Rites of Adulthood

A Side Quest written by J-Cal.

The raiding force had set up camp on the hill overlooking the village, some two hundred meters away, right as the sun had started to set. The raiders could easily have continued down the slopes, even after the long, gruelling march, to attack the village, but the Talon in command of the raiders wanted to let the local human population stew in fear for the night. Then come morning, the assault would commence in earnest. Regardless, a few patrols were dispatched to the other side of the village to dissuade anyone from attempting to flee during the night.

Within one of the many bearskin tents erected atop the gentle hill amidst the moss-covered boulders and lush birches, the newest member of the raiding force, Rangar, had been told early on that every time he used the word “please” or any word like it, the requirements for his prospective reward would increase. At a mere eighteen winters old, he was also the youngest member of the raiding force by far, and having no actual combat experience, the coming attack would be his chance to step into the proper ranks of Kazdruk warriors.

If he managed to please his commander.

The leader of the raiders was the Talon Kayma, a ruthless warrior and a gifted strategist, one tasked with long-term operations deep behind enemy lines, far away from supplies and assistance. Her thirty warriors were all she had, and with them she was expected to spread as much terror and death among Yuldasha’s enemies as she possibly could until circumstance or casualties forced her to return to the Spire to pick up new fighters.

Though mortality rates under Kayma’s command were high, she never had any problems recruiting volunteers, for everyone knew that as long as one fought with glorious brutality and heedless abandon, Kayma rewarded her subordinates well in slaves and spoils.

This was why Rangar had volunteered. In truth he’d had no hope that someone of Kayma’s legendary stature would choose an untested child like him in her infamous band of raiders. But then she had picked him as part of her band. However, right now, alone in the bearskin tent with her, Rangar had started to regret his eagerness to join her.

Kayma had, as soon as they entered the tent after the weeks on end marching from the Spire to their first target, explained to Rangar that, being untested in combat, she hadn’t picked him because she had any particular use for him. She had only picked him because of his youth, and for the entertainment she intended to have with him before the first battle.

That statement alone resonated within Rangar, for as soon as the warband had been formed, he had felt like the other Kazdruk – huge, menacing brutes, all muscle and horns carrying their own weight in sharpened steel – had eyed him with disdain, like he was a babe in need of direction as where to take his shits. But as the days passed, their looks had turned into something else, and they had smiled conspicuously to one another, like they knew something he did not, which gave them endless opportunities to snicker behind his back.

And now he found himself here, inside a dark tent, stripped of his armour and clothing with his wrists and ankles shackled behind a sturdy pole embedded into the ground.

Kayma liked what she was seeing, and had she been completely without restraint, she could have fucked the young would-be warrior to death here and now. His skin was a pale red, so far unadorned by the tribalistic markings so common among Kazdruk fighters, lean and athletic, starting to get proper muscles but still being a far way from getting as huge as male Kazdruk could. Two pointy, short, steel-grey horns sprouted from his skull through his cropped, dark hair. The horns had started to curve in front of his forehead, but like the boy himself, was nowhere close to reaching adulthood. His dark blue eyes regarded her pleadingly, his sharp teeth partially visible as he panted hot breath at her.

He was a full head shorter than Kayma, but he was still growing. When he was a true adult, he would be at least as tall as the commander of the raiders, but Kayma expected he would grow taller still.

Looking up at his commander, Rangar tried clamping his mouth shut so that he didn’t say anything that would add to his task in the coming assault, but the words tended to come by themselves, regardless of his attempts to rein them in.

It didn’t help that Kayma was such a rugged beauty. Tall and lean yet muscular, standing on splayed hoofs unlike himself, Kayma was very much his ideal Kazdruk woman. Undoubtedly feminine of form, but looking powerful enough to break a boulder in half with her bare hands.

Her thick red tresses spilled over her head, pointy ears and backwards arching dark horns down to her shoulders. From there the crimson hair fell back down her broad shoulders and wide, muscular back like a waterfall, until every strand was gathered up in six blue and silver bands starting at the small of her back. The very tip of this compact tail of hair commonly brushed behind her knees when she walked.

Her bronze skin was covered in tattoos of spiralling and jagged designs, starting at her thick neck and all the way down her torso to her thighs. Her bloodred eyes, slit pupils like an adder’s, regarded him with mischievous glee, the prominent canine teeth scraping the bottom of her thick, pink lips as she waited for his young captive to say what he was so desperately trying to keep himself from saying.

Unlike himself who was naked and exposed before his leader, Kayma still wore her battle outfit, though it did little to cover much of her up. Her chestplate was more like a push-up top for her melon-sized tits, attached around her back and around her neck with simple belts. The entirety of her bulging back was completely bare, as though inviting potential enemies to drive their weapons home there. Down past her exposed abdominal muscles, a knee-long skirt of thick and heavy chainmail protected her thighs, but apart from the thin vambraces around her forearms, the raider-commander wore no other protection.

She would argue she wore enough where it mattered, whilst still keeping herself from being encumbered and thus lose speed, which she maintained was the greatest weapon in a raider’s arsenal.

It had been just over an hour since she had stripped and chained Rangar inside the tent, and throughout that time she had never moved from in front of him, never ceasing to do what she was doing. It was really starting to drive the poor boy mad. He was sweating profoundly, shivering and shaking, the chains on his shackles dancing whenever they slacked.

Without really meaning to, his gaze dropped from her grinning face to look at her thumb and forefinger, the former on the most sensitive part of him, the underside of his cockhead, and the latter on the opposite side.

Sliding on her spit and his precum, the two fingers moved up and down, up and down at an excruciatingly slow speed, perhaps three or four times every ten seconds, and those two fingers were all she needed to reduce him to a helpless mess.

His balls were tucked as tightly as they could be against the bottom of his shaft, and he thought he had never been this hard. His veins were popping up everywhere along the shaft, and his entire manhood visibly moved in synch with his heartbeat.

She had explained the game to him when she had restrained him over an hour ago.

“I want you to perform as best as you possibly can come dawn, when we initiate our attack,” she had said as she started rubbing his crotch to make it hard. “We both know you wanted to join me in order to get your virgin cock inside a pretty captive, right?”

How she knew he was a virgin was a mystery, but perhaps it was just all too obvious. He had nodded all the same.

“Well,” Kayma had continued, “the only way I will let a boy like you partake of the spoils after the battle tomorrow on par with the seasoned fighters under my command, is if you kill ten human warriors. And in order to make sure you are properly motivated for the task at hand, knowing what your reward will be, I will edge you mercilessly all night long. I will not let you cum even once. Come dawn I will lock your cock up in a steel cage and set you upon the enemy, and the only way you will be allowed to cum at all whilst in my service is if you kill ten enemy fighters.

“Only then will I let you stick your eager young cock into a captive. Do we have a deal?”

At this point Rangar had already been strainingly erect and under what would be the relentless touch of the commander’s thumb and forefinger. Of course, he could do nothing but agree.

“However,” Kayma then said. “Because I know how little boys get when a gorgeous woman like me tease and deny them for hooooours on end,” she made sure to elongate the word for effect, “every time you plead me to let you cum, the amount of warriors you will have to kill is increased by two.”

Despite having the rules explained to him, and despite himself, he failed time and time again to keep his mouth shut.

“Please…” he moaned, moaning once again when he realized what he had just done.

“That’s twenty,” Kayma grinned. “At this rate there will hardly be any fighters left for the rest of us if you think you’re going to fuck a captive tomorrow.”

She leaned in, adding the fingertips of her other hand to his balls, brushing them as lightly as possible and being rewarded with another sob from her sweating captive quivering under her touch. She whispered sensually in his ear, licking it when she was done talking.

“The other warriors are set on you not getting to cum at all. They will not make this easy for you. They will actively try to keep you from achieving your goal.”

She straightened before him again so that her massive tits were level with his eyes. She made sure to present her cleavage close to him.

“If you think getting ten kills would be a challenge, I wonder what you think about the current twenty. Not to mention how many you will have to slay when I’m done teasing you.”

Rangar groaned. Every nerve ending in his cock were at attention, his balls wanting to jump from being touched by Kayma’s feathery fingertips. He had been close to cumming nearly all the time after she had brought him to the first edge, but Kayma was evidently an expert at what she did. Even though her two insistent fingers never stopped stroking him, every time he approached the point of no return she’d gently slide the fingers farther down, beneath his cockhead, and adjust the pressure from “agonizingly light” to “barely there at all”. Once he had calmed sufficiently down, the fingers slid back up, usually accompanied by another wad of warm spit, and the whole terrible business started over again.

He wanted to cum so bad. He had never imagined he could want to cum this badly. He had to keep from begging. He had to focus on the prize. He could kill twenty humans, he was sure of it, but if the other raiders were going to go out of their way to keep him from completing his goal, it would be hard enough without adding additional numbers to the task.

He had to be strong, had to remember it would all be worth it in the morning. He’d get a young, pretty and preferably busty human captive to fuck to death if he so wanted. The mental image of a girl choking on his dick and the actual image of Kayma’s heaving bosom in his face produced another drop of pre-cum as he approached the edge once more.

Again Kayma slid her fingers away from his cockhead, and his dick jumped and practically screamed in frustration.

“Please let me cum!” he cried, and once again he banged the back of his head against the pole to which he was bound at his continued idiocy. Clearly his begging cock was dictating what he was going to say, even if his life had depended on him not saying it.

“Twenty-two,” Kayma licked her lips.


Rangar supposed the humans must find him an odd spectacle, if they weren’t too busy being driven mad with terror while the Kazdruk force slaughtered their way through the defenders and set themselves upon the actual villagers, like a steel ram’s head at the end of a thick pole bashin down a gate.

He had not slept a wink. Kayma had kept him up in more ways than one through the night, and were it not for his motivation he would have been all too happy to just lie down and give in to his fatigue. But there was no time for that. He had thirty humans to kill, and he had only just hit fifteen when he sliced open the spearman vainly trying to defend his town.

Kayma had been merciful at capping the amount of people he had to kill to thirty, for his virile, young self could not help but plead and beg the Talon throughout the night to let him cum, but naturally, she would have none of it, only laughing while she denied him.

However, Kayma thought thirty kills was near-impossible as it was, and figured her young recruit would have trouble trying hard enough if he knew there was just no way he’d be able to hit his mark in order to claim his reward. So she had decided on thirty; it was close to undoable, but not such that the young buck wouldn’t give it his all to make it.

And from the looks of things, as Kayma scythed down a crossbowman from hip to hip with her cumbersome, two-handed axe, it seemed like Rangar was going to fulfil her requirement or die trying.

Sprinting naked through the open field, sweat matting his hair and letting his skin glisten in the rays of dawn, he darted from one human defender to the next, an axe in each hand, heedless of how he exposed himself to attack from every angle in his desperate gambit to kill thirty humans before there weren’t any left to kill.

And he was exposed in more ways than one, Kayma delighted with a wicked grin. The only thing the young Kazdruk was clad in was a straight steel tube slid over his erection, attached to a ring around his cock and balls. With it he had no chance to alleviate himself, and Kayma had been adamant that the only way the tube was ever going to come off was if he killed thirty warriors.

The other, experienced fighters under Kayma’s command, taking endless enjoyment of the young one’s predicament, were not going to make it easy for him. More than once they had shown up to cut down Rangar’s next indented mark, laughing in his face as they did it, all too happy if the newcomer didn’t get to partake of the spoils.

This had prompted a response from Rangar that Kayma had not expected, but which she would allow, on the basis of the sheer, delicious brutality.

When another hulking brute of a Kazdruk clad in leathers and chain mail came to decapitate a cowering human already failing to find his courage in front of the lesser Kazdruk about to run him down, Rangar spun around, and, with precision and momentum that belied his desire to stick his cock into something, opened the older Kazdruk’s gullet, leaving him clutching at his ruined throat as he bled out on the grass.

Even Luzella, Kayma’s fellow Talon and “friendly rival”, would be proud of the young one.

Rangar was seeing red in a world of blood. Driven not by the teachings of Kazdruk warfare – which had been dubbed by elven officers as “the art of smashing into things really, really hard” – but instead by his insisting hard-on rubbing painfully against the smooth steel of the tube cutting his cock off from the rest of the world, he swung his axes in both hands, taking down humans in droves and slicing open two more of his so-called compatriots come to hinder him.





One more kill. He only needed to find one more human warrior to slay and he would get a captive to fuck. Trouble was, the fighting was dying down. The humans marshalled to meet the Kazdruk charge were dead or dying, the villagers – mostly women and children – cowering in their houses, awaiting the inevitable as they sobbed and wailed.

But there was one, Rangar saw. A man running away from the fighting, sword and shield still in hand. He’d seen all of his friends murdered and had lost his mettle, fleeing for his life, leaving those he was supposed to protect to fend for themselves.

Rangar was not going to let him get away. His thighs flexing, momentarily hard as steel, he bolted after the coward.

But so was another of Kayma’s fighters, and his legs were longer than Rangar’s.

The other Kazdruk was gaining on the human far quicker than Rangar was. In a flash, he saw his chance at getting his hard-earned reward slip through his fingers. He saw months, perhaps years, of service under Kayma with no chance of getting the cock-cage off, with promises of nothing more than a hundred lashes after every battle if she felt he was not trying hard enough just because there were no spoils in it for him.

Acting on sheer desperation when he saw the other Kazdruk’s axe-arm raise over his horned head when he was mere steps away from the human, Rangar heaved one of his axes through the air.

The Kazdruk fell on his face, dead, the twirling axe miraculously striking the back of his skull.

The human was oblivious to the fact that he had just been granted a few more seconds to live, and was equally unaware of Rangar closing the distance.



Whimpering and shivering, the captives of the village were lined up on their knees in front of their burning village, hands bound behind their back, suffering all sorts of glares from their captors. Forty-eight women, thirty-two children and seventeen men. The rest of the villagers were unceremoniously put to death, being too old or otherwise having no practical value to the empire Yuldasha was building on the ashes of her enemies’ civilizations. The children would be gathered up and sent to special Kazdruk “reform schools” where they would unlearn their human values, and learn all about a lifetime of servitude to their betters.

The women, on the other hand, those young enough anyway, would get intimately acquainted with their conquerors.

And ever a woman of her word – feeling even a bit of pride for the newcomer in her flock despite the friendly casualties he had caused – Kayma walked down the line of weeping captives with a hand on Rangar’s shoulder, letting him, as promised, have first pick of the plunder for his rather spectacular achievement in his first real fight.

Rangar felt much like how he imagined higher-ranking Kazdruk would feel when they walked through the endless rows of cells in the Spire, looking for someone with which to entertain themselves for whenever long they wished. While he knew it was overly ambitious, he wanted to some day become a Talon like Kayma or the mythical Luzella, if nothing else only for the privilege of having most any slave at any time.

Nevertheless, right now, though the pulsing of his cock demanded he simply pick any girl and empty his balls in her, he did not intend to squander his current privilege of having first pick.

Walking down the line of captives proved a crushing test of his restraint, however. The previous night was still fresh in his mind, how Kayma had pitilessly edged his cock to orgasm all the way until dawn like she had promised, making him forfeit all sense of male pride if that only meant he could get off. He’d never in his young life imagined he could become such a slave to his cock, to crave orgasm over the desire to live, but his Talon had schooled him well.

If he was ever given the chance to fuck Kayma, he’d take it, even if it meant losing his life afterwards.

“See anyone you like?” Kayma purred, her own eyes having selected multiple prime choices to take back to her tent. She mostly desired male slaves, but there was no denying the females were making convincing arguments as well.

“Far too many,” he said as they closed on the end of the queue.

“Mmm, I know that feeling,” the Talon purred. “But you must make your choice. The others are getting impatient.”

Rangar saw them, standing all around, keeping the captives shepherded in, eying him, waiting for him to make his choice so their rewards could be claimed. After Kayma, of course. But it struck Rangar as strange that none of his compatriots seemed to look down on him for killing his own kind. If anything, they appeared utterly ambivalent about the fact.

Perhaps they too were mostly concerned about relieving themselves inside the captives.

Coming up to the final captive, having seen them all, Rangar rounded on one heel and marched back up, leaving Kayma behind. Turned out the one he had seen close to the middle of the line-up was the prettiest of the bunch, and she would be his.

“Her,” he said, pointing at his chosen one.

Kayma came strolling leisurely over to him with her hands behind her back, looming over the kneeling slaves. Seeing Rangar’s choice, she could not say she was surprised. Besides, her new warrior had definitely deserved her.

“Good choice,” she murmured, feeling a brief pang of envy. It passed quickly.

She could scarcely be much more than eighteen winters old, with strawberry blonde hair cascading down between her shoulder blades. The damp, green eyes – set in a face so smooth it looked like chiselled marble – had been looking away, but where now starring up at Rangar, wide with fear that he had singled her out for whatever reason. She sweated all over her fair skin, and the simple white farm girl’s dress covering her from neck to ankles was torn and mucked up from being dragged kicking and screaming from her house. Around her neck was a slender silver necklace with a thin golden disc hanging from it, the disc crowning the girl’s breasts, the dress incapable of disguising their largeness.

“No!” came a desperate cry from somewhere in the line. A man, perhaps a couple of winters older than the girl Rangar had selected, shot up, his hands bound behind his back, making his run towards them slightly awkward.

Kayma seized the boy by his throat when he tried to rush past her, cutting his breath short as she lifted him up before her, his feet kicking uselessly beneath him.

“Now where do you think you are going to, hmm?”

He was tall, for a human his age, with matt brown hair cut short, a handsomely young face and what was clearly a fit, worker’s body under his simple shirt, tunic and pants. His green eyes weathered the Talon’s next question.

“Who is this girl to you?”

The man wheezed, his face going blue. Letting go of his throat, the boy dropped to the ground like a sack of wine. Kicking him once to make him roll over onto his back, Kayma placed one hoof atop his chest and gave it just enough of her weight to make him realize she was not in the mood to be disobeyed.

“Who is this girl,” she pointed to the one kneeling in front of Rangar, her new owner, “to you, boy?”

Forcing his breathing back under control, feeling the hard hoof pressing painfully against his ribcage, the boy eventually said the dumbest thing he could have.

The truth.

“She’s my sister,” he coughed.

Both Kayma’s eyes and her grin widened. “Really, now.”

She turned to address the rest of her raiders. “This one is mine, that one is Rangar’s. Now have your picks and let’s get this day started properly.”

The Kazdruk’s roar of approval made the wails of fear louder still.


Kayma and Rangar took their respective captives and distanced themselves from the orgy of rape that was just starting to take place in the dirt roads between the ruined, burning structures. Walking around some of the houses that weren’t on fire, merely smashed to pieces, the leader and her newest raider were screened from the rest of the warriors. The Talon kicked her male slave in the back of the knee, dropping him. Following his leader’s initiative, Rangar threw his slave to the grass, looking expectantly at the weeping girl, his mind filling with visions of what he’d do to her.

“Come here, my promising new minion,” Kayma cooed, waving a finger sensually to beckon Rangar closer.

He did as instructed, standing before his Talon, the steel tube pointing straight up at her, his pleading manhood within making it jump with every pulse.

He swallowed with anticipation when Kayma reached into her cleavage and retrieved a body-heated, simple key. “You’ve earned your reward and then some,” she said, taking a knee before her eager, young stallion. She put the key in the contraption that locked the tube to the tight ring around his cock and balls.

With a faint click, the lock was undone, and Kayma pulled the tube and ring off Rangar to once more present her with his twitching, veiny and bulging cock. Blue balls and red tip, the latter drooling pre-cum, told the Talon that Rangar remembered well their last night together.

She couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same to him in the future, even though he was now a full-fledged member of her raiding force.

Once more she had to fight the urge to push him onto his back and ride him into the sunset. Besides, she was ready for something that tasted more like human.

“Now, little one, go claim your prize while me and her brother watch. And be sure to make it good, I want to be absolutely overflowing by the time I jump this human cock.”

About to finally lose his virginity with the gorgeous, crying human girl, Rangar walked over to her. Knowing what was coming, the girl desperately tried to crawl away, begging him all the while to stay back and praying to her silly god to spare her.

Catching up to her in two strides, Rangar kneeled on top of her and forced her onto her back. Grabbing her dress at the neckline, he tore it open, his powerful muscles ripping the garment clean off her in two pieces.

“Leave her alone!” the brother screamed, hearing his sister’s horrified shrieking. The only response to his outcry was a hand painfully seizing his hair, and a quick yank that forced him to look up at his captor.

“Be silent, little boy,” Kayma purred sensually. “Your sister is going to be raped repeatedly no matter what you say. Whatever you say will only make it worse for yourself. Now let’s be quiet and enjoy what my young one will do to your sister.”

Swallowing, mind scrambling, the brother was unable to say or do anything. Horrified, he listened to his sister’s fearful wails.

Rangar tossed aside the shredded remains of the girl’s dress and seized her tits with both hands. Letting out a lustful growl, he took in the sensation of the warm, soft yet full womanflesh in his hands, kneading them roughly, feeling the nipples rub against his palms. He supposed it was involuntary that he felt them harden under the brushing of his skin, but he could use that to taunt her that she was in fact turned on by being violated.

He hardly believed he had been successful in dispatching thirty human warriors, and was now face to face with what he had promised. The joy of battle, the delight of killing and the intoxicating, metallic scent of blood he had so often heard experienced warriors speak of had completely eluded him throughout the entirety of his first bout with an actual enemy. He had, he knew, acted with no regard for his own safety as he rushed the field, from one human to the next in order to slice down as many as possible as quickly as possible.

The realization hit him like an armoured gauntlet to the back of his head. More than once, he now understood, he had come close to having his own head removed from his shoulders during the fighting. Mostly blind luck had saved him instead of them, but seeing the girl between his legs as he felt up her breasts, seeing the terrified expression on her face, seeing the streaks of tears run down her cheeks, made it all worthwhile.

He had gambled with his life, but he had won.

For a moment he contemplated asking the girl her name, but then realized he didn’t care. From this day on, her whole existence would be about pleasing the straining cock hovering over her. She didn’t need a name in order to do that. For all intents and purposes, her name was “cock-slave”.

He knew she could read his intent in his dark blue eyes. She just didn’t know that once he was done with her, he’d drag her back to camp where she would spend her days divided between having her holes filled and being shackled up, waiting to have her holes filled up even more.

This was the Kazdruk way. They dispatched armed resistance in Yuldasha’s name, and then they taught the survivors their new place under the new rule. The girl under Rangar wouldn’t be his only slave, but she was already special, for she was his first.

Another throb of his cock reminded him of the torture he had suffered to get here, with his choice of slave. His manhood would not be denied a second longer, and he had no intention of making it.

He grabbed the girl as she screamed and flipped her over. Then he spread her legs with his knees and settled on them between her flailing limbs. Grabbing those perfect ass-cheeks, pulling them apart, he found the sobbing young girl’s two holes looking back at him, and his virgin mind had trouble making a decision.

In the end, he supposed there was only one real choice for his first time. Grabbing his vein-straining member at the base, he lowered hips pelvis and aligned the dripping tip with the girl’s pussy.

“No! Please! Don’t!” she cried, thrashing uselessly, the rope cutting painfully into her wrists. In front of her, her brother was looking away, too horrified to see, but her voice cut into his chest as sure as any dagger.

The huge female invader, on the other hand, looked positively on the edge of orgasm by what she saw and heard.

Without further ado, Rangar stuck his cock into his slave’s pussy, sinking it all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion.

As he groaned with the unimagined pleasure of the warm, wet hole enveloping his hard-as-steel rod embedded inside her, the girl let out a scream of pain at the violent intrusion.

Rangar could feel every nerve in his body standing on edge, his balls pulling up against his shaft, nearly quivering with anticipation. The muscles inside the girl felt like they were massaging him from tip to base all on their own, the girl’s juices coating him, making him feel even better.

He had been told sex was nothing like getting off with his own hand, and he’d been dying to experience it for himself. Here he was, just one thrust past his virginity, and he had already deduced everything he had heard had been selling the experience short.

Pulling back a little, letting half of the cock drag back out of that blissful hole, Rangar slammed it back in, seeing the girl’s ass ripple as his thighs slapped against them. Grunting, he got into a steady rhythm of forceful thrusting, delighting at the sensation and the girl’s ragged moans of hurt.

“That’s my boy,” Kayma murmured, still holding the brother’s hair, her mouth watering at the sound of flesh slapping together. A virgin no longer, he was definitely inexperienced, but like all Kazdruk that would pass soon enough.

The brother stole a glance, immediately regretting it, the image of his baby sister being raped by the Kazdruk permanently seared inside his mind as soon as the image had filled it. He wanted to help, but was impotent to do anything at all. And, he also knew with growing trepidation, soon he would have himself to worry about.

Huffing, feeling his body break out in another sheen of sweat, Rangar could tell he wouldn’t last long at all. His session with Kayma had long since worn off the most intense sensations in his cock, but he was rapidly building up to the point of orgasm. His balls felt heavy like rocks with pent-up semen, and while he probably looked a little frantic where he laid into her, he didn’t much care.

Grabbing her hip with one hand, the other seized a fistful of hair close to her scalp and quite roughly yanked her head up. Keeping her like that, he groaned and thrust into her pussy, using his weight and position to get his straining cock as deep inside the girl as it would possibly go.

Deep inside of her, past the fear of what was happening to her and that her first time was taken from her in such a brutal fashion – deep, deep within her where rational emotions held no sway – the girl was aching from the large Kazdruk member plumbing her depths, all the way to the entrance to her womb.

She had seen some of the larger warriors’ cocks when she had been dragged away by her rapist as they prepared to assault the other captive women, and their endowment positively dwarfed the one currently raping her, but compared to a normal human penis, it was far too large already, and filled her up like she had never envisioned anything could fit inside.

Her scalp burned with the pain of her hair being so violently tugged, from the roots holding all the weight of her upper body the way she was being pulled by her strands, and every rough, deep thrust into her nether regions made her body jump and tug back, adding additional ache to the brutal rape.

“Please,” she begged anyone who could hear her, in this world or another. “Save me…”

“No one will save you,” Rangar grunted, pulling on her hair so that her head turned towards him. “You live for this cock, now. Pleasing it and spreading your legs for me will be your sole worry in life. You are my personal cock-slave now.”

Breaking out in renewed sobbing only made Rangar fuck her harder, delighting in her helpless situation. He landed a hard smack with his free hand on the girl’s sculpted ass-cheek, making her cry out for yet another reason.

He huffed and puffed, his cock roughly and quickly pumping his captive. The pressure in his balls was building, but this time it would all be let out instead of made to sit still like Kayma had done all through the night.

Passing the point of no return, Rangar came.


At first the pleasure washing over him rooted him in place, like he was spontaneously petrified in his current pose – balls deep inside the girl with one hand pulling her head as far back as it would go – then he resumed thrusting into her as he was still cumming, moaning loudly into the morning air.

Shivering all over, he nearly blacked out from the intense sensation of a hundred denied orgasms being set loose all at once, ravaging him with unimaginable ecstasy and making him howl in sheer bliss, feeling like his balls were jumping under him with every heartbeat.

His seed rapidly filled her up, and before long thick streams of warm, sticky jizz sloshed out of the girl’s pussy to pool on the grass beneath them.

Bucking all through his orgasm, Rangar finally collapsed on top of his captive, his cock still inside her, twitching as the last few spurts poured into her.

All at once the fatigue of the past twenty-four hours overtook him. The long march. Erecting camp. A full night of merciless cockteasing. The short but brutal fighting.

Breathing in ragged pulls, hearing the frightened girl quietly weep under him, Rangar couldn’t help but notice how his cock was showing no signs of going flaccid. In fact, it was hard as ever, the feeling of the tight pussy spurring him on to keep on fucking.

It was like the girl’s hole betrayed her, telling him to rape her more.

He was only too glad to oblige.

Kayma laughed when Rangar started bucking his hips again, this time lying flat atop the girl.

Her nether regions were dripping down her thighs, and in her free hand she had a long piece of leather string she’d use to truss up the brother’s cock to force his erection for what she was to do to him. She wondered how long he’d last before he would succumb to terminal exhaustion.

Inventing a new game on the spot, in honour of her newest raider, Kayma said to the brother “If you can keep yourself from saying ‘please’ thirty times while I fuck you, you just might live to see tomorrow.”

Rangar overheard her, and knew the brother was doomed before the master cockteaser had even touched his manhood.

It seemed both siblings were in for an exhausting day.