THe Darklord's Slut: Book One

Chapter One: Brynn's spanking

Brynn rode through the forest on the heels of the knight Sir Radley, the cavelion pup warm against his back. He had creamed a leather skin and had hung the tiny beast over his shoulder with a flask of warm wine and milk. He hung his dark green and navy cloak – the colors of his House – to hide it from the knight.

“Faster, squire-slut!” Sir Radley barked, turning his head, crashing his dark brown eyes against Brynn’s pale white blue irises. He cracked his whip back, biting me in my shoulder, covered only in a woolen sweater. I yelped and urged my horse forwards to a gallop, misted trees racing by my side.

When I was next to Sir Radley, our horses but an arms length apart, he reached over and grabbed my crotch, his closed first pressed against my worn saddle. I groaned, my eyes blurring, and Sir Radley growled next to me,

“This is just the beginning, boy.” His dark, curly hair blowing in the wet air.

A knot formed in Brynn’s stomach, and he felt his legs shake.

“How does your arse feel on that saddle, slut?” His uncle Sir Radley sneered. “Does it ache after having that demon cock rammed up it? Bet you wish you could attack a leather dick on that saddle, don’t you, queer?”

My ass was so sore, but each gallop of the horse made his ass ache, reminding him of the amazing fuck in the garden with the monsters.

“Answer me!” Sir Radley slapped be across the face, our horses whinnying.

“It hurts, sir!” I yelped, and my dick hardened in my shorts. My uncle look down and saw my hard cock, his eyes narrowing in disgust and excitement. He grabbed my hard dick and squeezed tight. I screamed.

My uncle spat in my face and then steered his horse forward.

“I hope it hurt!” He yelled to the wind. “It’s nothing less than you deserve!”

We ran for another hour in the cold silence, my dick hard the entire time, until we came to a stop in front of a giant wooden house next to a lake. It was huge, the size of a small castle, called Babel. It had different levels and balconies and dozens of chimneys that spewed warm gray smoke into the cool dawn.

Even in the early hours of morning, moans and screams and slaps and cries could be heard, echoing over the glassy lake; whorehouses never slept.

“Welcome to your first day of hell, squire-slut,” His uncle laughed, jumping off his horse and walking into a barn that could house a hundred horses. A large stonewall circled the brothel, and statues of tied up boys and beautiful women fucked by gods and monsters.

“Welcome to the Whorehouse of Babel,” he intoned, echoing with sick laughter. “I was planning on renting you a little exotic apple of a pussy now… I was thinking one of those slimy mermen you fuck in a tub, or maybe even splurge and rent you that dwarf prince they have tied up in the basement…. but I’ll be paying more and renting something far more sinister.”

I handed my horse to a tall, dark haired stable boy who looked no older than me, maybe even a year or two younger.

“Because you screwed it up!” My uncle was on me suddenly, grabbing me by my neck and throwing me against the wall. “You couldn’t keep your asscheeks closed, your little boyclit was just to hungry! You let a demon fuck you?”

His shoulder pressed into my chest and then he let go of me, letting me fall to the floor. He didn’t let me rest, he was on me a heartbeat later, ripping my pants down, my pale ass shivering in the cold barn.

“You were supposed to stay deflowered until your knighthood. I was going to be the first dick your boypussy ever tasted, under the witness of the king.” He slapped my ass hard, and then slapped it again. “But you’re never going to taste the milk of the King anymore, squire-slut, you’re going to taste the dick of the Darklord himself unless I punish you.”

And then he was on my, his knees pinning the back of my legs, pressing me to the ground, I went up on my hands, but he pushed my face to the ground, pushed me to my elbows. He slapped my ass with an angry fury. He used each hand in turn, beating my butt like an angry war drum, until my cheeks turned bright red, boiling with blood and hot skin.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I moaned, and then he stopped, squeezing my cheeks, massaging my arse. “I’m sorry!” I wailed.

“It’s too late,” He spat, his spit cool on my hot ass.

“Too late.” He intoned.

SMACK!

I screamed. SMACH! SMACK! SMACK!

“Uncle!”’

“I am Sir Radley, boy! I am a knight, and you,” he rubbed my ass. SMACK!SLAP!SMACK! “Are” – SLAP! – “a” – SMACK! – “whore!” SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!SMACK.

The stable boy came back, telling us to save the slapping for inside the brothel, not the barn.

“No,” His uncle said, standing up as Brynn moaned with relief, rubbing his flaming ass. “I’m going inside to talk to my old friend, the Wolverine, you might know him?” The stable boy yelped at the same of his half-giant boss. “My squire’s name is Slut and he is more whore than any of your workers here, only uglier and far less skilled.”

“Y-yes, sir.” The stable boy said nervously, but couldn’t help to smile when he looked at Brynn, his ass red, his tight, pale body muscled but lean.

“If you’re lucky it’ll still be lubed with the seed of an incubus,” his uncle sneered before storming into the brothel.

The boy fell to his knees, bringing his nose to the red ass, feeling the heat waft in the air around his face. He smelled that tight, wet, pink hole; it was intoxicatingly sweet, making his mind roll and his dick ache. Incubus seed. His small dick entered easily, despite the tightness, for it was lubed and stretched easily. The boy fucked with a young fury, and was spewing cum into Brynn’s ass in less than a minute.

Aching, shamed, and stuffed with cum, Brynn pulled up his pants, the cum dripping out of his cheeks, leaving dark, sticky, wet stains. He walked into the tavern, into the wide, wooden entrance way. The walls were covered in paintings of giant orgies, and giants, and halfmen with monstrous, perfect penises. Boys wearing only skimpy gold cloths over their groins walked around with trays of wines, while other were on their knees, blowing patrons while they waiting for more in demand clients.

Sir Radley was across the room, joking with a man who looked about ten feet tall, with giant, hairy shoulders, and two giant sideburns down the side of his face. His fingers were claws and his teeth were giant and sharp. The Wolverine, the owner of the Whorehouse of Babel. His voice was low and throaty when he laughed with Sir Radley.

“Is this your famous squire of sin?” The Wolverine barked.

“This is the little slut here.”

Brynn walked up, his face blushing.

“He’s a cute thing. If you want to leave him, I could keep… he’d make a nice whore in a few years, I think.” He smiled at Brynn, taking in those creamy shoulders, blonde hair, and pale eyes. The boy’s face was freckled with gold and cream, and his jaw was firm. “What do you want for him? Pussy or sword?”

“Sword.” His uncle breathed, and I felt a shiver up my spine.

“We have a nice elf, Lacieus, built like a god. And there’s a darkelf, too, a drow who will slaughter a rabbit while fucking you, using the magic to make you see things, visions and hallucinations and things. He costs extra, though.”

“I want the Beast.”

“The beast?” The Wolverine looked down at Brynn, laughing. “He’ll kill the boy.”

Sir Radley put a pouch full of gold and dropped it on the wooden counter with the satisfying tingle of coins. The Wolverine took the coins, cackling as he counted each piece of gold.

“Room 13,” The Wolverine said. He took Brynn by the collar suddenly, pulling his close. He slid his giant, shovel-sized hands down his back, running through the waist of his pants. He slid one giant index finger into Brynn’s wet ass, making him moan.

“I hope you make it, boy.” The Wolverine warned. “You’re too pretty to die on a horse cock.”

“And I’ll take a pussy.” Sir Radley added, smiling cockily. “What do you suggest?”

“For you?” The Wolverine smiled. “You’ve already tasted my best stock, but there’s this new boy tonight… I don’t know what race he is, some Halfling… they call him the Mutt.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sir Radley said, smiling like a wolf.

Two muscled guards took Brynn into the air, holding his ankles and wrists.

“Wash him,” The Wolverine commanded. “But first let him see the beast.”

The guards walked him upstairs, carrying him from both ends with one hand. His head was crotch level with one of the
guards, and he could his ball sweat beneath his wool jock. The guard carrying his wrists clamped a palm over Brynn’s mouth, and when Brynn started sucking on the guard’s fingers, he received a slap to the face.

“Meet the beast.” They threw him to the ground, where Brynn rolled painfully into a pile of hay. I looked up, hay plastered against my face. I saw the legs of a giant, shaggy horse, with black fur and white feet. My eyesight went up the giant stallion, and I saw it’s huge penis, as big as my arm. And then I looked up more, to the neck, but there was no neck, it was a chest, as black as night. A muscled stomach with more abs than a human had came out of the horse, with huge biceps and a strong jawed head bigger than any human’s.

The centaur reared, roaring in his half-man speak, his hard horse hard and spewing precum.

“You’re mine, bitch.” The centaur whinnied, a drop of cum landing on my lips.