Minotaurs

Bred by Minotaurs

Chapter 1: Captured (mf, oral, nc, centaur, horsecock)

She awoke to screaming, and the smell of smoke. Strength surged into her tired limbs as white-cold fear raced into her heart. Without stopping to grab her cloak or find her leggings she leapt off her mattress and sprinted for the door. She slammed it open, eyes wide in panic, and felt her knees go weak.

The village was on fire. Across the narrow dirt track the stables were a wall of flame. The forge, Sturngold’s hut, the woodpile – fire was leaping from thatched roofs to thin wood walls, whipped high into the night sky by the cold west wind. Screams, human and animal, pierced the crackle of fire and collapsing buildings. She could hear something roaring in the distance.

Nessa froze in terror. Fire. Seven Hells, everything is on fire. She fell painfully to her knees, her eyes streaming as the smoke stung them, her heart pounding harder and harder. When stressed or shocked, Nessa’s first reaction was always to faint. It seemed better than the alternatives, most of the time. She slipped forward slowly and was unconscious before her face hit the dirt.

More screaming. Nessa shook her head, trying to clear the grime from her eyes. Her back was cold, and she felt cold rain lash her skin. She pushed up on her elbows, trying to get her bearings and calm herself. She was lying in the middle of the lane, grovelling in the dirt like a beast. The thin was soaking into the earth, and mud caked her arms, face, and chest. Her feet hurt. No shoes? Nessa thought blearily. Why?

Suddenly she remembered. Fire. There was a fire. Is a fire. Get up. Get up!

Her limbs felt like water-soaked logs. She stumbled upright, legs wide, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The stables were a blackened wreck. A few buildings still stood, but for every partially intact structure two more were empty shells or simply missing. The air was thick with smoke and drizzling rain. She turned to her own hut. It seemed blessedly intact. The door was still wide open, and Nessa was about to head inside when she heard another scream.

Down the lane, at the crossroads, Nessa could see someone running through the smoke. She squinted, then shouted as she recognized the figure. “Tybalt!” she cried hoarsely, waving at him, “Tybalt!” He’d never been her friend, but she was glad to see someone familiar.

He was hurt. He couldn’t find his footing in the mud and kept slipping, falling on his hands and knees before launching himself forward again. Nessa stared at him, uncomprehending and still. She waved her arms to attract his attention.

When he saw her his eyes went wide. He shouted something, but a squall of rain caught his words and dragged them out of the air. He faltered mid-stride, his hands reaching out in front of him. Something black and heavy had whirled out of the smoke and caught him in the legs, binding them together and toppling him to the ground. Nessa clapped one hand over her mouth as she fell, stifling a shriek. Tybalt tried to get escape. His fingers scrambled in the mud and tried to pull undo the wire around his calves, but before he didn’t try for very long. Something was coming out of the smoke, and it sent Tybalt into a panic. He managed to scramble a few feet backwards before Nessa got a good view.

The new arrival was human. Muscular, bare-chested, and lightly armoured. He had a tattered red flag flying from a pole on his back, and several heavy iron spheres tied to his belt. Nessa stared, completely still, at his soot-streaked body and his cruel bearded face. Two braids of facial hair, like twin whips, were the only decorated part of his body. Gold rings glittered in their matted lengths.

Raiders. The Canyon Tribes. Nessa felt all the strength drain from her body again as the implications raced through her mind. They never... never raid this far from the mountains. This isn’t possible. The raider strode forwards, heavy boots squelching in the mud. He looked down at Tybalt with unfeeling eyes. Nessa could see his gaze travel across Tybalt’s body before coming to rest on his injured arm. Three harvests ago, Tybalt had fallen from a hayloft, and his arm had never healed. He could barely lift a child with it, let alone work the fields, but he’d made himself useful around the village anyway. But the raider didn’t care. The moment his eyes saw the weakness in Tybalt’s ruined arm, the villager’s fate was sealed. With one motion the raider drew a crude axe and cracked it down into his captive’s skull.

Nessa almost fainted again, but the sight of blood flung her limbs, involuntarily, into movement. She stumbled backwards, slamming the door to her hut closed behind her, and scrambled for darkness and safety. She overturned the tripod on the hearth in her haste and cursed as it clattered noisily to the stones. The sound was quieter than the blood pounding in her ears as she mindlessly tried to find a dark corner in which to hide.

Even if she’d been perfectly silent, the raider would have tracked her. Even if she’d found a much better hiding place than a pile of kindling, he would have found her, in time. He smashed the door aside with his axe and stepped into the hut without breaking his stride. Water dripped down his leathery skin and dripped onto the floor as he searched the room, tossing furniture, clothes, and kindling aside. The moment he met Nessa’s terrified blue eyes, she felt herself fading. All she could see were the dark brown pits in his skull. Predator’s eyes. She tried to remember the prayers you were supposed to say when you were about to die, but she didn’t have time to say a single word.

For the third time that night, Nessa woke in panic. She was completely disoriented. Her stomach and back hurt and she could see the muddy ground rolling below her. It took her several long seconds to realize she was being carried over the shoulder of the raider. His iron armour was digging into her stomach, its flat shoulder plate pressing her ribs. It was cold and her thin shirt offered no protection. She was soaked with rain and covered in mud, and she couldn’t see where she was being taken. Worse, she realized slowly, her hands and legs were bound.

They were near the edge of the smouldering village. The rain had grown worse and colder, and made it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction, but Nessa could see the ruined outlines of a few buildings. Little on this side of the village had survived the fire.

As they passed the last hut in the village blind panic seized Nessa. She squirmed with all her strength and manage to get free before the raider could grab her. The muddy ground rushed up to meet her and knocked the breath from her lungs, but she still struggled to crawl. Part of her wanted to faint and get it over with, but some wild, animal part, untouched by her life and survival strategies, screamed for escape.

She didn’t make it far. In fact, with the slick clay soil sliding under her, she didn’t gain any ground at all before the raider was upon her. He slammed his axe into the ground a few inches from her head, just to get her attention, and reached down to haul her upright by her wavy red hair. Nessa pissed herself in fear, but if the Raider noticed he didn’t care. He waited until she looked into his dark, soulless eyes and said,

“Rhun, and I hwill catch you. I hwill not be so kind next time.”

In agonizing pain from her scalp to her toes, Nessa could hardly imagine what a less kind capture would feel like. She was screaming and begging, tears flowing freely, completely compliant and completely terrified. But the raider wasn’t finished with her. He tore off her tunic and her short breeches, letting the well-worn fabric scraps fall to the steaming mud at her feet. She squirmed helplessly and tried herself but the raider slapped her bound hands away, admiring her pale, dirt-smeared body.

After letting her stew in humiliation for a moment, he hauled Nessa onto his shoulder again and started walking. It was a more painful journey now. Unrestrained, Nessa’s small breasts rubbed on the raider’s armour. Humiliated and exposed she sobbed and squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to think. Her most intimate area was a few inches from her captor’s head. Even with her eyes shut she could still smell his bestial, unwashed reek. Nessa had prided herself on her cleanliness and kept her hut free of fleas and rodents, but the raider stank like a stable or a butcher’s yard. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about anything.

Nessa couldn’t see clearly, but she felt herself being tossed, stomach down, onto the back of a horse. She heard her raider speak with someone in the strange language of the Canyon Tribes, then climb onto the horse himself. He tossed a thick wool blanket Nessa and checked her bonds before whipping the horse into a gallop. Nessa thanked the small gods that the horse was broad-backed and sure-footed; a rough gait would have broken her spine, she was sure of it.

Hours passed. There was no way to tell how many. But slowly, when she dared open her eyes, Nessa could see the sun creeping above the horizon. The air was growing slightly warmer and the rain had stopped. If she ignored her nausea and humiliation, it was almost a pleasant morning. Either that, she thought dreamily, or I’m going mad. Perhaps going mad would be best. If she wasn’t in her right mind, the horrors that surely awaited her at the hands of the Canyon Tribes would be much more bearable.

The Canyon Tribes. They were too real and too close to be the stuff of childhood stories, but they’d never menaced the farmlands so far from their homes. The tales that reach her from the foothills had been terrifying. Orc and men, working together to raid fortified towns. Monsters dragged from deep caves and unleashed as weapons. Women captured and... and...

Nessa sobbed. Any story that mentioned women and the Canyon Tribes had only one ending. She’d overheard whispered tales when she helped out at the local inn. When the men had too much to drink, someone would inevitably speculate on the fate of captured farmers and their wives. The stories weren’t pleasant. Nessa knew that, fairly soon, she’d find out for herself what humiliations and degradations were true, and which were drunken rumourmongering.

“Get up.” The raider stepped off his horse and grabbed her by the hips. He hauled her down and to her feet, but she could barely stand. He slapped her, gently, to get her attention.

“A fine catch, Estan,” a voice said from over her shoulder. She turned to look... and stared in confusion.

Not a horse was all her addled brain could manage for a few seconds. A horse, with the torso, head, and arms of a man where its neck should be. Centaur, she thought, a big centaur.

The horse-men were rumoured to come from across the mountains. Stories said they were cruel and ferocious, fighting among their own kind for sport. They were invincible in battle; as archers and cavalry combined they could outflank any army. And they loathed all humans.

But this centaur, though contemptuous and haughty, seemed less than invincible. He had an iron nose ring and his tanned skin was criss-crossed with scars and lash marks. The centaurs hands were locked in two thin manacles and joined by an iron chain. They weren’t restrictive, but they were clearly a mark of submission. Nessa gawked at the way his skin flowed into his coat, at the tiny tufts of hair on his back. A centaur. It explained why he hadn’t smelled like any horse Nessa had ever encountered.

“Hwell, she hwill do.” Estan the raider’s tone was dismissive. “My fhather called for a great beauty.”

The centaur snorted. “She is frail, timid. Inexperienced.” He reached over and touched Nessa’s shoulder, and she flinched in terror. “A weak and feeble thing. Goredal will break her quickly.” The raider shrugged. “It may be so. But, rhest. Drink. We have many leagues to ride today.”

Nessa sagged with relief, but snapped upright when Estan caught her eyes. “Nhot you. Karadras, rest. You,” he said, grabbing Nessa by the hair, “come hwith me.”

They’d stopped by a lichen-covered spur of rock, out of the wind, away from prying eyes. The ground was stony and damp from the night’s rains. Estan forced Nessa to kneel on a patch of grass, then circled her, his dark brown eyes boring into her soul. Shivering and twitching in the cold air, Nessa was too exhausted to fight. She simply stared straight ahead, waiting for torture, rape, or worse. Estan stopped in front of her. “Whoman,” he said, “have yhou lain hwith a man?”

Without looking up, Nessa nodded. She’d even been married, for a time, when she was younger. Now she was twenty four and widowed. Even if Konrad hadn’t died the way he had...

“Good.” Estan smiled, revealing a square-toothed, slightly yellow smile. “Have yhou pleased a man with your mouth?”

Again, Nessa nodded. Konrad had liked it.

“Good. Now please me.” He pulled his breeches down and Nessa nearly fainted.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with men’s parts. She’d seen more than enough men drop their trousers to urinate. But no one, no human, had a member like Estan’s.

It was unnaturally large and growing larger by the second. It hung down to Estan’s knees. It was dark, darker than his skin, and coated with veins. A few pink blotches dotted its length. And the head... it wasn’t natural. His member ended in pointed tip, like the end of a shoe. It looked like a battering ram or a dead tree, dredged from a bog, or some hideous venomous snake.

He must have noticed her hesitation. “Hwat’s wrong? Larger than the men of your tribe?” He laughed, unsympathetically, “Poor whoman, you have been so sheltered. Now please me, or I will please myself.” He ran his fingers through her hair to emphasize his point.

Nessa leaned closer, timidly. It stank. Sweat and raw animal musk assaulted her nose as she tried not to gag. She could see flecks of dried seed on the end of Estan’s stiffening member, and a thin dribble of white liquid spurted out as he moved closer. He... finished already? I may survive this.

It was too large for her to swallow, she was sure, so her hands would have to do most of the work. Her wrists were still bound but she reached up and cupped the shaft, gasping at its weight and its warmth. The heat felt so pleasant as it warmed her hands. She could almost pretend, if she closed her eyes, that she was merely rubbing a large, warm... water-bladder. Yes. That was it. She was just trying to warm up.

She was licking the end of the shaft before she knew it. The raider’s seed didn’t taste too bad and she’d adjusted to the smell. She tried to fit the tip into her mouth in a fit of mindless hope, but it could barely fit. She pulled off spluttering, and was rewarded with a slap. Nessa wailed.

“Fool whoman,” Estan spat. “I tire of your feeble effhort.” He grabbed her hair with one hand and his member with the other, then started pushing her head towards the tip. “Open.” When she hesitated, he yanked painfully on her red hair, “Open.”

She’d opened her mouth in pain, but Estan didn’t care. He shoved the tip of his member in anyway, pushing it deep into her seed-lubricated throat. Nessa gurgled and tried to force him away, but he kept pressing forward. The pain was immense. She could feel her jaw stretching and her throat burning.

Estan’s first thrust set off her gag reflex, and when he withdrew she vomited. She hadn’t eaten for hours and it was mostly bile, but Estan didn’t care either way. He let her splutter for a few seconds, then grabbed her hair and started using her face again.

“Lhisten as I fuck you,” he said, ignoring her coughs and moans. is accent, which earlier had seemed so harsh and strange, was now less unfamillar to her. “This is a cock. It is my meat. My tool. My womb-breaker. My ass-wrecker. It is magnificent because I am not a lowly human. My father’s blood makes me strong.”

He pulled out, allowed Nessa to catch a brief, ragged breath, then plunged in again. She couldn’t take more than the first four inches of his cock, but each stroke weakened her throat and let him push a little deeper. “You have three holes. Your face hole. Mouth. This hole is for fucking, not for eating. You will be silent unless asked to speak. You will open your mouth when commanded to receive your master’s seed.” “Down. You have two holes. In front, breeding hole. Cunt. Pussy. Leaking, empty. Never touch it unless asked. Never accept anyone but your master.”

“Behind. Pleasure hole. Ass.” Nessa twitched in shock. “When you are bred, this hole will serve your master well. You will train it every day, as you train your cunt for birthing.” Nessa tried to scream as the implications entered her air-starved mind, but she was helplessly impaled on Estan’s unnatural cock.

“I fuck your face today for my pleasure, because we have many miles to ride and I have no food to give you.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Eat, please.”

He finished down her throat, but there was too much seed to swallow. Some burbled back up and leaked from the corners of her mouth. Estan kept spurting and pumping slowly as his balls twitched and poured litres of cum into Nessa’s unprepared body. A trickle squirted out of her nose as she felt herself passing out.

But he pulled his cock free just in time. Nessa swallowed frantically, trying to clear her airway. She tipped over and groaned, humiliated, stuffed, and in pain. She could feel the warmth of Estan’s seed spreading through her body. It was possibly the only pleasant thing she had to cling on to.

“More words. Cum. Seed. Juice,” Estan said, “And words for you. Bitch. Slut. Harlot. Meat.” He paused, “Do you see your place in the world now?”

Nessa could only gurgle.

“Good. Now, pleasure Karadras. He must carry us both for this journey, and I want him to travel light.”

She hadn’t noticed the centaur approach. Wearily she turned to face him, scraping her knees on the grass. He simply walked over her until his cock was aimed directly at her face. It was clearly equine, but monstrously large. She’d barely been able to swallow Estan’s cock; Karadra’s enormous member would probably shatter her jaw.

Luckily, he seemed to agree. “Use your hands and tongue,” he said as he dug in his hooves, “and your breasts.”

Nessa tried her best. She spat some of Estan’s cum onto the horsecock to lubricate it, then started stroking it with both her hands Even with her fingers stretched open she couldn’t make her hands meet around the cock’s massive girth. Thankful she didn’t have to take it down her throat she spat and licked desperately. If the centaur grew impatient, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to rape her face or kick her chest in. It was easier to submit and serve.

Her arms were burning when Karadras finally came. Thick ropes of cum blasted her unprepared face as his testicles contracted and shuddered. She tried to move away but he stepped forward, somehow aiming his cock directly at her body. Estan had finished down her throat and she couldn’t compare the two in terms of volume, but the centaur’s cum was thicker, warmer, and all over her body. Her bare tits dripped with semen and spit, and her hair was a matted mess. She cried in relief and despair.

Karadras stepped aside and stared at her, his manacled hands folded on his chest. “Unskilled and slow. You will not last long.”

“She last long enough, Karadras.” Estan spat on the ground, then walked over to Nessa. “I offer you a choice. Ride as you are, or bathe in the stream.” He pointed at a thin trickle of water in the distance. It looked incredibly cold and she was sure she’d be forced to crawl to it.

Without meeting Estan’s eyes, Nessa stood up and walked over to the centaur. At least the cum was warm.

Chapter 2: Broken (mf, monster, impregnation, anal hook, body mod)

She’d grown up with Konrad, though she didn’t know him well. His father was a prosperous butcher; not glamorous, but skilled and kind. When Nessa’s parents died of fever Konrad the Elder had taken her in. It was only natural that she married his second son, also named Konrad, and like his father a kind and gentle man. A boy, really. They’d been very young. In the short time she was married to him she’d done her best to please him physically. No one had instructed her; Konrad’s mother was stick-thin, easily annoyed, and extremely religious. She’d told Nessa to “do her wifely duty” and left it at that. It didn’t take too long to figure out the basics. The villagers weren’t exactly shy with their talk, once the drink was flowing. Nessa had seen animals mate and give birth; it seemed to make sense that people worked the same way. So she’d fumbled and winced and, sometimes, cried in pain as Konrad had enjoyed her body. It was only painful the first few times; after that, she even enjoyed it. For three blissful weeks she’d lived with Konrad and helped him build their hut.

And then he’d died, suddenly, while gathering deadfall in the forest. No one saw what happened but when his friends found him, a red-furred fox was sitting on his body. They buried him two days later.

No one accused Nessa of anything. Even the zealots and drunks weren’t foolish enough to believe tall tales of witches and shapeshifters. But her red hair, the same shade as the fox’s red fur, turned his death from a tragedy to a myth. She’d been politely shunned and forgotten.

With a start, Nessa awoke. Her body ached and her skin felt filthy. Memories started to trickle back. She’d been captured by raiders from the barbaric Canyon Tribes. They stole into the village by night and set it aflame. A huge and brutal raider - Estan, she thought, his name is Estan – had dragged her from the mud and the smoke. He rode a centaur – his slave, Karadras – and they’d…  they’d…

They’d made her do degrading things with her mouth. She’d been forced to pleasure them both. Estan was human everywhere but between the legs; the thing he had growing there clearly belonged to a much larger, more bestial creature. His member had bruised her throat and poured litres of seed into her stomach. She could feel it sloshing there now. And Karadras, the centaur, had coated her face and body with his stinking fluid.

Cum, she thought, it was called cum. Estan had taught her new words as he raped her face with his…cock. Better to learn these words now, she thought grimly. This is my life now.

She was still bound on Karadras’ broad back, the horse-man’s hair shifting under her gently. He was steadier than any horse she’d ridden, though she didn’t have much experience. It was a small comfort. With her arms and legs hanging limply down Karadras’ flanks she couldn’t scratch herself or clean her own face. The cum had dried into a thick, uncomfortable layer, but at least it kept her insulated from the cold morning wind. She could only open one eye though; that was inconvenient.

And so she dreamed of Konrad and happier times as they rode. She didn’t even notice when Karadras slowed to a trot and the sounds of wind and hooves were replaced with distant shouting. She couldn’t smell the cooking fires and reek of animals over the cum clogging her nostrils (Estan’s load hadn’t remained entirely in her stomach). Only when the shouts became distinct words and the sound of work and life became impossible to ignore did she look up.

They were approaching a camp. High tents, decorated with ribbons, banners, and hanging bones, bracketed a central lane. Nissa couldn’t see too well but she counted at least thirty large tents with several smaller constructions clustered around each. The camp stretched into a sheltered valley with a sandy floor. Out of the wind it was almost warm blissfully warm, but it wasn’t beautiful. Piles of ash, refuse, and offal dotted the outer camp and smoke hung in the air. But there were people. Raiders, armoured or bare-chested, went about their errands or lounged by the road. The humans Nessa could see were all male and all brutal-looking thugs. Most had scars or iron piercings, and all carried axes, spears, or whips. But Nessa’s couldn’t focus on them. There were far stranger creatures in the camp.

There were more centaurs. Some stood idly by next to the raiders. Others carried piles of supplies from one area to another, their backs laden with bags. There were female centaurs, Nessa noted in surprise. They looked as unhappy and subservient as the males. All centaurs were manacled or collared and none wore any clothing. The nearest female centaur, Nessa noted, had her nipples pierced with huge heavy weights. As Karadras passed her, Nessa saw that the centaur’s rear was also pierced. The thick accommodating folds were laced with silver bumps and weights, dragging the flesh open and…

Nessa looked away, disgusted, and quickly spotted something else to stare at. There was a minotaur coming out of a tent.

She’d heard of minotaurs, often in the same breath as dragons and gorgons. They were things that dwelled across the mountains, a savage race of flesh-eating monsters. Bull-headed, enormously strong, quick to anger and unstoppable in battle, the storytellers and drunks of her village had warned that no one could survive an encounter with a minotaur. And yet here one was, striding towards her on two very human feet.

He was huge. If Nessa stood on her toes and stretched her arms upwards she doubted she’d touch his jaw. His head was a bull’s head; unreadable, horned, and furred. The fur faded to a point midway down his chest. Below that he was human, but larger and stronger than any natural-born man. Big James in the village had been able to eat a whole sack of turnips in one sitting and ask for seconds, but he’d look like a child next to this monster. He was larger than any bull, broad-shouldered and completely covered in muscles.

And he gleamed in the morning sun. He wore only a loincloth and a few scraps of armour. Every inch of his body shone with oil and sweat. And he wore gold; a few earrings, gold rings on his huge hands, and gold amulets stamped into his armour. Nessa had never seen anyone wear so much wealth.

Estan dismounted a few steps from the monster. “My chief,” he mumbled, bowing and touching his chest.The minotaur rumbled in response. His words were like thunder; his voice was so low Nessa had to strain to understand them.

“Estan. You return late.”

“The village had not been picked clean, my chief. See what I have brought you. Karadras!” he shouted.

The centaur sighed and turned, showing off Nessa’s bound body. She didn’t dare move.

The minotaur was silent for a few moments. He grunted, then turned to Estan. “You have been enjoying your prize.”

“Only her mouth, my chief. And she is your prize. You had requested one a great beauty. See her red hair, her unmarked skin.”

The minotaur grunted again. “Clean her and bring her to my tent. You have done well… my son.”As Estan walked off next to Karadras, Nessa’s mind raced. His son? Estan is that monster’s son?

She didn’t have time to think. Estan dragged her off the centaur and into one of the tents. He shouted over his shoulder, “Bring hot water. And find Grungula. Tell her my father has a new prize.”

Nessa collapsed on a pile of furs and tried not to make too much noise. She couldn’t get her breathing under control, but Estan didn’t seem to care. He stripped off his armour and tossed it into a chest, then flopped onto a low chair. After stretching his legs he spoke to Nessa.

“You could run. You could try and fight me. Some have,” he grinned, “but you cannot win. Submit completely and live.” Estan rummaged in a small box and pulled out some dried fruit. “Please Chief Goredal and you may even live well.” He tossed her a fruit and she scrambled to eat it, oblivious to his laughter. Karadras returned with a steaming iron kettle and another unusual creature. Nessa stared in astonishment. It was a goblin, a real goblin. And for some reason, it scared Nessa almost as much as the minotaur.

The goblin was half her height and waxy green with dark black hair. She was shaped like a fertility idol; wide hips, huge sagging breasts, and a sly grin. And she was pregnant. Very, very pregnant. She waddled forward, glancing between Estan and Nessa. Estan smiled at her.

“Grungula! See what I have brought for the chief.”

Eyes narrowed, Grungula stared at Nessa. Finally she said, “Very pretty. I clean?”

“Clean and prepare. The Chief will breed her tonight.”

Grungula chuckled and shook her head. “Impatient. This I will do.”

Smiling, Estan stood and left the tent. “Karadras, guard these two. If they run, I’ll geld you.”Nessa couldn’t have run if she wanted too. Her legs were too sore and her mind overwhelmed with fear. Whistling to herself, Grungula grabbed a rag, dipped it in the hot water, and started wiping Nessa clean. At first she flinched, but the hot water was too good to resist, even if it was being applied by a goblin. Goblins were vermin; rare, but pernicious. Nessa had never been so close to one before.

After wiping Nessa’s face, Grungula wrung the rag into her mouth and seemed to enjoy the cum-water. By way of explanation, she said, “Good seed. Makes strong babies.” She patted her pregnant belly.

Nessa raised an eyebrow, as the goblin continued.

“The seed of many makes baby strong. Soon, you will drink every day. The pleasure of a woman makes baby lustful, strong breeder when grown.” She laughed. “Little pleasure for you, at first, but later, much pleasure.”

As she wiped Nessa’s breasts, she continued, somewhat more sadly, “And pain makes baby cunning. My babies,” she said, rubbing her stomach again, “need no cunning. Goblin babies have enough. But yours… much pain.” Nessa shuddered, and Grungula raced to calm her. “No blood, no. Blood makes a baby weak. But some pain, yes, from breeding, birthing, and feeding. Cannot have pleasure without pain.”

Nessa hissed at her. “What pleasure will I find here?”

Grungula just laughed. She rubbed the warm cloth on her own body, luxuriating lewdly. “I am goblin. For me, babies are pleasure. Breed fast, breed many. Suck for few days, then let roam. Breed with centaur, breed with man - always the same. Always goblin.”This talk of breeding and pain was making Nessa faint. She drifted away from her body, trying to keep her mind blank and empty. She jolted back to reality when Grungula started to spread her legs with one green, finely-fingered hand. “Nh.. no!” she squeaked.

“Sssh, calm. Have you been with a man?” Nessa nodded, so Grungula continued, “Good. There will be less pain. Chief Goredal is big. Very big. Need my help.”

“What kind of help?” Nessa asked, trying not to think about the size of Goredal’s cock. If it was proportional at all…

“Herbs. To loosen and make easy.” Grungula shrugged. “They burn like fire now, but will make you stronger, easier to take.” The squat goblin raised one leg and showed her own pussy to Nessa. It was a gaping, muscular mess, ringed with black hair and bruised. It was pink on the inside, but looked less like a woman’s parts and more like a very well-worn cow’s.

But if she didn’t take the herbs… even swallowing Estan’s cock had been incredibly painful.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good, good.”

“Give me… give me as much as you can. Everywhere.”

“There will be much pain, much burning.”

Better now than later, Nessa thought, and better than being torn in half by a monster cock. “Just get it over with.”

Grungula pulled an oilskin from her belt and carefully dabbed some dark blue powder onto her fingers. She poured oil onto her other hand. Nessa spread her legs wide and Grungula went to work. She spread oil everywhere, coating Nessa’s crotch, then dabbed some powder experimentally on her clit. It tingled, but it wasn’t so painful. The goblin dabbed more powder around Nessa’s cunt, then spread around her ass. Nessa didn’t bother protesting as the goblin slipped a finger or two into her pussy, but she squeaked when she felt her probe her ass. More and more powder worked its way into her holes as she squirmed and tried not to panic.

After working on Nessa’s lower holes, Grungula rubbed a few pinches of powder and oil into Nessa’s throat, massaging her sore neck as she worked the powder in. She even dabbed some onto Nessa’s nipples, for some reason. One the bag of powder was empty Grungula stood back looked at the darkly marked and tingling woman. “It will hurt, soon. Lie still, lie quiet. Bite.” She stuffed a rag into Nessa’s mouth, then left the tent.

Nessa didn’t believe her at first, but moments later her cunt started to burn. She feebly patted at it with her bound hands but it didn’t help. Soon her ass was also burning, squeezing involuntarily to try and clench down on the pain. Then her nipples and throat began to burn. It felt like she was being skinned alive or thrown into a furnace. Nessa’s mind went blank and, blessedly, she thrashed her way into unconsciousness.

She awoke to someone screaming, then realized it was her. The rag shoved in her mouth muffled the sounds of her pain but did nothing to dull the agony her body was experiencing. She couldn’t see; even when she opened her eyes, the pain distorted everything. She couldn’t tell up from down, fur from tent, her own body from the air. Everything burned. She tried to scream and beg for mercy, for death, for anything but pain, but she couldn’t form the correct words.

Slowly, over what felt like decades, the pain started to fade. Eventually it was replaced with a pleasant numbness and complete exhaustion. Lifting her eyelids was too much work so Nessa simply dozed, crying and twitching mindlessly as the last few grains of powder worked their way into her body. Grungula woke her. “Drink, drink,” the goblin woman said, holding a flask of water to Nessa’s lips. The red-haired woman drained it, then slowly widened her eyes. It was night; the tent was lit only by a sputtering oil lamp. In the dim light Grungula looked greasier and more pagan than ever; a living fertility goddess carved from jade. The goblin smiled at her.

“Good, good. Your heart, it beats slowly now. Good.”

With the memory of the pain she’d just endured already fading, Nessa found the strength to answer. She decided cursing was the best option.

When she’d finished whispering all the invective and blasphemies she could think of at Grungula, Nessa sat up and tried to feel her own body. Her hands and ankles were still bound, and there were sickening red marks where the rope had dug into her flesh. No blood though; that was a good sign.

Her breast ached, and as she prodded them with her fingers she gasped. They were slightly larger and heavier than she remembered. It wasn’t an enormous change, but it was a surprise. Her nipples were larger, darker, and harder; they no longer tingled pleasantly when she touched them. They felt… calloused. Toughened.

When Grungula wasn’t watching she reached down to feel her genitals. On many lonely nights back at the village she’d found her hands wandering south, seeking relief for her urges. She wasn’t unfamiliar with her own body… or at least, she thought she’d knew it well. But the powder had changed her. Her labia were thicker and meatier. Her clit felt larger, but also less sensitive. And her entire crotch felt… looser. Every movement of her hips felt like it was shifting things deep inside her, moistly sloshing her changed and dilated parts around. She brushed her asshole with her fingers and recoiled when she felt a large, warm ring of puffy muscle. It also felt tough and calloused, and a little unpleasant.

“Estan enjoys a slave-hole and drinks,” Grungula said, gesturing at the tent flap, “but returns soon. He will take you to the chief.”

Nessa felt her heart sink. “Please,” she whispered to the goblin, “help me. I can reward you. Gold. A place to live.”

Grungula just laughed, “I help you with powder and words, yes. No home for me but here.” She rubbed her swollen, pregnant belly and smiled. “Many strong goblin babies. Many breedings.”

Shuddering, Nessa looked away. She didn’t have time to ask another question before Estan stumbled into the tent. He smelled like sex and sweat, and like stale badly brewed ale. It took him a few moments to adjust to the darkness, but he didn’t waste time.

“She’s stopped complaining?” he asked Grungula, eying Nessa’s naked body.

“The pain is gone. Water given. She is ready.”

Estan grinned. “The chief will be well pleased by her. Can you walk?”

Unsteadily, Nessa nodded, and Grungula untied her legs. She flexed them, trying to rub some strength into her bruised ankles. Estan didn’t care.

“Good. Follow.”

Walking naked through the camp was the most humiliating thing Nessa had ever done. Even pleasuring Estan and his slave-centaur hadn’t hurt her dignity so badly. It wasn’t the mud and waste she had to walk through. It wasn’t the malodorous breeze caressing her pale, bare body. It wasn’t even the staring, lust-filled eyes of the raiders and centaurs she passed.

What broke her spirit was the knowledge that if she ran or begged for mercy, no one would come to help her. She couldn’t hope for salvation, not here, in a stronghold of a monstrous raiding tribe. She was alone, an object to be used and bartered and ultimately discarded.

They reached the tent at the end of the camp’s central lane. Estan entered first, dragging Nessa by the cuffs behind him. Two dim oil lamps lit the tent, their light glittering off hanging gold trinkets, weapons, and ornate armour plates. It looked like a treasure cave from a childhood story Nessa had once heard, but, as in the story, this treasure was guarded by a monster.

Chief Goredal sat on a wooden throne. He was even larger close up; his bulk dwarfed even Estan. His huge bull’s head was, as before, completely unreadable. And he stank, a raw animal musk that reminded Nessa of a male goat. There were hints of spice in the air.“Estan. You bring my prize. Untouched?” the minotaur rumbled, his voice resonating deep within Nessa’s stomach.

“Untouched, but for the goblin’s herbs to prepare her flesh.”

The minotaur chief didn’t respond. He slowly rose until his horns brushed the top of the tent. Nessa felt her knees go weak.

“My son. My thanks go with you.” Goredal crossed the tent in two steps and took Nissa’s bound arms. She tried to lean away from him. This close, his smell was overpowering. He was warm too, like a furnace. Even though he was leaning over, Nessa’s eyes were barely level with his chest.

Estan nodded and left. He took any hope of reprieve with him.

“Name.” The minotaur rumbled.

“N…Nessa.” The young woman trembled, trying not to meet her new master’s eyes. She stared at his hands instead. Each of his fingers was almost as thick as her wrist. He could break her arms with a gesture, she realized.

Goredal nodded. “You are mine, now. My… bride.”

Nessa exhaled slowly, unsure if he was expecting a response. She didn’t have long to wait. Goredal simply bent her over at the waist, one hand on her back, the other on her stomach. She swayed slightly, then spread her legs. Looking up between them she could see Goredal removing his loincloth.

He was enormous. Disproportionally large. Estan had been big, and Karadras had been equine, but she realized now that they couldn’t compare to their chief. Goredal’s cock was as thick as her thigh and as long as her leg. It grew from a dark brown sheath, but it was a dark, angry purple. Gold studs and piercings dotted its length, adding painful-looking bumps every few inches. His testicles were equally large, and had three thin bars of gold through their folds. Nessa collapsed. Her knees hit the ground, but Goredal scooped her up with one hand and yanked her to her feet. She started to cry then, silently, as the minotaur raised his cock towards her holes.

It didn’t hurt, at first. The flared head of Goredal’s cock speared into her cunt, but she didn’t scream or bleed. The pressure was uncomfortable but nothing more. But as Goredal pulled her backwards onto his enormous cock she started to groan and thrash.

The first four inches filled her so completely she was sure she was going to die. She could feel her cunt leaking copiously, and as Goredal pushed in further her bladder gave way. A thin stream of piss added to the cunt juice and precum leaking onto the dirt floor, but if Goredal noticed he certainly didn’t stop.

He collided with her cervix and pushed it inwards with steady, insistent pressure. She could feel her guts rearranging, but nothing tore or snapped, as she’d expected. Nessa glanced at her stomach and tried not to faint. She could clearly see the outline of Goredal’s cock working its way into her body, pushing her organs aside to make room. She could even see the faint bumps where his piercings rubbed into her flesh.

As he kept pushing in her hip bones creaked and popped. She was certain that they’d shifted position, but there wasn’t any pain. Everything below her neck ached and throbbed. She tried to retch as the pressure on her stomach increased but nothing came up. Nessa simply gave up then and went limp, letting her bound arms fall slackly down and her legs sag. She was fully supported by Goredal’s cock now.

Goredal grabbed her by the waist. His rough fingers scraped her flesh and, especially where her skin was stretched over his cock, left bruises. With brutal efficiency he pulled her off his cock. Nessa screamed. It felt like her insides were being dragged out with it. Her cunt gushed in response, trying to lubricate the invading organ, before Goredal slammed back in.

Her toes barely touched the ground.

There was pain, certainly, but it faded quickly. Each stroke made Nessa’s bones ache and her head slosh, but it also brought a brief flare of pleasure. As Goredal’s percings dragged across the entrance to her cunt she felt thin trickles of lust flow through her body. It was an animal lust, a response to a brutal and unwanted invasion of her body, but it was something. Her whole world became her cunt as she sloshed and gurgled and cried out in Goredal’s hands.The lamps were burning low when Goredal finished. He’d managed to force almost his entire cock into her body, at least up to his sheath. It felt like he was fucking her stomach directly, and each stroke drove all the air from her lungs, but he had finally found a proper rhythm. His thrusts grew briefly faster and more brutal before he came.

Nessa had almost acclimatized to the fucking. She hadn’t planned for this. It felt like a boiling ocean was pouring into her body, filling her completely with semen, drowning her life and her hope. Her stomach bulged and swelled even further as Goredal broke his silence. He roared then, a primal bellow of triumph.

It wasn’t a slow ejaculation. He pulled out, inch by inch, as he came, but even as he made room for his seed more dribbled onto the dirt, pushed in spurts from her overtaxed cunt. Even after he pulled out her belly sagged, her stretched and limp pussy full to the brim with the minotaur’s seed.

“Hold.” He said, as the last spurts of ejaculate dribbled from his cock and down Nessa’s leg. She tried her best, but her legs were shaking and her entire body ached. Dimly, she heard the minotaur fumbling with something, and then something cold and smooth popped into her ass.

The unexpected anal violation almost caused her to collapse but she persevered. Goredal reached over her swollen torso and tightened a collar around her neck. Even after he let go there was pressure on her neck. She tipped her head over and looked upwards.

Her padded collar was connected by a rope to one of the tent poles. A second rope, also taut, was tied to a large silver hook embedded in her ass. It wasn’t painful, not yet, but if Nessa lost her balance she’d be suspended by the two ropes. The hook in her virgin ass felt at least as long as a normal man’s cock, if not longer; she was surprised she could take it so easily.

“Hold,” Goredal said, “or rest.”

Nessa tried her best to hold. If she rested, the collar wasn’t tight enough to choke her to death, but it did make her lungs sting and her eyes water. The hook in her ass didn’t help; it wiggled unexpectedly whenever she moved. At least it was over, she thought. He’s bred me. It can’t get worse.

It did. Goredal fucked her again that night, and ever three hours after that. His appetite was insatiable, and his ejaculations didn’t decrease in volume. He got rougher as the morning sun dawned over the camp, slapping her or pinching her breasts to make her scream. She gave up on standing, letting her collar and her anal impalement take the weight of her body when it wasn’t wrapped around Goredal’s cock.

Semen squished between her toes, spreading from the growing puddle between her legs. Her body could only contain so much seed, but the minotaur chief seemed hellbent on packing more in, even if it displaced oozing globs of his previous loads. Nessa’s cunt had gone completely numb, but she could still feel the pressure and pain of every stroke and every ejaculation.

When the sun had risen high into the sky, Goredal finally stopped raping her. He pushed a carved wood plug into her cunt, displacing more semen and causing Nessa to thrash with pain, then strapped it in place with two leather bands around her hips. He cut her down then and lowered her into the pool of semen and mud on the floor. She couldn’t stand or talk. He’d let her drink water twice during the night but she hadn’t eaten in what felt like days.

Moaning softly, trying not to put pressure on her swollen cum-filled belly, she curled up in the mud and passed out.

Chapter 3: Birth (mf, anal, monster, birth, lactation, mind break)

Her nose hurt. Why… why does my nose hurt, Nessa thought. She tried to touch it, but she couldn’t move her arms. They weren’t bound together anymore, but they had been locked in a new position. She tried opening her eyes, but it took too much effort and she snapped them shut almost instantly. Instead she poked upwards with her tongue, and found warm metal almost immediately. Ow… ow… oh hells. It was a nose ring, a thick, heavy, painfully embedded metal hoop. She’d seen them on bulls; it was supposed to make them more docile.

She shuddered, and felt her breasts move strangely. She wiggled again; something was definitely hanging off her nipples, pulling them down. They didn’t hurt much, which startled her at first. That powder, she realized, it made them tougher.

Slowly, Nessa started testing the rest of her body, but she couldn’t feel anything between her legs. When she shifted she could feel something slosh inside her, and her guts felt stretched and bruised. The minotaur’s seed was still deep inside her, filling every inch of her overstretched, modified cunt.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized that escape was now even less likely. She had to crane her neck to see, stretching it painfully and rolling her eyes. She’d been tied to some sort of crude wooden frame. She knelt like an animal, her ass in the air, her head held in place by two wooden poles tied to her neck. Her ankles and wrists were bound to the frame as well. At least the architects of her new prison hadn’t been needlessly cruel; her knees rested on fur pads.

At the rear of the frame, Nessa could see two buckets hanging from the wood of her cage. She didn’t know what they contained and didn’t really want to speculate. She couldn’t see Goredal anywhere in the tent. From the light creeping under the tent walls, it was late in the day, or early morning. Nessa didn’t care.

Goredal came back, eventually. The minotaur chief, her rapist and violator, was as stoic and unfeeling as ever. He didn’t acknowledge her as he stripped off his armour and took a long drink from a flask. Nessa’s line of sight was restricted; she faced the tent flap, but anything over her shoulder was only dimly visible without stretching and grunting.

A few minutes later she felt Goredal stand behind her. His body heat and musk were unmistakable. His very presence made her skin tingle in fear and anticipation.

“You wake,” he said. This voice was like the rumble of distant drums.

Nessa didn’t respond. Exhaustion and fear had taken her voice.

“I have marked you with fine gold and bound you. You are my bride. My child grows inside you now.” The minotaur placed one hand on Nessa’s ass; it felt enormous, rough, and very strong.

He pulled the carved wooden plug from Nesssa’s cunt and she screamed in shock. It wasn’t painful, but it was incredibly degrading. She could feel semen start to leak almost immediately.

Goredal didn’t wait. He shoved his cock inside, burying it almost to the hilt in Nessa’s loosened and weakened hole. The first time he’d taken her she’d felt every inch of his gold-studded monster slide into her body. Now, after he’d fucked her for hours, pouring load after load into her body, her cunt offered no resistance. She could take a cock the size and thickness of her leg without trouble; goblin herbs and repeated rapes had modified her body to suit her new master.

Each stroke sent globs of minotaur cum spattering free, dripping onto the wooden frame or sliding down Nessa’s legs. Goredal could fuck her properly now, and each time he buried his cock in her body his massive hairy balls slapped into Nessa’s cunt and stomach. It was almost pleasant. But each stroke also jostled her newly pierced nose and breasts, sending little jolts of shivering through her.

He roared when he finished, but the sensation of hot cum filling her cunt no longer shocked Nessa. She didn’t react when he replugged her, locking fresh seed inside. He slapped her, hard enough to rock her body against the frame, then wiped his cock on her body.

When she blinked the tears from her eyes she saw Estan at the tent’s entrance. Estan, the raider who’d captured her and brought her to this special hell. His beard was neatly braided and his body looked oiled. Muscles glimmered under crude leather armour. He grinned at her, then stepped in. “Pleased by your bride, father?”

Goredal grunted, spraying mist from his nostrils. “She endures.”

“She will bear you many sons,” Estan said with a knowing smile. Again, Goredal only grunted.

“Speak your mind, son, or leave me.”

“The people of this land are weak. Few know how to lift a sword. Let me raid further. I hear of a great camp to the north, undefended, weak. Twenty men, twenty centaurs. We will bring you great treasure; many slaves. Gold.”

Goredal snorted. “You would take my strength. Usurp me.”

But Estan only laughed, “Half-horn’s raiders will return this night. I cannot hope to challenge you both.”

Goredal crossed the room in one stride and lowered his horns at Estan. “You cannot challenge one of us, human. You have minotaur blood, but not minotaur strength.”

Slowly, Estan knelt. “It is,” he said slowly, “as you say.”

Then Goredal laughed. It took a few moments for Nessa to understand the noises coming from his massive chest, but it was definitely laughter.

“My son, stand. You are no minotaur, but you are my son. Raider of the Canyon tribes. Strong. I smell no fear in you. Take your raiders. Take the twice-breed as well; use his strength to carry your treasure home.”

Estan bowed low. “My chief.”

“Relieve yourself in my bride before you raid. Your seed will make my child strong.”

Nessa had listened to their conversation to distract herself. As Estan walked over to her prison she started to moan in fear. She’s barely survived pleasuring him with her mouth, after she’d first been captured. She didn’t relish doing it again.

But Estan didn’t move towards her mouth. He walked behind her, touching her body with his calloused fingers. She craned her neck to look at him, eyes wide and pleading. He dipped his hand into one of the buckets tied to the frame and drizzled his stiffening cock with oil.

Oh no. Oh please gods no. Not there.

All her fears were confirmed when Estan worked one oil-slicked finger into her ass. She groaned and, timidly, spoke.

“No. Please, please, not... not that.”

“Why not?” Estan said, toying with the toughened ring of muscle her ass had become. “You act like you’ve never taken a man in your ass before.”

“I... haven’t! Please!”

Estan laughed. “Wrong, little whore. I took you while you were unconscious. Another raider took you again while they built this frame. You slept for three days, little whore, and you were well used.”

Nessa gasped started to cry again, but Estan was undettered. He started pushing his cock against her ass. His father’s blood had given him one gift; a monstrous, inhuman cock. It wasn’t as large as Goredal’s, but it was still as large as any stallion.

But it wasn’t painful. Her ass parted before his insistent pressure with a slow sigh of air, and he slipped deeper and deeper without meeting opposition. Nessa gasped and grunted, but nothing tore, and nothing hurt. It almost felt... pleasurable.

“I think that goblin slut used too much powder on your ass,” Estan said conversationally. “You are looser than a centaur mare.”

He started to pound her then, at least as roughly as his father. His balls slapped against the plug in her cunt, sloshing the cum in her cunt and sending slow waves of pleasure through her body. She had no idea her ass could feel so pleasant, so warm and full. It was a horrifying realization, but she was starting to enjoy this.

Estan started to increase the speed and ferocity of his strokes, slamming into her ass harder and harder. She felt pleasure flood her body, then burst free in a wonderful, tortured orgasm. She hung limp in her restraints as the orgasm fled, but another one began growing to take its place.

The minotaur chief’s son must have fucked her for an hour, but to Nessa, it seemed like nowhere near enough. When he finally came he grabbed her hips and dragged her deeper onto his cock, burying its pointed head deep in her guts before pulling out in one swift jerk. She could feel her ass gaping wide open, limp and weak, unable to close or even twitch.

He made her lick his cock clean before walking out of the tent. Nessa barely had time to catch her breath before Goredal was behind her again, pulling the plug out of her cunt and adding more of his potent seed to her already overstuffed body.

Nessa’s world shrank. Goredal’s tent became her horizon; her frame became her home and refuge. Grungula, the squat goblin woman, visited her from time to time, bringing her food or cleaning her body. The goblin’s tiny fingers probed and prodded, massaging her sore muscles, or creeping deeper and deeper into her asshole to scoop out globs of sticky cum.

Every day, Goredal took her five or six times. At first he’d exclusively used her cunt, but recently started to use her ass. The first time he’d enjoyed her well-used ass she’d panicked and screamed for mercy, but he forced his way in without pause. Shamefully, his monstrous, leg-sized cock stretched her in immensely pleasurable ways. She passed out every time he fucked her, not from pain, but from an unending wave of orgasms.Goredal wasn’t the only one to use her. Most visitors to his tent, if they brought pleasing news, deposited a load or two in one of Nessa’s accessible holes. Raiders, sometimes in groups of five or more. More of Goredal’s sons, half-breeds with human features but monstrous, spincter-shattering members. And minotaurs; followers of Goredal, or his children, Nessa couldn’t tell. They were the worst, and also the most pleasurable, because they ravaged her body for hours, depositing rivers of seed into her guts.They often took her two at a time, squashing her body between two cocks until she could almost imagine them touching in her stomach.She could feel Goredal’s child growing inside her, unnaturally quickly, unnaturally strong. One day she noticed that her breasts were leaking milk. Grungula added milking to her other tasks, but the goblin didn’t visit every day, and Nessa’s breasts were often painfully swollen. The fastest way Grungula had found to milk Nessa involved yanking on her thick nipple piercings and punching them upwards into her chest. This brutal technique left Nessa’s nipples stretched and disgustingly large.

Soon enough, the child inside her began to kick and thrash. Nessa could no longer control her bladder; she pissed freely and frequently, like an animal, completely oblivious. Her stomach hung down to the ground, swollen and webbed with purple lines. Ever kick and twitch pushed a thin dribble of semen out of her cunt; Goredal was still fucking her, but he used her ass to pleasure himself and finished into her cunt. She wasn’t sure when he’d stopped replacing the plug. It didn’t matter now. Both her holes were ruined and completely slack. When Grungula had inserted two arms into her ass to clean it, she hadn’t even twitched. The noise had been disgusting, but the pleasure had compensated; getting ass-fucked, even if it was by two goblin fists, was the only pleasure she could hope for here.The birth was as painful as she’d feared. She groaned and gasped for hours as unfamiliar parts of her body shifted and changed to release her unwanted child. Grungula assisted, bringing her water, rags, and, near the end, a soothing drink that numbed her mind to the pain. Goredal brooded in the corner of the tent, his shaggy head held low.

The pain shifted into pressure, then into sheer relief as her child slid free, tugged and coddled by Grungula’s slender green fingers. She couldn’t see it, of course, but she could hear a ragged, inhuman bellow.

“A son, my chief.” Grungula announced, holding the child out. She paused.

“And... two sons!” Nessa screamed as Grungula plunged her hands into her gaping cunt, but eventually, gasped in relief as a second burden fled her body.

Two... sons.... Nessa thought, barely conscious, quivering on the edge of existence. I... have given him... two sons.

Goredal grunted, pleased, and strode over. He brought each child in turn in front of Nessa’s tear-streaked eyes. Two children. Two minotaur children, with dark brown fur tinged with red. Their horns were little nubs of bone. And they were both clearly male; minotaurs could not breed anything but male children.

After letting her examine both mewling children, Goredal placed them beneath her breasts. They thrashed for a bit, but both eventually grasped her breasts and began to suckle ferociously.They were walking within days, loping around the tent and butting heads. Nessa watched them, amused and relieved. No one had used her since she gave birth. Her bruises, even the ones she thought were permanent, were beginning to fade. Her cunt and ass still ached, of course, and the minotaurs were insatiably thirsty for her milk, but it was almost pleasant. She didn’t try to speak or bond with them; her maternal instincts were purely animal. Besides, she was still bound to the frame, and the minotaur children were clearly doing fine without her. She wasn’t sure if she remembered how to speak anyway. Goredal returned to the tent and his twin children hopped around his feet, trying to catch his hand. He brushed them away gently and walked over to Nessa.

“My bride. You have done well. Few of your kind survive a double birth.” He stroked her hair with something approaching tenderness.

“But the tribe must grow. You will bear me more sons.”

Before she could react he was behind her, shoving his cock into her now forever-altered cunt. He hadn’t taken her down there for some time, but the twin births had left her slack and completely broken. Her belly sagged and twitched as he started to pound away, battered her bruised and gaping hole once again. She tried to scream, tried to panic, but there was no resistance left in her. Instead, she went limp, and once again let the minotaur chief fill her body with his potent seed. Every stroke, aside from squelching into her cunt, also squished the broken meat of her asshole, doubling the noise and dribbling. Beneath her breasts, the twins suckled and pinched, trying to wring every drop from her distended tits. She let her mouth hang open and drooled onto the ground, completely insensate, just a breeding cow for her chief and master.

Chapter 4: Banished (mf, ff, oral, anal, incest, DP, mind break)

Minotaur children grew quickly. Nessa’s twin sons could walk within days. They were mock-fighting within weeks. And within a month, they’d grown so large they no longer required milk from Nessa’s swollen, leaking breasts. They still stopped by for a drink from time to time, yanking on her bruised tits and squeezing jets of cream out with their strong, crude hands. But they’d come to rely on their mother to meet... other needs.

When one of her children stuck his monstrous, flared cock into her ass one day, Nessa had barely groaned. She’d known this day would come; she’d watched in horror and fascination as her children had matured day by day. They were clearly adults between the legs; their cocks grown larger and thicker than any human adult’s, with heavy musky balls and dark flared heads, just like their father’s. But they were still childish. They raped her playfully, scampering from her ass to her mouth, then back again. They shoved each other out of the way, took turns fucking her as hard as they could to demonstrate their strength, and, sometimes, managed to wedge both their cocks in her ass at the same time. Nessa always came then; the sensation of two bullcocks writhing in her cum-slicked ass was too much to bear. She shook in her frame, trying to buck backwards and please her monstrous bull-headed sons.

Eventually, Goredal found his children brides of their own, and they stopped visiting their mother as frequently. She was well into her second pregnancy then, and dimly heard screams and roars from outside the tent interested her far less than the pressure in her womb and the semen dribbling from her ruined ass. Nessa knew the tribe was growing, as slaves were taken and smaller raiding parties were absorbed.

She gave birth again, and was bred again by her master, the minotaur chief Goredal. A third time, and she was released from her frame. For the first time in an age she could move her limbs freely, but she no longer knew how to stand. Crawling was the most comfortable way to move around Goredal’s tent. She couldn’t roam farther; a thick iron chain attached to a deep spike kept her from straying. When she was released, all she could do at first was touch her own body. Finally able to explore her much-changed frame, Nessa was horrified, and a little aroused, by what she found. Her breasts were huge. In the frame, they’d hung below her like pendulous sacks, but now she could fondle and hold them and their true size was impossible to deny. They’d been stretched and bruised and beaten by her voracious children, minotaur and human alike. Two gold piercings in each nipple only added to their weight.

Her stomach was creased and swollen, a new child or children growing inside, hungry for space and food. But her genitals, touched by her own hands for the first time in what was surely years, shocked her the most.

Her ass, the one hole she used for pleasure, was broken beyond belief. No matter how hard Nessa tried she couldn’t get it to close, or even twitch. The puffy ring of muscle around its edge protruded at least as far as her thumb; she could grab handfuls of her own sphincter muscle and tug without even wincing. The hole itself was wider than both her fists, and constantly leaked cum. As the tribe had grown, so had Goredal’s visitors, and many relieved their aching balls into Nessa’s overused ass. The minotaurs, especially the young ones, could deliver gallons of semen with each load, coating Nessa’s guts and filling her with welcome warmth.

Her cunt hadn’t fared any better. Probing fingers found thick, dripping labia, an engorged but entirely numb clit, and the plug Goredal used to keep his seed inside her. The minotaur chief had used larger and larger plugs with each pregnancy, but even this latest plug had been swallowed by her meaty birth-hole. Goredal’s potent semen and her own juices constantly dribbled from around the edges of the plug, spurting free every time she moved.

She’d lost control of her bladder a long time ago, and a thin stream of urine soaked her legs every so often. She ignored it, as she ignored her own stench. The reek of minotaur cum could barely cover her sweat, piss, and rancid milk. During her second pregnancy Nessa noticed her own scent had changed. She smelled earthier, more fertile, more bestial. Her children would sniff at her armpits and crotch before taking her ass and throat, as if they were checking to see if she was properly broken in.

And her hair, her wavy red hair, was streaked with cum and filth constantly. Grungula, the voluptuous goblin, had braided it some time ago. At first Nessa had thought it was to keep it clean, but when Goredal used it as a handle while fucking her sopping, sloppy cunt, she knew why the goblin had taken such pains to beautify her.

Being free to crawl around the tent had more advantages. She could be taken in more positions; her minotaur children could now double-stuff her ass with ease. Her human children, who also grew to maturity startlingly quickly, took her with equal ease and inventiveness. One, who carried her red hair and Goredal’s cruelty, used her ass to masturbate. He either pinched her ass-meat closed with one hand or, more commonly, simply jerked off inside her body, his clenched fists pummeling her to orgasm after orgasm. He made her lick his hands clean once he finished; she didn’t mind, or care.

Her fifth pregnancy produced twins again, but left her more broken and worn out than ever. She simply lay back and let her new calf-headed children gnaw and suck at her breasts, one hand feebly trying to keep her cunt from gushing too much. As usual, Goredal breed her within days.

This time though, his seed didn’t take hold immediately. As usual he fucked her five or six times a day for a solid week, depositing endless rivers of semen into her waiting cunt, but she couldn’t feel the now-familiar changes occurring deep inside her. Somehow, Goredal seemed to know as well.

At first, he redoubled his pace. Nessa spent a few days in a mudhole of her own making, as gallons of minotaur goop poured out of her cunt. Goredal fucked her harder and harder, his enormous cock slamming deep into her cunt, distending her belly and knocking the air from her lungs. He choked her, slapped her, wrenched her breasts, prodded and spat into her ass, and generally abused her, but all to no effect. He took her so often that he’d stopped plugging her cunt; even the largest plug would have slipped free easily.

A few days later, Goredal sat brooding on his throne, staring at Nessa as his newest children suckled and groped her limp body. After they’d had their fill and scampered off, Nessa crawled forward, on her hands and knees, to Goredal’s feet. Shaking fingers tossed his loincloth aside and stroked his stiffening, precum-oozing cock. She climbed up the throne and, hesitantly, lowered her cunt onto his cock. “Ppplease,” she said, “breed me, master. Let me carry more sons for you.”

Cum poured from her as she lowered herself onto his leg-sized shaft. It coated his pierced and hanging balls, dripped down the throne, and soaked into the dirt floor. Nessa slid further and further down the minotaur’s tool, then began bouncing on top of it, desperately trying to please her master.

When Goredal looked away, bored or pensive, she began massaging the cock with both hands, rubbing its bulge through her stomach. It hurt, but not much.

“Ppplease, master. Give me your seed.”

Goredal snorted, then looked at her, as if noticing her efforts for the first time. He slowly shook his head.

“No. You are empty of life now. You have done well, but my sons have broken your body.” He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her lower onto his cock. She hadn’t fucked him like this, ever. He was so close, his enormous chest and furred head pressed against her head and breasts. Increasing his speed he hammered into her, shoving her lower with each stroke. Her cervix was used to being battered and tormented, but this was somehow striking places deep inside her, squishing and compressing her already altered body. No longer in control, Nessa thrashed and gurgled, impaled on the minotaurs cock. Goredal roared and came, blasting another load deep into her cunt. He tossed her aside the moment he finished, leaving a streak of cum across the tent floor. Broken and leaking, Nessa lay in the corner, gasping in shock. Goredal grunted, and turned away from her.

“You are no bride of mine.”

Within hours, Grungula, the nimble-fingered goblin, had removed Nessa’s gold nose ring and nipple weights, replacing them with cruder bone equivalents. She’d protested and struggled, but it was no use. Even she knew her breeding days had passed. What would happen next was a mystery. Would she be executed? Set free? Eaten?

She hadn’t expected to find herself crawling through the mud of the camp, her chain held by Goredal himself. Nessa hadn’t been outside Goredal’s tent an age, and though unfamiliar sights and smells surrounded her she kept her head down. The minotaur chief lead her to high-walled pen at one end of the camp, and tossed her inside.

“Slaves,” he said, his voice full of menace. “A reward for you.” He clipped her chain to something above her head and left.

Slowly, Nessa raised her eyes from the muddy ground. She was chained to a post in the centre of a high-walled pen. Humans, mostly male, lurked in one corner, and a few goblins lay dozing on a pile of straw, but most of the pen’s inhabitants were centaurs. She gasped as she felt something poke her ass.

“Little whore,” a familiar voice said. It was Karadras, the centaur who’d carried her after her capture, so long ago. She didn’t need to look to remember his cruel face, his shackled hands, and his enormous, equine penis.

“You have bred many sons for our chief.” Karadras continued, teasing the edge of her ass with his flared cockhead. “Cruel, warlike sons. They breed violently, with many human women. Centaur women too.” Karadras stepped forward, his cock pressing into Nessa’s ass without resistance. “I think,” he said, as he began to fuck her, “I will rape you as hard as your sons rape women of my kind.”

It wasn’t an idle threat. Karadras wasn’t a gentle lover, but Nessa had endured worse. Her ass comfortably swallowed his horsecock; she even began fucking him back, desperate for an orgasm to drive her into blissful insensibility. He whinnied and snorted, driving her face into the mud as he came.

The other centaurs, eager to abuse something that had once belonged to their captor and chief, soon followed. Nessa was violated in every hole, kicked from centaur to centaur without pause. When a female centaur was lead back to the pen, Nessa was hoisted up and forced to lick her dripping horsecunt clean. The black, sweating folds engulfed her entire face, but she dutifully licked and swallowed whatever she was presented with.

The humans used her infrequently, and she had little interest in their comparatively miniscule cocks. She was happy to deepthroat them, sucking warm seed for nourishment, but she didn’t see any of them as members of the same species. In turn, they saw her as a beast-bride, a ruined, gaping, leaking slut unable to live without an arm-sized cock buried in one or more of her holes. They weren’t wrong. The goblins were a novelty, at first. The males weren’t well endowed, but they were voracious, and happily plunged hands, cocks, and even legs into her holes whenever they were bored. The females scooped seed from her body and stuffed it into their own cunts, mindlessly seeking to get pregnant. All the goblins enjoyed drinking from her perpetually leaking breasts. When they weren’t working, the goblins mostly fucked each other, a glistening green tangle of limbs, breasts, and swollen bellies.

If the slave pen had any sort of order, Nessa was definitely at the bottom of it. The centaurs certainly despised her. The occasionally relieved themselves on her sleeping body, blasting it with a fountain of piss, before kicking her into position for another ass-fuck. She didn’t care; at least she was warm, and if the centaurs took her at just the right angle she could even orgasm.

After a raid, when the pen was crammed full of sweating centaurs, Nessa barely got any rest. She darted from cock to cock, sucking, impaling herself, or teasing a few more drops of cum from a centaur’s sagging balls. They’d figured out how to double-penetrate her, eventually. One of the lower-ranked centaurs would lay on his side in the mud, his cock embedded deep inside Nessa’s ass, while another, or more commonly a succession of others, fucked her cavernous cunt. And if the centaur slipped and two cocks ended up in her ass, well, so much the better; she certainly could take it. Even her throat had opened up; she could nearly deep-throat a centaur unassisted, though the effort frequently knocked her unconscious.

No minotaurs visited her here, but Nessa barely noticed. She didn’t even notice the passage of time, or how her holes were increasingly ragged and useless, even to a centaur. Karadras often pointed out that he’d rather fuck a dying horse than fuck her, but she didn’t hear his cruel words; she was too far gone. He entire world had shrunk again; now, only cum, pleasure, and cocks mattered. When she couldn’t find any of the three she lay back and fisted herself, or tried to convince some of the goblins to probe and violate her body. Slowly, even their interest in the slave pen’s resident fuckhole waned.

Chapter 5: Cocksleeve (mf, monster, anal, bondage, unbirth-ish)

Nessa couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been a chained and violated plaything. For the last few months, after she’d stopped producing sons for her chief, the minotaur Goredal, she’d been the plaything of centaur, human, and goblin slaves. The centaurs were the only ones who truly met her sexual needs; their equine cocks slid easily and pleasurably into her well-used ass. She could take them in her cunt, or her mouth for that matter, but only a brutal, sloppy ass-fuck brought the orgasms she craved.

The centaurs had used her less and less frequently. Nessa often had to back herself on to one of their cocks as they entered the pen, and bent-over, on her hands and toes, crawl underneath them as they fucked her. Whenever a centaur turned or stopped suddenly she’d fall off with a wet, sloppy slurp, only to desperately back her ass onto the nearest horsecock again. At first the centaurs had hammered her vigorously, pushing her face into the mud and slime of the pen, or bending her over its railings. Now they ignored her efforts, or mocked them.

“You are looser than a horse’s cunt,” Karadras said after she slid off his cock for the second it time that night. Nessa tipped forward, exhausted. It felt like she’d been rocking backwards and forwards on his cock for hours, trying to milk an orgasm from the centaur’s hanging, swollen balls.

“See, human whore? This one is tighter and fiercer than you.” Karadras had his eye on a young female centaur, who clearly saw him advancing and turned to flee. Consent was almost unknown among the centaur slaves in this pen; the males took what they wanted, whenever they wanted it. After a brief scuffle Karadras had mounted the filly, slamming his flared equine member into her brown-lipped horsecunt. He had to fight her even as he took her. Wide-eyed and angry, the female tried to claw him or shove him back with her human upper half. In turn, he had an arm locked around her neck, and was swatting her attacks with the other, his face locked in a sweaty, menacing grin.

He finished, then dismounted, leaving the female centaur quivering, leaking, and bruised. Nessa scurried under him, eager to lick the last few drops of cum from his still-dribbling cock, but he swatted her aside.

“Too many teeth, slave.”

Nessa struggled to remember words. “Ass. My ass then.”

“Mud in your ears, whore? You’re loose. Broken.”

“My... my cunt?” Nessa asked plaintively as she scurried after the brooding centaur.

“How many sons did you spawn for Goredal? Four? Six? Your cunt is looser than you ass, and you leak.” It was true; Nessa’s bladder control had failed her long ago. Coupled with her copious production of cunt-slime and the loads various species dumped into her holes, her cunt was a slick, wide-open mess.

“Breasts?” Squeezing her tits together to make an inviting channel, Nessa sat begging in front of Karadras.

“They stink of milk and also leak. You disgust me.” Nessa sighed, letting her breasts droop. They were larger now, constantly bruised, and constantly leaking milk. She was able to drink from them if she yanked on her piercings, but otherwise, only the goblin spawnlings now enjoyed her life-giving milk.

“P...please. Please.” Nessa blubbered, desperate and needy.

Karadras sighed in frustration. “Go, please me.”

Drooling with happiness, Nessa scurried between his legs and slid her cunt against his throbbing cock. The centaur was right; her holes were loose and slack, but she could still make her cunt tighter by squeezing her legs together. She also massaged Karadras’ cockhead as it jumped and twitched in her body, pressing up into her stomach and diaphragm. Goredal’s massive minotaur cock had ruined her for all others. Back when they’d cared, two centaurs had been able to fuck her cunt at the same time without any trouble.

Eventually, Karadras came inside her and she slipped off, dripping warm semen everywhere. As she lay panting and gurgling, he stepped away and looked down.

“We break camp tomorrow. Two years in one canyon is enough for any raider. I think,” Karadras said slyly, “Goredal will have a use for you.” He trotted away, hooves squelching in the mud. “Thank your gods you are still eager to breed. Useless slaves are left behind, for the wolves.”

Three days later, Karadras’ prophecy came true. Two minotaurs, possibly her own children, came to the encampment and dragged her away. They didn’t use her collar and chain. Her red hair was a much better leash, and she hopped, crawled, and gasped her way across the diminishing camp. Tents were being folded, horses and centaurs loaded with baggage. While one minotaur hauled her by the hair and breasts, the other fondled her holes, pinching her sagging labia and tugging at the thick brown ring of muscle around her ass. Thick minotaur fingers probed her holes, only stretching them when her captors yanked or hooked her holes. Nessa gurgled in pain, but also in pleasure; it had been a long time since a minotaur used her body.

The pair dumped her to the ground in front of a high, thick-walled pen she hadn’t visited before. Her experience with the camp was limited; most of the time she’d been bound and bred in Goredal’s tent, or confined to a slave pen. Goredal, the minotaur chief, her master, stood by one of the pen’s gates. His skin and hide both glowed in the midday sun, and his musk was as potent as ever. If Nessa’s womb could still carry life, she was sure it would be preparing for another breeding.

“Little whore,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you still live.”

Nessa wasn’t sure how to answer that, so she just stared at his feet and pressed her body to the ground.

“We break camp soon. One of my sons does not travel with calm. His strength is a great fire.” To emphasize his words, the wall of the pen shook hard enough to crack one of the wood posts, and something huge roared inside. Nessa couldn’t see in, but she recognized the sound. She’d heard it, in the distance, on many cold or stormy nights, and assumed it was Goredal or one the other minotaurs venting their fury. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“You will help him march, soothe his anger.”

Nissa nodded, though Goredal hadn’t asked a question. He had never cared about her consent.

Swiftly, goblin fingers tied a leather harness around her body. The goblins swarmed, naked, green, grinning, and eager to please their master. The harness was a sort of corset, binding her stomach but leaving her breasts free. It clipped into her collar and extended down between her legs. It was stiff and sturdy, almost like armour. The use of the six steel rings, two on either side of her hips, ribs, and neck, was a mystery to Nessa.

Once she was harnessed the goblins fled. Goredal left her sitting quietly on her knees and slowly opened the door of the pen. After tossing aside six heavy wooden bars like they were toys, he pulled the handle back, revealing a truly terrifying sight.

Goredal was huge, a monstrous man twice Nessa’s height and broader than any strong human man. His muscles gleamed as he stepped away from the entrance to the pen, fully revealing another kind of monster.

It was a bull, three times the size of any bull Nessa had ever seen. With a hide so dark it was almost blue, and tiny red eyes, it resembled something out of legends. Huge curved horns, tipped with stained iron blades, dipped around its head, while froth fell from its mouth. Most bulls Nessa had seen were lean but tough; this one was layered in muscles, bulging and writhing as it tried to push forward. Goredal held it back with a glance.

“This is my son. When minotaur breeds human, the child is a male, human or minotaur. When minotaur breeds centaur, the child is male, human, minotaur, centaur... or this.” He stared at Nessa as she tried to understand. “The beast half of a minotaur, the beast half of a centaur. Taurocentaur.”

Nessa looked between the taurocentaur’s legs and nearly fainted. Goredal’s cock was the size of her arm. This cock was the size of Goredal’s arm, or larger. It was even less pleasant to look at. Nessa had almost adjusted to bestial cocks in every hole, but this thing was covered in veins, bumps, and ridges, like a knotted tree branch... or tree trunk. Precum dripped from its slit, a never-ending stream that had coated the bottom of the pen in slime.

“He cannot speak,” Goredal said, his eyes still locked with the monstrous bull’s, “but he does understand. My son. This is your new bride, for the journey. She will please you well.”

Nessa fainted then, and only awoke when she was already beneath the creature. The minotaurs hoisted her upwards, face down, legs wide, and started attaching straps around the taurocentaur’s back. It took a few tries, but eventually, Nessa was securely hanging below its belly. They then guided her backwards, sliding the straps along.

At first it felt like she was sitting on a warm stone, but eventually, she realized it was the taurocentaur’s cockhead, pressing into her ass, trying to find passage. Even Goredal hadn’t prepared her for something this girthy and gnarled. The precum poured into her slack asshole and dripped down her thighs, warm, thin, and never-ending.

The two minotaurs forced her back a few inches, and the taurocentaur’s cock entered her for the first time. She screamed then, in pain and fear and pleasure, as inch after throbbing inch slid inside her, stretching her formerly slack guts taut. She could feel it moving inside her, and see her belly visibly bulge beneath the corset. To distract herself Nessa desperately yanked on her breasts, sending two jets of milk dribbling onto downwards, matching the stream of semen leaking from her ass and the thin trickle released from her overcompressed bladder.

She couldn’t take it all; his cock was as long as she was, and even her broken body had limits. When it felt like his cock had squished her stomach flat and was threatening to break her collarbone, the minotaurs stopped pushing and let her hang limply. Nessa’s legs and arms dangled below the taurocentaur, unable to reach the ground, unable to do anything useful to relieve her agony.

Goredal examined the latest living cocksleeve for his war beast, then met Nessa’s fevered and tear-starred eyes. “Please the twice-breed well, little whore. See Castabar does not break you quickly; it is a long journey we make.” With that, he strode from the pen, leaving his sons to guide the taurocentaur out and prepare it for their migration.

At first, every step was agony for Nessa. She swung slightly in her harness, as Castabar’s monstrous cock slid inside her and oozed hot precum into her already filled guts. It didn’t take long for him to cum. The taurocentaur didn’t even stop walking as he pumped litres of hot seed into Nessa’s ravaged body. It had nowhere to go but out her ass, and it spattered free with every step, as the tight seal Nessa’s sphincter had formed slowly weakened and leaked.

The offspring of two monstrous and lustful parents, Castabar the taurocentaur inherited double the desire and double the ability. He seemed to ejaculate every hour or half hour, without ceasing. Nessa’s desperate thrashings only seemed to make him recover faster, but she couldn’t stop moving. Her body was coated with sweat, hers and the taurocentaur’s. Every so often she tried to reach back and pry her ass wider, desperate to relieve the pressure in her guts, but it rarely helped. The rest of the day passed in a daze. They unclipped her that night, but only to adjust which hole the taurocentaur was using. Her cunt took his girth now, slightly more easily than her ass, but with no accompanying thrill of pleasure. Her cunt was slightly shallower, and after grinding Castabar’s mammoth cock into her ruined cervix for a while they left her hanging. It was just as painful though, or possibly even more, as there were fewer places for the litres of ejaculate to be stored.

That was how Nissa marched with the tribe, swinging helplessly below a monstrous bull, impaled as deeply as possible by his huge, ridged member. Whatetever hole wasn’t currently in use leaked cum copiously, an unmistakeable trail at the end of the caravan to show what a fearsome tribe had passed that way. The goblins brought her food and water, though she couldn’t eat much. The chattering green creatures also milked her freely, yanking at her pierced tits and setting her entire body jiggling. She begged them not to milk her at first, as each time they did her convulsions seemed to bring Castabar to another orgasm, but they ignored her cries and she gave up.

Later on the trail, the goblins began storing their young in her cunt, when it was available. The goblin spawn grew quickly, but for the first week were no larger than her arm to the elbow. One or two could easily fit inside the sopping, cum-filled hole, kept warm by the throbbing heat of Castabar’s cock in Nessa’s ass. Born horny, the goblin children fumbled and played in her cunt, their heads poking out, as they fucked and kissed and wrestled. It was painful, but her holes were growing baggier and tougher, and she didn’t mind very much. It reminded her of better days, when she’d bred children for her master, and been his bride.