Witchfall

Her juices leaked all over his buried cock, the supple pink lips of her slit gripping his cock harder than her demonic hands around his wrists. Her huge careening melons seemed to have a life of their own, almost forcing Gil's obedience to hold and cherish them. Those glowing, round and soft orbs enslaved his fingers as much as her pussy had enslaved his cock.

He was her puppet, manipulated on strings of ecstasy that would not be cut until the doom of Camelot was sown in her infernal womb.

"Give in to my body, fool!" shrieked the witch turned demoness, her eyes bright with the ocherous red flames of hell. Her vigorous grind had turned into furious thrusts and bounces. Gil felt the beginnings of his inexhaustible endurance at last... become exhaustible. Levina's tits were gigantic and gravity defying, more pouting and ripe than even a witch's bosom had any right to be.

Their addictive softness yielded before Gil's frenzied gropes and squeezes. Her moans rose higher and higher in pitch, her wide and fertile hips rolling with such grace and purpose as to terrify and arouse. The assassin felt her hard nipples dig into his palms, pulsing and hot just like the rest of her.

With the sinuous elegance of a serpent she arched her back, pushing her hefty and full slopes out against his hands. "Embrace me, assassin! Give me your offering!" she wailed, her hot claws raking down his chest as her hips bucked.

Gil stiffened. And then the dam broke. His hips bucked upward and his face swung up like a catapult, straight into the massive chasm of her copious cleavage. Her sweet, round flesh enveloped his face like her love canal enveloped his cock, holding him tight as he spent himself deep in her voluptuous hold. Pulse after violent pulse wracked the assassin's body and he felt the corrupted witch's vaginal muscles suck and squeeze his fluids out with the grip of a merciless titan.

"Yesss!" whispered Levina, her voice soft for once but shaking with unstable and violent lust. "I couldn't have come back into this world without this body and this world couldn't have been damned without your seed!" Her vile words pushed the assassin's cock to jerk and spew even more within her unholy depths, frothing and churning in a mix of pink flesh and his pale offering, all to create the most unhallowed life the world would ever know.

That he was an accomplice in this burned and tore at the assassin's conscience. Though unwilling, the pleasure of her body was not enough to bury the shame of betraying the world.

Gil's boiling spend came to an end at last, the evil witch having wrung out all she could from his masculine rod. His face fell from her opulent and ripe melons, their rounded fullness and perky shape calling to him even as he looked at her from the ground, dazed and withered.

"You're not done yet!" she said through fanged teeth, her bright eyes alight with carnal madness. "You've given me a child, but not a life!" Reddish purple mist seeped from her mouth and snaked into his, instilling in him a lustful fire he thought quenched.

His rod grew more rigid within her sopping, tight tunnel and his desire to sweep his hands across her smooth flanks, juicy heart-shaped posterior and mountainous red and glowing bosom was born anew. "Fuck..." he muttered, never knowing in his life the humiliation of not being able to pull away from a woman.

But this was no mere woman.

And it was also no mere cave. Just as he was about to prepare for his death in raucous pleasure, a new clamor had erupted in the cavern. He turned his head to the side and saw Varneth had just woken up from Levina's brutal blow as Morgana's archers stormed in from the cave's exit.

"The Queen was right! She is reborn! Kill her, men!" said the lead commander, his helmet silvered and ornate with a great violet feather plume denoting seniority. At once the tell tale stretch of pulled strings filled the air and Levina leapt off his cock, stomping forward in front of the troops with pride and defiance.

The pouting peaks of her femininity swayed and jiggled from side to side, so vibrant in hue, so soft in their fullness, already her show prompted one misfire into the sand and another misfire into another archer. Blood arched among their ranks and the commander shouted in frustration. "Release! Now!"

A hail of barbed black quills flew at the corrupted witch. And a hail of barbed black quills stopped in front of the corrupted witch. With her arm outstretched, they floated harmlessly in the air, suspended. The archers gaped in awe, both at the display of sorcery and the woman's outrageous body, some twisting their heads to get a better look at her thin waist or seductive hips, others simply stared forward into her titanic breasts, so dense and round that many dropped their bows in amazement.

"Draw! Draw arrows damn you!" screamed the captain, the only one of the bunch above Levina's charms. He ripped a bow from one of his troop's slack hands and fitted an arrow himself. But it was too late. The arrows in the air had already changed direction. Their direction.

Gil was too much in a daze to warn Varneth not to get up, the Elf still foggy from his knock on the head, unaware of the imminent slaughter not five feet away. A bone chilling whoosh accompanied the barbed haze flung back at those who first unleashed it. In a blink of an eye the whole troop was reduced to a bloody, quivering mass of groaning pincushions.

And Varneth. As soon as the Elf had gotten up he went right back down. Five arrows riddled his back and a few more punctured his legs.

Levina turned back to Gil, now back on his feet, having wrapped the exposed parts of his groin with torn off pieces from his cloak. "Now where were we..." she smiled, her eyes sharp and predatory. The assassin had no weapons... but he did have legs.

Before the witch could rush him, fresh arrows pelted against her back, melting as they hit her skin. "Damnation!" she screamed and spun around in a terrible rage, finding the Queen had dispatched even more archers while armored swordsmen filed in through the flare of violet portals.

Levina charged at them, with flames in her hands and sorcerous screams from her lips. Gil's ears bled but it was not enough to stop him from picking up his fallen Elf comrade and making their way out behind Levina's slaughter of the Queen's men.

"Is it a flesh wound?" croaked Varneth, as blood dribbled from his lips, the din of combat dying out behind them.

Gil glanced at where the arrows hit. "No. More like a punctured lung, ruptured intestine, and perforated heart wound."

***

Gil rose up from his seat as the campfire played images of the duo making their escape from the storm of death and their return into Morgana's tower proper. "From there I killed any who got in our path until we met up with Rovino." The memories played forth more, showing the assassin kill hapless minions one handed as he carried his mortally wounded ally, often using little more than their necklaces or serving trays as weapons.

As ever, one barbarian from the back called out. "How's this real? My father had less than half those arrows in him ten winters ago and died on the spot!"

Gil's head turned like a hawk at the voice, picking out exactly who asked the question. "Is your father an Elf?"

"No..." said the man, uncertainty growing in his voice.

"Could of fooled us! Ain't that right men!?" called another and a whole row of bald heads and burly muscle burst out laughing.

"Well there you are." Gil stepped away from the fire and took a seat in the shadows. "For how the Witch Queen herself died... only the barbarian can tell you that..." he gestured to Braya and the laughter died down as the she-warrior came to the flames.

Wearing nothing but a fur cloak around her back and a chainmail bra and g-string, she struck the assembled warriors as something like one of the legends of Amazonia. Her face was stern, her features strong yet alluring, a far cry from the soft sultry looks of Levina.

Healthy and thick thighs, toned over years of war and slaughter, flexed as she took her seat in silence. The fire light played across her mail covered bosom, the tops of her heavy round flesh exposed enough to command the attention of every man in the room, the envy of every woman.

"After I was pitched out the window, only the daggers I had, sculpted from the horns of the last unicorns, could have stopped my fall," the image in the fire played, showing the barbarian's knives screeching against the hardened black exterior of Morgana's tower, "and only by the strength of my arms and will was I able to ascend."

With each stab forward up the witch's enchanted tower, her long and lush valley of deep cleavage jiggled. The image in the fire, as if sensing the crowd's desires, gave the audience a top down view of her heroic climb. The way her luscious and juicy globes bobbed to her struggle made the barbarians gasp in wonder and admiration in the same manner as if they were given audience to one of their ancestral heroes slaying a dragon.

Just as it seemed her copious breasts might spill out of her top, the high chill winds strewing her hair and exposing the lush swells of her bulbous and sculpted ass cheeks, she swung herself up through a stained glass window. The gathered warriors sighed in relief and disappointment that she made it through while not losing a single article of clothing.

"I had climbed higher than I had fallen, and there I came into the witch's inner sanctum..."

***

She tucked and rolled through the hard glass, shaking chunks of sapphire, ruby and violet out of her ash blonde hair. The window had been a colorful and stylized mural, depicting Morgana's now infamous corruption of the Black Knight. Braya's crash had destroyed Morgana and left the Black Knight behind, ruined and cracked.

Before she had even gotten up to her feet, she heard the Witch Queen's unmistakably sweet and cruel laughter. "Kill her. Kill her now." Braya brought her arms up just in time to counter the first wild blow from a screaming cultist. In one movement she took his throat as easily as a girl might pick a flower and sent his body tumbling down the steps, careening against his equally crazed comrades.

Her eyes widened to the sheer size of the chamber. This was not the vile queen's throne room. The domed ceiling, the massive yawning pit behind Morgana and her tall, midnight guardian... this was the very top of the tower.

There was no time for sight seeing, however. The men coming at her now were Morgana's most fanatical, not distracted by the barbarian woman's statuesque yet curvacious physique. Braya leapt down the steps, each confident stride marking another kill. Some were brained as she unslung her axe from her womanly hip, others were kicked into braziers, their putrid forms smelling of hot tar as the flames had their way.

Sprays of blood graced her thighs and midsection, some even wafted up to her giant, jutting breasts, accenting her canyon of breast flesh in a mist of fine crimson droplets. By the time she got to the bottom of the stony stairs, only three breathed in the colossal chamber: the barbarian, the queen and the knight.

Morgana stood imperious and magnificent, her alabaster skin glowing as if bathed in star light. An amethyst gemmed crown sat atop a head of glossy black locks, framing an oval face containing the most refined features and voluptuous of lips. Around her unblemished neck a silvery demonic pendant plunged into her creamy valley of cleavage, smothered in between the softest mounds of feminine flesh Camelot had ever seen.

"Impressive... eight enter... one makes it. I expected none." purred the witch, her burning violet eyes taking in Braya's sculpted thighs and jutting round ass with a lascivious glint.

"I expected more." intoned Braya, looking at the slashed, torn and charred bodies around her. She stifled a momentary shiver of excitement. Whether it was Morgana's sorcery in the air or the warm rivulet of red tracing down the curve of her plump buttocks, she could not tell.

"Anyone that can fight their way to me is worth more alive, than dead." said Morgana as she put both her hands behind her back. Braya's eyes narrowed and tried to be aware of any new treachery. Though it was hard to look past the queen's gigantic and pouting breasts, held in place with purple trimmed high sheen black silks molded around her cleavage. "Join us."

"I'd rather kill you." Braya turned her head to the Black Knight when a sporadic low rumbling sound crackled from behind his helmet. It sounded like laughter.

"It wasn't a choice." said Morgana, and with a wink of her left eye indigo-violet manacles melted up through the floor, wrapping around Braya's armored wrists and boots, pulling her down to the ground. "Though I was hoping you'd say that." she said with a maniacal grin and brought her hands from behind her back.

Braya's mouth went dry.

Cupped within the Witch Queen's palms, still smoking with the violet vapors of creation, writhed a tenebril, serpentine sowers of sin and corrupters of character. Its phallic head probed the air, sniffing out an aura of virtue to tarnish. For the briefest of moments its head inclined to the Black Knight, whose soul had darkened long ago, but then pointed straight to Braya, sensing riper prey.

Morgana let the thing slither through her fingers like a current of black water, hitting the ground with a sickening plop. Braya screamed and strained against her arcane chains. Her lush and glistening thighs strained, the swells of her ample bosom rustled from side to side and her face was a compound mix of rage and fear.

It couldn't end like this. She was Braya! Greatest she-warrior of the eastern mountain clans! Tears ran down her severe face as the ignoble end of all her trials and tribulations slithered inch by inch to her kneeling form.

Morgana cackled and slipped a ghost white finger down her deep cleavage. The finger traveled underneath her black silks and pulled. At once her robes fluttered off her immaculate form like a tide of midnight. The hard nipples on her massive breasts poked through the flowing fabric until they were bare at last, luscious alabaster mounds that glowed like soft marble in the dim light.

Braya screamed and yanked against her restraints as much as possible, backing away as much as the enchanted chains would allow as the voluptuous witch and her devilish serpent approached. Morgana knelt down before Braya, her giant and round tits filling up the she-warrior's vision.

"Shhh... my sweet and simple pet." Morgana ran her fingers through Braya's ashen blonde hair, pressing her bountiful, pale melons against the barbarian's own staggering pair of golden sun-kissed breasts. "I've had so many pets before..." she cooed, giving Braya a kiss on the forehead and then a drawn out lick on her neck, "the first one was a kind, unknowing girl, not near as rambunctious as you... how I treasured her, until she lost her head..." She sighed as if she had lost her favorite shoe and then gave Braya a kiss on the lips.

The she-warrior's eyes brightened with rage and tried to tear away from Morgana's black satin lips. The suction was too great... the pleasure too deep. A slight lavender mist floated from between their locked lips, the fumes of sex magic seeping into Braya's flesh.

The she-warrior felt strange tickles descend down her neck and onto her breasts, numbing her body for docile acceptance. When the Witch Queen pulled away, Braya spat on the floor. "I will kill you for that!" She then slumped lower, moaning softly as her pussy flushed with arousal.

Morgana tittered, the creamy wonders of her breasts jiggling to her amusement. "Oh how I can't wait to see how you'll change. And what's this?" She looked down. "Our friend has arrived."

Braya looked down to see the tenebril glom onto her thigh, beginning its journey to her womanhood... and her soul. She snarled and lunged forward, taking her strength to its limit as she crushed Morgana against her body in a murderous hug.

The witch gasped in delight and writhed against Braya. "Oooh so strong!" Braya let out an involuntary sigh of excitement as she felt Morgana's ghostly soft flesh slide against her own. She did not diminish her hold, however much pleasure the foul witch brought her. She would snap the woman's back if it was the last she would do, one final act of defiance as herself.

Morgana didn't seem worried. Nor did the Black Knight, who watched on like a silent sentinel built of the darkest stone. The evil witch licked along Braya's neck, moaning as Braya hugged her tighter and tighter. Her pale hands wrapped around the tight, bulbous swells of the she-warrior's muscular ass cheeks and squeezed.

"Squeeze all you like, my pet." She whispered in Braya's ear, sending an erotic chill down her spine. "I'll squeeze, too. I can wait for the inevitable." Braya let out a whimper of desire and frustration as she crushed Morgana but felt nothing but the tenebril sliding along the inner part of her thigh, its head tasting her pink and glistening flower. "Magic has made me beautiful... and strong. What took you years to achieve, I did in a single night of debauchery." Morgana swept her hand up Braya's back and licked her ear. "Just give up... and give in."

Braya trembled and gasped when the slithering creature below finally pierced her pussy, drawing itself in with heavenly slowness. Morgana smiled, feeling the she-warrior's shivers of desire and surprise.

The Witch Queen grinded against Braya's pussy, urging the tenebril in, her smooth and milky ass cheeks clenching as pleasure sparked around her clit. "Yesss... that's it. It's in you now... soon it will be a part of you." Morgana, with one magic touch, undid the myriad links and chains holding up Braya's armored top. The meager chainmail slipped off, revealing the juicy mammoth slopes of her tits, her nipples a dark caramel hue against the rest of her ample, sun bronzed flesh.

Morgana rubbed her colossal breasts against the she-warrior's, cooing in delight when perspiration from the barbarian rubbed onto her soft bosom. Her pillowy mounds were as white as virgin snow and now glistened just the same. Both of the women's generous breastflesh swelled as they pressed together, widening even more as Braya pushed herself to her limits and exerted more pressure.

"My you're a tenacious one, aren't you?" Hope rose in Braya's heart as she saw a bead of sweat roll down Morgana's neck before trapping itself between their stuffed breasts. Whether it was from arousal or strain, she could not tell. "I'll have to make a note to wipe your people out for good next time. I can't have this kind of raw talent out on the loose." She paused. "Maybe I'll have you do it, once this is all over."

Pure hate exploded in Braya's being. "NO!" she bellowed and lurched so far forward the enchanted chains burst while Morgana crumpled against her. Morgana's huge ivory globes swelled out to the new pressure. The tenebril writhed in Braya madly, sensing its mistress in danger. Braya moaned over a snarl of rage as the thing burrowed further up her love canal, craving of the home her womb would make.

"My champion! Your Queen needs you!" screamed Morgana. The Black Knight stood silent, his sword still placed before him. The barely audible sound of cracking vertebrae seeped into the air. The Witch Queen tried to reach for her staff on the ground but it was too far. With a touch of her fingers on Braya's skin she stimulated the tenebril within, eliciting an excited gasp from the barbarian and a weakening of her grip, but it was not enough. "Black Knight! Your lady commands it!"

The Black Knight twitched and slowly moved into action. Braya clenched her teeth, fighting off the pleasure inside, hoping the witch's enchanted bones would break before he threw her off. The she-warrior cried out and spasmed, losing even more strength as the tenebril sent her pussy into contractions, blasting her nerves with frenzied pleasure.