descent into the bowels of the palace. Imryll simply guessed he was nervous too; he seemed it, standing straighter than usual, barely looking at her. It only made her fears grow; she started to think ridiculous things, like that now they were married she would go back to being a prisoner, albeit secretly. She bit her lip, almost giggling at herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had to trust Ahrin.

Finally, they reached the doorways to the dungeons. There was a few of them; different rooms for different purposes, Imryll guessed. Walking now with more purpose, Ahrin pulled her to the door at the far right. Older than the others, marred by rust and flaking paint. The others were made of shined wood, but this one had fallen to misuse. She pulled on his hand again - so many questions to ask! But he almost growled now, pulling her roughly to the door, seeming impatient. Blinking in confusion, she meekly followed his will as he fiddled with the locks on the door. It was colder down here; the chill hardening her nipples, making the fine hair on her skin stiffen, and stand on end. She sniffled in self-pity, winding a lock of her long hair around a slender finger as she awaited the opening of the door.

It creaked open, metal shrieking on metal before it finally touched the fine carpets. Ahrin offered his arm, leading her in. Another room; clean, meticulously so; lots of tables and cupboards. Or were they beds? Imryll frowned, before Ahrin left her no time to think more on this. Locking the door behind them once more, he walked confidently now to another door. Pricking her ears; Imryll..could hear something. It was faint, but as they approached the second door, she...no. Maybe not. Wait. Yes! Imryll blinked; it was a muffled sound, but definitely audible now she was closer. A quiet groan or two, the scurrying of..something, but that was only if she strained her ears. And then suddenly, a voice.

"Pleasant! What did I tell....Ahhhh, I knew it!"

Before she knew it, Ahrin had tightened his grip on her, a faint smile now painting his features. Looking around the room again, her confusion growing, she whispered:

"Ah-Ahrin, do you know what that was? What's happening?"

He merely smirked at her, his head tilting. Imryll wondered what he was doing; then she realised his gaze was firmly on her breasts; they swelled through the tulle impressively, her hard nipples all too obvious. She pouted, wanting to drag her arm away from him so she could fold both around her chest. Although they had been a couple for so long, he had never been so..obvious, about his desires for her. It made her uncomfortable. Did he think this was acceptable now? Looking up at him, she could see he had barely noticed her struggling to get his grip off her arm. He licked the inside of his lips subtly, and then snapped his gaze to her. He was grinning, her eyes alight with..lust, definitely, but something else. Frozen inbetween the want to both please him and to run away, Imryll stood still, waiting for him to do something. Perhaps apologise. Or at least stop looking at her up and down, as if pricing her up.

Ahrin then looked away, his hand going to the handle on the second door. The moment gone, Imryll sighed in relief, letting herself relax once more. This ritual talk had gotten her all worked up, she scolded herself. This was her husband, her other half. Then she realised he'd never answered her question.

Before she could open her mouth to question him once more; the door swung open and Ahrin pulled her inside. Looking at him irritably - he had been quite rough in making sure she had entered the room at the same time as he - she prepared to tell him off, some choice insults on her tongue. But there they stayed, for as she began to speak, she was cut off by a loud, brutish bellowing. It almost hurt her ears; and she squealed in fear, cowering from whatever beast was surely hurtling towards them to attack. But no attack came, and Ahrin still stood, relaxed next to her. In fact, he was busy locking the door behind them. Looking up, taking her hands from her face; she then gazed open-mouthed at the scene before her. At first, she took none of it in. Too much going on; sights, sounds and scents all hit her at once and she almost reeled.

The first thing she noticed was the cum. It flew so close to her, splashing on the floor stickily where Ahrin had stood only moments before. There was so much of it, and Imryll wrinkled her nose in disgust; she had never liked open, sexual displays, finding them cheap, unnecessary. Sex should be between two people, she had always said if this discussion was brought up amongst peers; two people, in the bedroom. Privacy was the biggest turn-on.

As she looked up from the pooling cum, she then noticed the Troll. Tall, and wide; she had thought the Elven to be tall, but that compared nothing to the monster that stood too close for her liking. His ugly face was twisted in what she could only guess was pleasure, his hands gripping a body that bent before him. Thick cum was gathering around them too, so much more; she almost cried out at seeing it, leaning back against Ahrin; her eyes wide with fear. Chains. She could see chains; holding the body the Troll gripped in place. It was an Elf, she could tell that much. The typical white hair and skin colour. He was twitching and writhing in his binds; muffled groans representing that his movements were from pleasure, and not pain. Imryll squinted; there was something on the man's face, something she could not quite make out - it was attached so firmly, and as she strained her ears once more, she could almost hear quiet squeals of pleasure coming from that entity as well. At realising this, Imryll really did cry out; but her body was frozen in terror, never having been in a situation anything like this before. It was then that she heard the faint chuckle; and the sadistic, sarcastic words of welcome.

"Not quite the reception I was planning, but...dramatic wouldn't you say? Again, welcome Princess.."

A tall man; was he Elven? No, his skin was a light grey; his hair long and dark. A grin twisted a face that could be handsome, was it not so focused watching her, his eyes scanning her face, her body language. A multitude of expressions crossed her features as she struggled to find the right one to express her, her mouth opening and closing. But Ahrin beside her still seemed so relaxed, a hand enclosing around her wrist. So she swallowed, standing straighter, her head held high. Her gaze flickered back to the Troll and the Elven; the Troll was still inside the Elf, pushing himself in and out slowly, still enjoying what was obviously an intense orgasm. Her lip curled and she forced her gaze back to the strange man, whose amusement only seemed to grow the longer she stayed silent.

"Is..is this the final part of the ritual?" she finally managed to say, her speech a choked whisper. It still sounded loud in the dungeon though, her quiet voice echoing from the corners, as if mocking her. She shrunk away, leaning against Ahrin once again for comfort. He had not said a word since they had arrived, and she was waiting for an explanation. Or at least for him to comfort her. Surely he knew this was something she was not..used to..what was going on..

"Is..is this the final part of the ritual?" , Grey could hear the small blue nymph utter almost imperceptibly. He struggled to hold back a mad torrent of laughter at the naivete of this , Imryll , but hold it back he did. After all, it'd be rude to laugh at a guest, so soon at least.

"You could say it's a culmination of many things, my dear Nymph. Indeed, you could..but final? Oh no, nothing is FINAL here, not at all...it is just the beginning of many endings, with no finality, not...for you...at least. ", Grey was obviously crazy, more accustomed to talking to himself or to his minions, which were actually just extensions of himself, even their separate will's were just unconscious yearnings within his fractured and broken psyche from living so long.

He took a moment to gaze over the young Nymph, enjoying the unique flavor of her blueish-silver skin. In his long years, and travels, he had not spent much time with the Nymphs. They were as alluring as he had hoped. Her hair shimmered with tiny glints of blue and grey in the flickering candle light, almost like his own silvery runic-script covering his flesh.

He eyed Imryll recoiling from the rather erotic scene in front of her, drawing herself up against his Ahrin doppelganger, "I'm sorry my dear Princess, if you're seeking comfort from...that...you may be sorely disappointed", with that the head of the Doppelganger began to melt, the peach flesh of the Ahrin mask running like dripping wax, the face of Grey replacing it underneath.

"No worries though, Ahrin is here with us...indeed, he is probably the most joyful of the many here right now.", he couldn't help but chuckle as his hand brushed the sopping wet and sodden hair off the face and brow of the bent over elf, willing his minion to withdraw itself from the elf prince's lips with an audible *pop!*; the cock shaped appendage attached to the minion almost as big as the minion itself. It then hopped down from its perch, joining its brethren among the shadows of the room. White liquid began to bubble out of the corners of Ahrin's mouth, creating soft trails that flowed down over his chin, pooling at their apex before breaking tension and dripping, creating a soft *pattering* of cum as it greeted the room's hard stone floor. His mouth now free from ntrusion had taken to hanging open and providing a steady supply of low moans and furious, "yes!"'s , and, "more!"'s.

Pleasant hadn't relented a bit on the elven prince, and the soft sounds of skin on skin permeated the small room. After all, the Troll had only released half its heavy pent up load, and after having him save for so many weeks, the Troll desperately needed to open the dam. In between strokes the Troll had begun to unlock the iron collar, loosing the elf's neck from its imprisonment. Pleasant took advantage of Ahrin's new freedom of motion by raising the Prince's upper body, giving him a new angle to work his large cock into the tight male elf's backside, his heavy full balls slapping noisily against the back of the Prince's with every stroke. The new angle also gave the Nymph ample view of how big the thing was working itself into her husband, and how much he was enjoying its attentions as the Prince's small penis continued to bounce and quiver with every stroke, hard as granite.

It had taken Grey a millennia to orchestrate the open war between the Elves and the Nymphs, and these two had put an end to it. For centuries they had teetered on the edge, raiding parties and skirmishes being the most common form of aggression. Meticulously he had guided their nation’s fates by instigating superstition and fanning the flames of racism and prejudice. It had been glorious, and it had lasted yet another millennia. Their all-out war providing the chaos and senseless destruction he needed to hide his true intentions. Hell, they had even forgotten the exact reasons for their war. The decree’s had all been destroyed and their personal histories brutalized by the constant invasions into each other’s territories. They were actually destroying each other’s cultures and pasts, bringing themselves to levels of regression and ignorance only dreamt about.

Which is what Grey had intended, and needed.

None of that actually mattered at this particular moment though. His plans for these two were going swimmingly.

Grey let his consciousness fracture, splintering into a thousand pieces as he controlled his inky black horde directly, bringing them out of the shadows and around the feet of the Nymph, pooling together to form a shadowy sea around her slender feet. Tiny tendrils began to shoot out of the darkness, reaching up and under Imryll’s white tulle robe and sheer night gown, snaking around Imryll’s lithe body beneath her lack of clothing. The tendrils found their way around almost every inch of her petite body, curling around the firm globes of her breasts and threading themselves along and between her thighs and over the sensitive flesh of her sex. The tendrils around her breasts wound themselves in hypnotic circles, the fat tips curling tightly around the Nymphs areolic-apices, squeezing and fondling her hard-from-the-cold-air buds. The black snake-like-thing between her thighs began to saw itself against her, rubbing and wiggling against her sex, parting her virginal soft silky lips along its girth.

Grey’s hands were massaging his brow as he continued to manipulate the hundreds of servants individually. He could feel every sensation, the soft flesh of the Nymph’s body, the rigid and hard nipples of her breasts, the warm heat emanating from her sex. It was always hard for him to retain his faculties at first, but he enjoyed the rush; the temptation to lose control and let his many fabricated personalities take control of his body and powers.

He dropped his left hand from his temple, flicking his wrist in a quick motion, letting an inky globule drop from his coat’s sleeve and fill his hand. The little black blob looked at him, and then at Imryll, then began to rotate in a small circle, elongating and becoming thin and taut. It had formed a black half circle, like a crescent. Grey flicked his wrist again, launching the tiny half circle the Nymph, the sentient form expertly guided itself around her neck, quickly growing and sprouting the other half of its circle , completing the form of a tiny collar.
“Now Princess…are you ready for your wedding night?”

"You could say it's a culmination of many things, my dear Nymph. Indeed, you could..but final? Oh no, nothing is FINAL here, not at all...it is just the beginning of many endings, with no finality, not...for you...at least.."

Imryll frowned in confusion; this man..whatever he was..was clearly insane. Looking around the room, she wondered who wasn't insane here. Was this a nightmare? An illusion, created to see what she could withstand? But everything felt too real for an illusion. The smell of sweat, cum and sex was over-powering, and to Imryll, it seemed so heavy it would penetrate her clothes, her skin. Even if she left this room, she would carry this scent with her; of that she was sure. How she wished right now she was not in this delicate tulle; was this all planned? Her thoughts sprinted along this conclusion - was this a punishment, for her being Nymph? Were the Elven just wanting to humiliate their race even further? Imryll gasped aloud at this, her eyes widening. What if...but..stumbling back, she clung to Ahrin desperately, but for some reason, she could not drag her eyes away from the mysterious man who seemed to take so much pleasure from her predicament; and the scene of the Troll and the Elven. It was simply too much to take in at once, and so she stayed close to the only thing that remained familiar in the room.

"I'm sorry my dear Princess, if you're seeking comfort from...that...you may be sorely disappointed.."

Imryll's gaze snapped up to Ahrin's face, seeking an explanation. It was then that his skin started to bubble, and then slowly slide off; the consistency of the strange liquid reminding Imryll of tree sap. After a few moments, the smirking, grey face of the other man was revealed. This close, Imryll could see that half of the face - at least, half of this man's face - was covered in shining, silver script; script she did not recognise, never mind read. Then she realised what had just happened, and she released her grip on the..whatever it was, stepping back with a girlish squeal.

"No worries though, Ahrin is here with us...indeed, he is probably the most joyful of the many here right now."

With the dramatic movements of a stage performer; the man before her stepped forward, wiping the hair from the head of the Elven that was bent before the Troll; the shadowy entity releasing itself from his face. Imryll cried out again when she realised why the entity had been there. A phallus as big as its body was obvious when it skipped away; a thick, white liquid dripping out of the corners of the Elven's lips. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. Something forced her eyes to keep staring at the unfolding scene before her; and it was then she recognised her husband.

"AHRIN!" she screamed, bile rising in her throat. She wanted to step closer, but her body was frozen as her mind rushed to comprehend her situation. Her Elven love did not even seem to hear her; he was quietly mumbling something she couldn't quite catch, but his cock was hard, still dripping from his earlier ejaculation. Although chained, he seemed not to struggle, his face relaxed with occasional spasms of pleasure. He did not look up at her voice, or even seem to take any notice of anything around him. Sweat gave his body a greasy sheen, his hair staying smoothed back on his head. Imryll opened her mouth to try and communicate with him again, but all that came out was a croak, her throat dry with fear.

It was then the Troll either became bored of his current position, or just wanted to show how dominated the Elven had become. With a small grunt, he released the Elven from his neck chains; holding up his upper body. With this, Imryll could see the..oh. She closed her eyes slowly, but the image was imprinted on every thought. Inside Ahrin was the Troll's huge cock; as thick as her two wrists together; and although she could not see the length, she imagined it to be just as intimidating. It pumped in and out of Ahrin's stretched hole, going slower than he had been when she had first arrived, as if now building up to a second finish. The wet sound of the sweat-drenched bodies hitting against each other as the Troll fucked her husband filled the dungeon, and Imryll let out a small moan of fear, her shoulders now quivering. She dared not open her eyes; her short time here already giving her nightmares enough fuel to last a lifetime.

It was naive of her to think that she would be left out of the 'fun' for much longer. At first it was simply a small tickling, smooth sensation on her legs; and then it increased in a matter of seconds to become a cool covering on her flesh, the sensation reaching under her clothing. Imryll's eyes quickly opened, and she screamed as she saw herself being attacked by a small army of the shadowy, black entities that had spaced themselves out around the dungeon before. She feared to touch them, not knowing what they were; remembering what one had been doing to Ahrin, she shuddered and her stomach turned. A long tendril of them was stroking her smooth, uncovered pussy; the untouched lips being separated gleefully as their brethren snaked themselves up to her breasts, exploring her body at their will. Shuddering and close to tears, Imryll backed up against the wall in a helpless attempt to get away from the fiends; and to her distress, she felt a small quiver of pleasure spike through her as the tendril between her legs continued to stroke, to feel her. The entities around her breasts continued to move across her nipples, flickering across them in licking movements. Squirming, she let out little gasps and sniffles of fear; tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"Please..get them off me.." she managed to say, her eyes large and pleading, looking at the man standing arrogantly in front of her. He was still smirking, and he flicked his wrist, sending something at her in a blur her eyes didn't catch. Within moments, her throat was captured - Imryll let out a pathetic whimper as she realised it was in the shape of a collar, like the chains her husband had recently just worn.

“Now Princess…are you ready for your wedding night?”

Imryll cried out at this, his open mockery of her wedding hitting a nerve. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the feeling of her body being violated, the feeling of captivity from the binds around her neck.

"I said..please! Stop this! Why are you doing this? Who are you? What is happening?!"

All of her questions spilled out at once; and a small tear trickled down her cheek in desperation. The tendril slid between her pussy lips again and she shuddered, in half disgust, and half pleasure. Her knees quivered and she fell against the wall, finding it hard to keep standing as the black horde teased and explored parts of her that had never even been touched, never mind stimulated, by another before. She bit her lip to stop further noises escaping her, a feeling of stubborn pride kicking in finally above her fear.

“Awwww…a moving plea, no doubt…and such pertinent questions under such circumstance! Bravo!”

A discordant string of notes began to flow and echo off the walls of the tiny mostly stone chamber. An ebony violin had appeared in Grey’s left hand, the end of its body tucked under his chin as he methodically sawed the ribbon across the strings, producing a terrible racket that only had the faintest semblance of a dramatic and gloomy melody. Despite his grand display of at least appearing to know how to play the instrument, Grey hadn’t the foggiest idea of how to produce the sounds he desired. That didn’t stop him from trying though, as he felt the noisy thing was the perfect tool for mocking a person finding themselves in an unfortunate situation. And indeed, this was the perfect case.

Grey clicked his tongue in an almost sympathetic, but ultimately patronizing manner as he glided across the floor to the cornered and panicky Nymph.

“I know, it is tragic to find that your beloved enjoys….cock….but at least you have something in common now, hmmm? Look at the bright side!.. I always say…..”

Grey had barely finished his last word as the elf prince began to gasp loudly, his breaths coming in quick shallow succession. A tinge of crimson began to spread along his cheeks and chest, staining his peachy skin in an evident aroused blush, signaling his near completion. It only took moments from beginning to end as once again his small penis began to quiver and throb, letting loose quite a bit less than he had previously…..after all, it had not been very long since his last release.

“…and it looks like He’s happy”

The candles were definitely not accomplishing much against the near overwhelming scent of sex permeating the air; especially after the Prince’s recent addition. He would have to bring more, next time.

Another set of offensive inharmonious chords assailed the ears, finally annoying Grey himself with his own lack of ability. He raised his chin, letting the body of the violin swing free. He used the wrist of his left hand that was still attached to its neck to pivot it in a fluid motion on its way to smash into the stone wall. The violin splintered into a million pieces, each faux wooden shard turning back into a fleeing and wailing minion.

Grey was never consciously aware of his mood changes, they just seemed to wash over him in an irrepressible wave. His eyes would begin to take on a thinned and calculating façade, and his facial muscles would stop working in such an animated way, reducing his emotive qualities, causing him to develop an almost flat affect. His thinking was definitely less humorous and chaotic, and he seemed to discover motives for his actions that were like cleverly hidden secrets, so well stowed away that even he had forgotten them and had come back upon them again quite unexpectedly.

Grey took in the cowering and frightened young Nymph, assessing her qualities. Her pert young breasts heaved with every deep scared breath she took, embellishing their size with each deep intake of air. He let his mind absorb the sensations from his consorts wrapped so snugly around her luscious chest. They were pleasantly warm, and her flesh was exquisitely soft. The hard buds of her nipples had seemed to have become engorged from more than just the cold now. He used this to indulge his whim as he concentrated further, taking full control of the tendril. A sucker began to take form along the tip, and from within that sucker a thousand thousand tiny, almost inscrutable tongues began to form. The sucker took one last pass over her hard left nipple, flicking it playfully before latching tightly around it, almost encompassing the whole of her areola within its inky domain. The circular ridge of the sucker immediately began to pull and drag at the sensitive flesh of her breast, forcing the blood underneath to be drawn further into her mammary, causing her tiny nipple to throb with almost torturous stiffness as her sanguine essence fought and struggled to fill the tip of her breast with even more of itself. Only when her tiny bud was quivering did he allow the tiny tongues along the underside of the sucker to begin delicately administering its attention along her engorged nipple. They assaulted her in non-rhythmic waves, keeping her body from anticipating which area of, and from which direction, her aroused flesh was going to become assailed next. Small beads of moisture began to form at the tongues base, dripping down to grace and sooth Imryll’s receptive tenderness, coating her nipple in a warm wetness almost akin to the inside of a mouth….which Grey knew she had most likely never had felt before.


With great regret Grey let his connection with his significant other’s fade as he brought his silvery orbs to bare, peering into the depths of her almond pools. His right hand he brought under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. The important part of the evening had arrived.

“You are mine, my dear….Who I am, and the why’s….to you….simply do not matter. It is enough for you to know that I am your Master, from this day, and until your last, you will obey me. Perhaps if you serve me well…you may discover the roots of the grand Tree of Mystery…but not tonight. This eve, on your wedding night, you will show your Husband, and your Master, what a good little Nymph slut you can be….and maybe between His frequent peaks of rapturous joy He will see what you’ve become, as you see what He’s become.”

The doppelganger had until this moment been watching the exchange passively, its arms folded over its chest with a smirk cutting across its lips. Its head was the spitting image of Greys, aside from the remnants of peachy skin still clinging near the base of its neck. As Grey ended his speech it began to move, cornering the Nymph from her right, as Grey was on her left, boxing her in. The musk from the Troll was nearly intoxicating, arousing even it as the front of his fine silken pants began to bulge and strain from the rapidly swelling organ inside. The doppelganger was under Grey’s absolute control, though it did have some modicum of free will, and it had chosen this moment to express it and abuse the mutual distraction of both the Nymph and the Grey-elf to casually take the trapped blue-creatures hand and guide it down to the front of his pants, stroking his hardening erection against her small soft palm.

Grey had felt the flickers of life within the usually heathered mind of the doppelganger, and decided to accede to its desires as he had pressing needs of his own to express. He used the rather substantial constraints of the wall behind the Nymph to loom over her, exploiting her trauma-stressed psyche to impose his size and will upon her.

“You will be a good slut for me, won’t you, Princess?”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he kept her head cocked up at him with his right hand under her chin, allowing for an easy path as he dove his lips down over hers, kissing her in what seemed a rather comical embrace given the situation. His left hand crept around along her side, his wrist rolling as his fingers flicked in subtle instruction to the thick tentacles wrapped and coiled around her nether regions. The dutiful accomplices began to hum and writhe, grinding itself roughly against Imryll’s young virginal sex and up between the fleshy cheeks of her ass at the same time that it also began to administer an incessant tremor of vibrations along its entire length.

Grey’s tongue tasted her warm trembling lips, licking at the moisture covering their soft velvety surface. I wonder if she’ll go along….or if…. He almost chuckled against her lips as he flexed his left wrist, feeling the tiny almost invisible chord of shadow still connected to her collar. He could definitely be rough if he needed…..after all, honey wasn’t always what it was all cracked up to be….and challenges were fun.

“I know, it is tragic to find that your beloved enjoys….cock….but at least you have something in common now, hmmm? Look at the bright side!.. I always say…..”

Imryll almost snarled at him, looking back at the limp, gasping body of Ahrin; her chest heaving as she took in deep breaths, trying not to panic further. This situation needed her to think as concisely, as clearly, as she could. This man had the upper hand of strong magic, and minions..thousands of them! Her head spun as she tried to comprehend how strong this individual must be. Why he had targeted Ahrin and herself for this, she could not understand. The only thing she knew was that it could not be the Elven Royals doing. They would never include their son in this kind of humiliation - so if she could get to a Guard, or anyone, it would mean freedom. For both of them. Now, a distraction. Imryll bit her lip, looking around the dungeon as the man spoke on. Nothing too obv-

Her concentration was broken as Ahrin gasped, his head lifting to show his flushed cheeks, his eyes closed in ecstasy. His cock quivered and throbbed as he came again; the cum pooling beneath his body to add to the Troll's sticky mess. Ahrin then whimpered, his body twitching as obvious waves of pleasure took his mind further into whatever corner it had hidden itself in to avoid reality. Imryll felt her insides stir at this; letting out a little, guttural gasp as something tingled inbetween her pussy lips, aided by the sliding tendril still taking advantage of her vulnerability. She had the sudden urge to squeeze her thighs together, as if that would help the sudden urges she had to repress; but she resisted, fearing the entities would be angered, and..well, they were at a sensitive area. Imryll did not understand how they worked, and she hesitated at taking that chance. But..it was so hard to resist..what were they doing to her? Why did her legs now quiver ever-so-slightly, with every subtle movement they made against her breasts, against her pussy? Imryll looked back at her captor, knowing he probably knew. He was still screeching away with a violin; a powerful mage he was, but not a musician by any stretched of the imagination..

As if reading her thoughts, the man suddenly threw the instrument away in a flash of irritation. It smashed with a loud, splintering noise; each part breaking off to turn into yet another entity, squeaking and rushing over each other. Imryll's eyes widened; how many of them were there? At first she had tried to count, but she had soon realised that was a fool's quest. Anything in here could be made up of them; and her captor seemed to conjure them out of mid-air. If he could create things, that was certainly the work of a mage so powerful, another one of his strength had never been recorded. The thought sent a tentacle of fear writhing in Imryll's stomach. What had she and Ahrin got themselves into..they had fought so hard to be together, but this..well, of course, they had never anticipated something like this.

The tendril that had wrapped itself around her left breast seemed to become less lethargic; more focused, encompassing her nipple completely. Within moments, spikes of pleasure ran through her as the sensation of its hold changed; gently arousing her, her nipple hardening even further under the assault. Breathing out headily, she leant her head back against the wall as she wet, licking sensations briefly overrode any thoughts of other emotions she had.

This is..so.. Imryll thought, her mind choking on the new experience, seemingly unaware of how to deal with it. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment; and it was only as she saw her captor approach that the spell was broken; and she shook her head in anger, straightening herself back off the wall. What..what had that been? What spells was this..monster..casting? It was during those thoughts that the man had bent slightly, forcing her head to look up into his eyes. His eyes were so clear, she noted; so beautiful, but so..empty..

"You are mine, my dear….Who I am, and the why’s….to you….simply do not matter. It is enough for you to know that I am your Master, from this day, and until your last, you will obey me. Perhaps if you serve me well…you may discover the roots of the grand Tree of Mystery…but not tonight. This eve, on your wedding night, you will show your Husband, and your Master, what a good little Nymph slut you can be….and maybe between His frequent peaks of rapturous joy He will see what you’ve become, as you see what He’s become."

Imryll almost stopped breathing. What was this madman on about? Tree of Mystery?..and..she did not want to think about the other things he had said, her body jerking against her will in her disgust. His hand was still curled around her chin, and if it wasn't for his..clone next to her, she woul-

Suddenly, his clone moved, taking her hand and bringing it to his crotch. With a curious smile on his features, he stroked her hand up and down, on his warm, throbbing bulge. Imryll whimpered again, shuffling her backside on the floor away from the other captor; snatching her hand away from his grip in her first sign of retaliation. Her mind was slowly overcoming her initial shock of being faced with this; and now her willingness to escape was becoming the singular motive in her mind.

“You will be a good slut for me, won’t you, Princess?”

As if reading her thoughts, her captor grinned down at her; seeming large, intimidating. Shrinking against the wall, she was about to reply when he reached down to press his mouth against hers, his arm reaching around her; trapping her even further. At the same time, the wiggling entities on her body began to hum and vibrate, pressing themselves against her. Squealing and shaking; Imryll pushed against the man desperately; pulses of pleasure running through her from his minions. Her hands smoothed down her body in a final rush of adrenaline-fuelled confidence, trying to remove the tendrils from her breasts, her nipples; from her pussy, although it was starting to relax in acceptance of their coiling vibrations.

"Get them OFF of me!" she finally said, glaring at her captor as she stumbled to her feet. Pushing past his clone, she continued to wipe and slap at the minions as she made her way slowly to the dungeon door. Imryll hated to abandon her husband; but she would return with help. It was the only way, she could not help by staying here! Her gaze fell upon the Troll, which paused her momentarily. If only her husband still did not lie in his grasp, she would try and help him escape with her, but as it was..

*Snap!*

Grey's fingers clicked loudly as Imryll backed away towards the door. The clone and Grey immediately began to wash away into the ground, creating large shadowy pools where their feet once were/ The pools then dispersed into a crowd of little tentacled minions retreating towards the shadowy fringes of the room. At the same time the stuck and stubborn tendrils continued to fight Imryll's attempts to dislodge them, suddenly swelling and bulging in thick pulsing waves as Grey and his clone sunk away into the floor.

The sounds of Imryll's sheer thin clothes stretching and ripping under the strain from the growths echoed off the small room walls. The definite shapes of torsos began to take form as the fabric fell away, finally tearing all the way through. Heads began to sprout from the chests, the heads of Grey and that of his Clone. A cruel smirk split the Clone's face as it stared down at Imryll, only inches away.

"Fancy meeting you again Princess...", the Clone teased.

Grey's and the Clone's warm naked flesh began to press directly up against Imryll's, squashing her hardened nipples and the soft globes of her breasts against the Clone's rigid and toned chest. It seemed that their clothes did not travel with them. As their legs began to drip into creation another long and hard appendage began to make itself known, one from her front, and one from behind. The turgid mushroom shaped tips of Grey's and Clone's cocks began to press directly against the soft silky hot folds of her pussy, and against the tight crinkled star of her ass. Grey could feel the moisture from her virgin sex caress the tip of the Clone's dick as he let their minds link fully.

"Enjoying ourselves more than we let on....are we Princess?"

His and the Clone's feet had finally reached the cold stone floor, forcing his larger frame up, causing his and the Clone's cock to begin pressing directly against, and into her virginal openings. He could feel the lips of her sex begin to part on the wedged tip of the Clone's cock, greeting him with warmth and a slight trickling wetness at the same time as her tight back passage began to tighten up as his foreign invasion.

He let the threat of penetration hang on the air for several tense moments before bending his knees, letting the pressure fade. He and the Clone began to rock their hips in tandem, letting themselves nudge and prod , and rub against her. Letting her feel herself being explored by a man's desire for the first time.

"I don't think you're going anywhere Princess"

His and the Clone's arms had fully encapsulated the fleeing Nymph, securing her between them.