Eagerly Bred by the Beast Man Read online

  Madia smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

  “Indeed,” Cariana sighed, sipping her tea again. “When Ithen first started avoiding the marriage bed, I was quite cross! But I realize, well! If he cannot satisfy me, then I would find someone who could. And so I did. But the trick, Madia, in not take a lover. That’s a mistake too many women in our situation make. It inevitably becomes an issue. There’s jealousy and conflict and a whole hulabaloo.”

  Madia sighed, shaking her head. “What are we to do?”

  “I visit a brothel.”

  “I suppose that…” Madia stopped, her mouth hanging open. “Wh-what!”

  “Just as I said,” Cariana said primly. “Really, it’s worked out for the best, in my opinion. Ithen doesn’t get bothered, and I get the satisfaction he couldn’t provide at the best of times. And it has allowed me to… explore my curiosity.”

  Madia could only stare. Her shock slowly faded, and in its wake, a blush flamed her cheek as Cariana brazenly described her conquests. And, much to her shame, Madia felt the first tingling of hidden desire. The hot ache of denial from the previous night made itself known. “Cariana,” Madia breathed. “I… I could never…”

  “Think of it as a favour, my dear,” Cariana said. “Really, you’ll be giving your husband a gift. Less worry for him, and you’ll be able to appreciate him better without the need that you no doubt ache for. There’s a fine selection at these places. Whether you desire a man, or a woman. Or, perhaps,” her eyes gleamed mischievously, “a monster.”

  Madia gasped. “A monster!”

  “Oh it’s all very hush hush of course,” Cariana said at once. “And the beast is well confined by the owner. But you must admit, Madia, to a glimmer of curiosity. Hm?” she said, her eyes twinkling. “To see if the tales of the beasts are true? All those stories of women taken and mated, sent screaming over the edge in the darker realms, caught in the grasp of the brutish creatures. You surely know more than I do.”

  Madia swallowed thickly. Warmth spread through her, radiating from her core. Again the feeling of her denial last night, her peak and the hard climb down from the edge of orgasm tingled through her. “I… I never…”

  “I’m going tonight,” Cariana said abruptly. “I know a place. Very hard to get into. Extremely hush hush. Why, if anyone knew it existed, there’d certainly be trouble.”

  Madia nodded. She could well imagine. Her own husband would probably burn the place down if he knew such an establishment existed which would dare to use a monster to pleasure its clients.

  And yet…

  Cariana watched Madia’s face, almost feeling sad for how easy it was to read the buxom woman. “Just come with me,” Cariana said gently. “If you don’t want to try any of those within, then you can leave. No one will force you to do anything.”

  Madia hesitated. But the temptation grew in her mind. She worried her lower lip. And again, that soft heat of desire beat through her core. With a sudden motion, she nodded. “A-alright. I… I suppose there’s no harm in… in just looking.”

  Cariana smiled. “That’s the spirit,” she said kindly. “Who knows. You just might like it.”

  The Brothel of the Beast

  Madia stood alone outside the manor. A dark cloak shrouded her body from the night and the low glow of the lantern hung nearby. It had been almost embarrassingly easy to sneak out. Her husband hadn’t come home, a messenger sent from the palace informing her he was busy with some sort of gertling encroachment. Her daughters had gone to bed in good order, and she knew the movements of the servants by heart.

  Yet as she stood in the dark, doubts assailed her like phantoms rising from the night. This was foolish. Brash. Mad! Imagine if she were found out? Imagine what it would do to Arven and the girls. She felt a hot flush of shame, her hands clutched before her, trembling.

  She was a moment from turning around and going back inside when a rattle of wheels reached her ears, and from out of the night, a carriage rolled up.

  It was a curious thing. All black, no emblem or coat of arms. The two horses were silent beasts, the driver shrouded in jackets against the chill. Madia hung back until the door opened, and Cariana’s face peered out.

  She should have turned about, fled back home, for something about the black carriage chilled her to her very soul. Yet, the dark interior tempted her. Beckoned her, and with a quick, fluttering step she eased inside, the door shutting behind her.

  She took a seat, noticing with some unease the interior had no windows. Cariana sat across from her, demure and calm. “To ensure we don’t know where it is,” Cariana said. “As I said, extremely hush hush.”

  Madia nodded nervously as the cart swayed into motion, rattling down the road. It was warm inside, the air faintly spiced with Cariana’s perfume. Madia made an attempt to track their passage, but quickly gave up, consigning herself to the wait and the silence.

  At last, the carriage pulled to a creaking stop. Madia rose quickly along with Cariana. The door opened, the driver shuffling back like an animated pile of rags. Cariana stepped down and Madia followed.

  Outside she found herself before a heavy wooden door. The building that rose before her was one of the more ancient ones which populated Poranovo’s old district. The roof swept low, tiles uneven like jagged teeth. Windows were veiled in crimson and an overgrown garden sprouted from planters flanking the entrance, as if the greenery were trying to devour the old building.

  The dark manor filled Madia with a chill. Yet, her curiosity was stirred as well. Something about the building piqued her interest and, although warily, she willingly followed Cariana to the doors. An ancient brass knocker in the form of a leering demonic face rattled as the door swung aside, admitting the pair to the house.

  Madia had to pause a moment, stunned by the sudden force of the place before her. Lamps in elaborate metal sconces burned, filling the room with a rich, red light. Paintings that made Madia blush filled the walls, framed by elegant gold filigree.

  A woman stood beside the doorway, and not in Madia’s wildest dreams could she have anticipated her. She was slim and willowy, fair haired, and utterly naked. It took a moment for Madia to register that, for the young woman was emblazoned with silver paint from head to toe, her nipples hard and connected by a thin silver chain that pierced the fleshy nubs. She smiled airily at the two.

  “Welcome to the House of Delights,” she breathed sweetly. “Please, come this way.”

  Cariana smirked down at Madia. “I told you.”

  Blushing hotly, Madia nodded, following the nude woman out of the foyer and deeper into the house. Several halls split off from their path, pleasured gasps and moans echoing from doors sealed shut behind silver numbers. Madia eyed these with curiosity, tasting the faint spark of magic in the air. She had been with her husband long enough to be sensitive to spell work, though not the nature of the spells themselves.

  The thought of Arven once more sent a shock of shame through her. But she continued on and into a large sitting room. A fireplace burned merrily behind a hearth like metal ivy twisting up. More paintings of pleasure dotted the walls in here, except…

  Madia blinked, stunned. They weren’t like those in the foyer. These were of woman and men, locked in the embrace of demonic creatures and monsters. In one a woman writhed with ecstasy in the grasp of a hundred tentacles of some sprawling horror. In another, a woman was being taken by a brutal looking orc (much to her delight it would seem), and in a third, a man was locked in the twining embrace of a dryad, the green woman cradling him to her breasts while she rode his cock, his expression one of bliss, hers one of predatory hunger.

  The painted woman stopped and turned, still smiling. She gestured, and from through a door came a number of men and women. The women were much like their willowy guide, paint dotting their skin and transparent silks leaving nothing to the imagination. The men were handsome and broad specimens, and Madia wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t stare at their bulges, pressing against tight loincloths like hammocks of manhood.

  “We would be delighted to serve your needs. Whatever they may be,” the painted woman said sweetly.

  “Hm. Not bad,” Cariana said, her voice the intrigued consideration of the master connoisseur. “But I’ve seen any number of the like in other brothels along the silk district.”

  “Does mistress not desire them?”

  A deep, mellifluous voice spoke up.

  “I believe she does. But perhaps the lovely lady Oravor and Waters are looking for something… special.”

  Madia whirled at the voice. Even Cariana seemed surprised, turning about sharply. For once, Madia’s friend seemed at a loss for words as they took in the man who had stepped from a door neither had noticed.

  He was a broad, powerful specimen, something even Madia could tell beneath his long, dark coat. His face was sharp, eyes powerful. Curls of thick brown hair fell to his shoulders, and his nose was broad and flat. Handsome in a wild, virile way that Madia couldn’t deny. More than a head taller than Madia, his presence seemed to draw the whole room about him, dominating it and all that lay within.

  The painted woman dropped to her knees. “Master,” she breathed, bowing her head submissively. The sight stirred Madia strangely, to see the lovely whore’s submissive eagerness before the potent male. As it did how little attention he paid to the brazen servant.

  Instead, and much to her surprise, he took with a gloved hand Madia’s dainty fingers and raised them to his lips, forced to bend nearly double in order to gently kiss them. “Charmed,” he rumbled, his dark eyes meeting hers, and sending a flush racing up Madia’s neck. “It is a delight to meet the lady Oravor.”

  “You… you know who I am?” Madia stammered.

  “Naturally,” the large man said,
straightening to his full height. “It would be hard to mistake the lovely wife of one of Poravoro’s resident red mages. I find it wise to keep tabs on the noble ladies who occupy our fair city.”

  Madia blushed hotly. Cariana cleared her thought, looking slightly peevish she had been so far ignored. “And, who might you be who knows so much about us?”

  The man pressed his hand against his chest. “Ah, please. You may call me Pavior. The purveyor of this fine establishment. Though I can see it hasn’t impressed you both. But, I think we can resolve that. If you would both follow me…”

  Cariana’s eyes flashed with interest and she immediately stepped after the tall figure. Madia hesitated a moment, yet the draw to Pavior plucked at her chest, and she found herself hurrying after him and in to the dark passage through which he had first emerged.

  There was none of the splendour of the rooms before in here. Cold, dark stone lined the way, a chill of the earth seeping through. “You must forgive my tardiness. Though I knew you would be arriving soon, there are… measures that I must take to ensure my establishment remains under the radar,” Pavior said, his rumbling voice echoing down the tunnel.

  “There are brothels aplenty,” Cariana noted.

  Pavior glanced back, his dark eyes gleaming. “Not like this,” he assured her wryly.

  Madia became aware of a scent. Well, more a stench. It was a thick, watery smell that made her skin feel oily. Like vegetable stew left in the pot for days. She rubbed her arms uneasily as they reached a tall door set in the stone. Beyond, a low sound came. Something near a growl. Pavior touched the handle and eased it open.

  Madia followed him through and stopped abruptly. The room was more a cell, and its prisoner lay in a pit down a small flight of stairs. It was tall and lanky, all sinew and strength, arms and legs jutting out of a bony frame, joints thick and hands tipped with talons. The creature had a mane of thick, wild hair around its head, its teeth sharp and eyes golden like a wolf’s. A chain in the wall manacled a thick neck.

  “Gods,” Madia breathed. “A troll!”

  The heavy creature rose at their presence. It was naked, not even a loincloth hiding its thick, warty cock. Madia knew from her husband’s work that a troll was much like a gertling, possibly a genetic offshoot. Far from common however, for they were solitary creatures, lurking in dark marshes, sometimes even leading wug tribes.

  The troll roared, throwing back its head and pounding its chest with its fists. It shook its wild mane, snarling, grunting. Its thick, musky scent pervaded the room in an animal stink that made Madia breathe shallowly through her nose, though there was something strangely fascinating about that heavy musk.

  “No reason to be alarmed,” Pavior demurred over the rattle and clank of the chain. “Those chains have bound him well. And he isn’t truly threatening us. It’s a troll’s way to attempt to entice a woman to him with a show of his prowess. A crude display, and not very effective.”

  “Oh,” Cariana said, staring in awe at the savage beast. “Is it…”

  “Safe? No. Had he his way, my lady, he would have gutted me and thrown you down, mating you among my entrails until you screamed with pleasure. He would take you until you were broken. Little more than a warm womb for him to spill his seed within and breed again and again.”

  Cariana swallowed, her eyes shining in the dark. “Ah…”

  “But don’t worry,” Pavior said, reaching into his jacket. “You are hardly the first to feel his lusts. And I have means of… calming the creature.”

  Madia noted with interest the bone flute Pavior drew from his jacket. The pale thing was made up of a number of tubes bound together, their surface engraved with curious scrimshaw designs. Pavior put it to his lips and blew.

  The sound washed through the dark room, seeming to seep from the very stones around them. Madia gasped, the sound reedy yet wild and strangely… almost sweet. She listened closely to the subtle notes, sounds she had never heard the like of before wrapped in a soothing tune that seeped through her in a wave, and in its wake spread a low heat that made her heart quicken.

  So fascinated by the song, she didn’t notice the troll had subsided for several minutes. When she at last looked towards the beast, it had ceased its furious howls. It hunched forward on its knuckles, eyes heavy and warm. His warty cock jutted from his groin, hard as steel and as unyielding.

  “Oh…”

  Madia looked towards Cariana as her friend stepped forward. Cariana stared into the troll’s eyes, her lips parted, her cheeks rosy with a flush. With a strange sense of detachment Madia watched her friend shed her fine dark silks, casting them aside onto the stone floor. Soon she was naked, pale curves on full display, head thrown back and dark hair spilling down her shoulders.

  She came nearer the reach of the troll. Into it. With a low growl the monster grasped her, making her gasp. Cariana submitted to the monster’s broad hands, her eyes filled with a hunger Madia had never seen before.

  The troll pressed her down. Cariana went with scarcely a cry, falling to her knees in the mud. She turned about, raising her ass like a bitch in heat, waving her pert rear tantalizingly. Madia’s heart beat faster, her head pounding as the music switched its tempo. The troll growled and leaned over the submitting noblewoman, surrounding her in a grey cage of his rangy form. But Madia could see the thick rod of his shaft press against her friend’s pussy. Heard Cariana’s gasp, cadence in tune to the trill of the pipes.

  With a sudden brutal lust the troll thrust forward. Cariana screamed in joy as his warty cock filled her hot cunt. “Yesssss!” Cariana moaned. “Fuck me monster! Take me!”

  The troll howled and began to hungrily thrust, pounding his bony hips into Cariana’s firm backside. He grabbed her head, forcing it to the side and pressed a brutal, crude kiss to her lips. Cariana submitted eagerly, moaning as she rocked to the thrusts of her monstrous lover.

  “Mmnnnn! Yes! Deeper! Deeper! Oh yes. Deeper monster! Beast! Ah. Ahnnn!”

  Madia watched, horrified, fascinated. Enthralled as the piping of the flute continued, peaking with every thrust, trilling with every cry.

  Slowly, the music began to fade. Madia stirred, blinking as she came back to herself. Mostly. She felt again the stirring of her horror at the sight of the monster, yet now it was tinged with a sinful excitement as she watched her friend be taken by the brutal monster. It was a terrible sight and yet the sheer immediate lewdness of it made her cunt grow hot. She resisted the urge to touch herself, listening to the loud slap of flesh and the howling, bestial cries Cariana was making.

  A heavy hand grasped Madia’s shoulder. She gasped, stiffening like an electric shock had seared through her. She looked up into the dark eyes of Pavior.

  “Shall you wait your turn for the troll’s affection?” he asked.

  Madia looked back to her wailing friend, Cariana’s hair swishing around her, expression as raptly blissful as those of the paintings they’d seen in the parlor. She imagined that massive, warty cock plunging into her body with such unrestrained lust. Madia swallowed at a sudden sense of lingering unease. “I… I don’t think I can…”

  Pavior nodded, his curls swaying. “It is not for all. Come. Let us retire to somewhere more comfortable. I suspect they will be a while.”

  Madia let him lead her away and back out of the dungeon. The last sound she heard was Cariana’s scream of orgasmic bliss, echoing down the dark before Pavior shut the heavy wooden door.

  The Master of the Beasts

  Madia expected to return to the parlor, but instead she found herself taken deeper through the dark stone tunnel. They climbed a set of stairs and Pavior opened a door, admitting her to an ill lit bedroom, the walls littered with the golden filigree and more strange paintings. A tall dresser rose in a corner, and a large, sturdy bed occupying another.

  “Have a seat,” Pavior said, pressing her down into a waiting chair.

  “Thank you,” Madia said, her knees weak after the scene she had just witnessed. As she revisited it in her head the unreality of it occurred to her. The sight of Cariana, her friend, being taken by the monstrous troll again rose to the front of her mind.

  “Some brandy?” Pavior said, already pouring two glasses from a waiting liquor cabinet. Madia glanced over the cabinet, noting the painting of a woman rutting with a ram on a field of green. She felt a blush return and accepted the drink shakily. “Th-thank you.”