You scream out in fury at the harpies’ false hospitality, yelling desperately for them and banging on the stone walls of your prison. No response comes, although you think you hear a distant shrieking laughter. Finally, you slump, exhausted, on the floor, trying not to breath the foul air. You look around, but escape seems impossible. Even if you managed to climb the smooth walls, there’s no way you could lift the rusting iron grate that tops the shaft – it took two harpies to lift it, and you suspect the bird-women are stronger than you.
Feeling miserable and naive, you curl up on one of the least filthy patches of the floor. You are still naked, and can feel what remains of the barbarian’s thick seed still dripping from your pussy. He must have cum an impressive amount for it still to be flowing from your womb despite the amount the queen and the other harpies had guzzled from your snatch. Idly, you begin to play your fingers through your blond pubic hair, still a sticky, tangled mess of drying seed, saliva and your own juices. Comforted by the familiar sensation of pleasuring yourself, you drift back to sleep.
You awake from a pleasant dream about two of the handsomest and most virile young men to find yourself lying, on a hard stone floor, aching from a hard night and your exertions the previous day. Without opening your eyes, your hand again slides between your legs, as you concentrate on the erotic aspects of your dream while trying to avoid thinking about your current situation. Your fingers expertly dance across your slit, in the hope that an orgasm will give you the strength to get through what is to follow.
A harsh laugh makes you open your eyes. One of the harpies perches on the metal grill, gazing down at you through the bars. She laughs again, stroking her triangle of pubic feathers in mocking imitation of you. Angrily you stop, standing and covering your breasts with an arm. She laughs again, pushing taloned fingers into her cunt. You suppress a wince at the idea of those sharp claws in such a delicate place. With her other hand she roughly squeezes her breast, tugging at her nipple.
“You aare – aaah! – most desirrable, blond human. I wish the queen had decided to keep you forr our pleasure.”
A drop of moisture falls through the bars, splashing on the rock at your feet. You are hypnoitised by this harpy frigging herself out of lust for you. From beneath her, you can gaze up between her legs, seeing every details of what she is doing. When another drop falls, you unconsciously catch it on your tongue.
“I would – grraagh! – love the feel of yourr tongue in me. But I will keep myself waarrm with the thought of whaat your buyerr will do to yourr sweet, smooth human body…”
With a shriek like a diving hawk she cums, showering you in a burst of liquid from her loins as she collapses on the bars. After a moment, she stands shakily, and tosses a hunk of meat and a bundle of cloth down through the bars.
“Eaat. Drress. The auction will be soon.”
Before you can muster a reply she leaves. You find the meat is raw, but you’re hungry enough to force it down, trying not to think about what it is from. The cloth turns out to be your dress, but the harpies have altered it from its original drab peasant style, lowering the neckline, raising the hem and cutting away panels in the sides to reveal your pale flesh. You wonder how the village priest – an old pervert who has spent years complaining about the way your bodice hugged your bosom – would react to seeing you now.
After a tense wait, the grating is removed and two harpies lift you out of the pit. You consider struggling, but you doubt you’d have any chance. They lead you along to a large cavern. You are stood on a stage-like rise at one end. Harpies cluster on the walls, and the queen stands on the stage with two guards. But what really catches your eye is what is at the other end of the cave.
A group of crude seats stand beyond the stage, and on them consist of what you assume is the auction’s customers. One is a hugely muscled orc, his dark-green skin clad in armour of black metal. At his side stand two slightly less imposing orcs, clad in less ornate armour. One carries a banner showing the symbol of a black helm. At the warlord’s feet kneel two beautiful women, dressed in plain shifts. One is a human, the other a delicate elf. Both wear collars round their necks, and chains link them to the orc lord’s belt. He grins at you, showing sharp teeth.
Next to him, sits an ugly, hideously fat goblin dressed in gold and jewels. He is surrounded by a dozen guards, all looking around nervously. On his lap is a scared-looking young woman. He has pulled down her dress and was fondling her breast, but he stopped when you entered, looking you up and down with a lustful eye.
To your surprise, a proud elven noble woman sits to one side. Her rich clothes seem out of place at the gathering. The orcs and goblins occasionally glance hungrily at her, but the steely gaze of her bodyguard discourages them. The way he holds the hilt of his undrawn sword is a clear implicit threat, and something about his stance implies great skill with it. The woman smiles coldly as she examines you.
The last customer is the most shocking. It is a huge man, covered in coarse hair and with the head of a bull. Two great horns curl from its head, the ends glinting sharply in the torchlight. It is naked, and his cock is inhumanly massive, putting to shame even the harpies’ barbarian slave. As he sees you it begins to thicken further, growing and rising as blood engorges it. The beast’s hot breath spurts from its nostrils in sharper pants as the harpy queen begins to speak.
“Welcome, bidders. I have a delightful prize available for you today, one who stumbled into our grasp willingly. She is a most delightful slut, such as any man or woman would yearn to use for their pleasure. And yet, for all her wantonness, she is as tight as a maid!”
There’s a burst of eager laughter from the orcs, combined with raucous shrieks from the goblins. The queen continues. “Welcome, Warlord Tsurvurash the Mighty of the Black Steel Orcs. This is a woman to match any you have captured in battle! She will make a fine plaything for you and your warriors. Welcome, King Zakrog the Glorious of the Gimlesh goblins. Will she not be a fine addition to your harem? Another wife to sate your kingly desires, to receive your majestic seed and bear litters of strong children for you. Welcome, Lady Morianara of Eholin. I am sure I am not the only one who thinks eagerly of what you do with those we give you. I wonder what your mind is composing as a use for this beautiful flesh. And welcome Varge the Savage, Varge the Violator. In all your rampages, have you ever taken a woman as fair as this? Think what pleasure you would have from this hot body before you finally broke it.”
She smiles at his eager roars. “But I would not ask you to pledge money when you have not seen the full range of your delights.” She turns to you. “Display yourself.”
You wonder if you should defy her order, an act of proud defiance sure to provoke punishment, or sullenly obey. Or you could obey whole-heartedly, using your natural sexiness to drive the bidders wild with a striptease. This might allow you to appeal to one specific bidder, letting you pick your master, although you’re not sure which of these would be a better owner. It might even cause enough chaos to let you escape… |