Melehan And Morvith

Melehan and Morvith, vile brothers of vile seed, born of the wicked sorceress queen Morgana and her consort, they are as feared as they are famed. One has the gift of murderous cunning, the other gift of being cunningly murderous. Before they were kings they were kin, sent down two separate roads by their mother, one quest for death making, the other for soul taking...

"Burn the orphanage! Now!" bellowed Melehan as a volley of fire balls fell on its straw roof. A little homeless dog barked at the blaze and turned to chew on one of his warlocks. "Get rid of the dog too!" A mystical bolt of smoking amethyst leapt from the warlock's hand and smashed into the canine's head. In the blink of an eye its fur caught fire before being devoured by a supernatural shadow, leaving nothing behind but its silhouette in the grass.

"My looord, here is thy village's mayor..." rasped the warlord's gangly, emaciated servant, Bovo. Melehan looked at his wretch of a slave with disdain and whacked him on the skull.

"Unknowing fool! It is the Queen's village!" he turned to the mayor but looked past his rumpled and dirty form to behold his beautiful farm girl of a daughter. Rosy red cheeks and golden blonde locks cascaded down around her shoulders, and the dark conqueror felt familiar stirrings rise in his loins as his eyes were drawn into the tanned and rounded tops of her bosom, her supple flesh rising and falling with each breath.

He turned back to her father, his violet eyed steed staring the little man in the face with the kind of unrepentant malice as only a horse could muster. "Good mayor, do you know why your village has been afforded the Queen's protection?" Screams rang out in back as the orphanage's roof collapsed, spewing out a ball of flame.

"The Orcs my lord! They were too many!" he cried and dropped to his knees. All around the prince's men threw the ugly green brutes onto burn piles, full of as many Orcs as they were the prince's losses.

Melehan loosed a cruel and bitter laugh, one that made the mayor's daughter shiver and the luscious swells of her breasts jiggle. "Oh yes, 'the greenskins'. Pig snouted mongrels all. Didn't we teach you mud snorting simpletons anything when we drove away the barbarians?"

"You burnt our houses down!" he said through teary eyes.

"Well come now, I couldn't let the barbarians have us outdone, much less these Orcish upstarts. And don't give me that petulant face." Morvith slapped the old man with the broad side of his sword as if he were a mewling strumpet. "Your huts are shown up by termites, it was no great loss to lose them or build them again."

"What about the children!?" he pointed to the blazing orphanage.

Melehan looked at him with an upturned nose like the aristocrat he was. "Fuck more." The mere idea made his body pulse with forbidden power and he turned his head when he heard the mayor's plump chested daughter loose a subtle sigh of excitement. "They were bastards anyway. Where is Arch Mistress Krela?"

As Melehan looked into the old man's eyes he knew he wouldn't like the answer. "Captured, my lord. Not many died in the assault on the garrison, most suffered her fate." Captured? He was intrigued.

Why would those brutes spare so many?,

he thought.

Alas, intrigue would have to wait. There was injustice to be dealt. With a flick of his wrist he sent the mayor's head tumbling into the mud and laughed as he realized he didn't even get to know his name. The daughter looked at her father's steaming neck and wept.

"Do not cry, child. He is one of many for whom death is an improvement. With Krela's absence however, I find my sword in need of a sheathe..." He dismounted his horse and handed his long blade to Bovo. His hands felt up her ample breasts through her low cut blouse. She whimpered and looked to the side, unwilling to face the man who had just slaughtered her father.

Melehan's mouth watered as he groped her soft endowments and made her cleavage swell to the top of her blouse's neckline, straining the buttons underneath. The upper halves of her plump melons were decorated with a dark and rich tan becoming of a life in the field. Below those honeyed lines his eyes drank in tantalizing glimpses of supple, milky flesh.

"Yes... yes." he said at last, "You will do." He flipped her over his back like a conqueror returning home while she sobbed in fear and anticipation. "You will have the privilege of what other women have stabbed each other over: a glorious stabbing by me!"

Her pussy tingled and her breasts engorged with arousal. Her body was ready for what her soul feared.

Corruption.

***

Dusk had fallen when Morvith finally came under the last church of His Holiness. Sisters Einaudi and Darrow cantered in step behind him, a cart in tow, their spectacular bodies hidden under the black of their habits.

Only the dim glow in their eyes and their improbably gorgeous faces hinted at the unnaturalness that lurked within their souls. That and the strange whispers and growls that issued forth from the boxes towed behind them. Morvith waved his hand at the woman who waited for the trio at the steps of the church.

Her features were stern and her eyes bright. Morvith noted with disappointment the size of her breasts, non-existent in size and needlessly held back by a weathered bodice, overlaid with numerous layers of silvery silk. He would change that, very soon.

"You there! Stop in the name of His Holiness!" she shouted, her voice acidic and unpleasant. Morvith and the Sisters continued on. "Stop!" she screamed and the ground in front of Morvith exploded in a blast of light and dust, the woman's hand smoking and her eyes glowing with ominous power.

Morvith stopped and laughed. "My my what's all the fuss about? Are not all welcome into His righteous bosom in times of darkness?" His nuns smiled at his words, pulling their crosses from the smothering creamy swells of their deep and bulging cleavage.

The woman stomped down the steps and the dark prince imagined how her chest would bounce when he was done with her. "No! We don't take strangers, we don't even know if you're agents of the Queen-"

Melehan waved his hand in dismissal. "Sister please, we are missionaries. I am a Paladin and these... are Sisters Einaudi and Darrow." The two nuns regarded the woman warmly and gently sighed as they did so.

"You will call me Mother Vera! And none of you look like servants of His Holiness!" Vera beheld the nuns with a cold stare. She didn't like how far their chests jutted out, how their sleek, creamy thighs splayed out from the sides of their habits, nor was she fond of the lust boiling behind their eyes. A lust for righteousness as far as she knew but even so, she was aware of how some could take their belief too far and dive into reckless sin.

Morvith leaned forward, flashing an amicable smile. "And what would a servant of His Holiness look like?"

Mother Vera pointed a wrinkled finger at the prince's face, her mouth in a scowl. "Not like you! Those two look like they've been touched by the Queen herself and you young man look more fit to burn a village than save it!"

Morvith shrugged. "Sometimes we do one to do the other. At any rate, if we were evil, I suspect you'd be dead right now."

Vera's eyes flared gold with holy wrath. She walked over to the smug man and looked him in the eye. "If you were evil, you'd be dead right now. You're standing over holy ground!"

Morvith's smile widened. "Well that settles it then. Obviously we're good people otherwise we'd be burnt to a crisp. We need only stay for the night and then we'll be on our way."

Vera considered him and decided he made too much sense to be evil, having seen the vile queen's gibbering maniacs up close before, but still didn't like him. Or the shaking boxes behind his salacious nuns. Her eyes tricked her for a moment when she thought she saw a shadow dart out under their coverings but chalked it off to a stray animal. "Hmm... very well. But only a night. We have standards here after all and all that hair your Sisters are showing is scandalous!"

Sisters Einaudi and Darrow smirked, Einaudi's lustrous raven tresses almost as black as her lips, Darrow's locks as bright as her eyes. Little did Mother Vera know how much more they would show her by their trip's end...

***

It was a dark and stormy night in the village and all avoided the mayor's home as if it were some demon haunted ruin. Ferocious rains slammed against the building while warm lantern light poured out its humble square windows. The voluptuous silhouette of two large orbs widened out against the glass and left nothing to doubt on who was being ravished that night.

Josie, the mayor's sweet, buxom daughter who had an admirer for every house in the village, had at last had her flower plucked. Within the room itself strange and terrible whispers gathered as the lantern light flickered like ghosts in the wind.

Josie's soul cried out in terror while her body swam in ecstasy. Melehan was addicted to watching her firm, fleshy ass cheeks ripple and wave with each slam against her pussy. His hands squeezed and cupped her large breasts greedily, loving the feel of her soft globes rebounding against his palms.

Dark and evil power simmered at the base of his cock, slowly seething up his shaft, eager for the release that would send it into the pure and voluptuous vessel before him. The untainted innocence of her soul called to the vile prince, something noble, something unique... something to despoil and take from the world forever.

Her lack of experience with sin seemed to make her skin softer, her womanhood smoother and the silken weight of her bosom like divine fruits ripened to perfection. "Please... my lord, spare me... spare me the gift... I am unworthy of it!" she moaned, her body shaking in orgasm.

Melehan smiled. It was a common thing among the people to say they were unworthy of Morgana's evil overtaking their souls as a means of not insulting those who would dole it out. "You sly little strumpet! I am the Queen's son, not only will you receive it, but you'll be more 'gifted' than all the rest!" Josie sobbed in pleasure and despair, the steady rhythm of flesh clapping against flesh an accompaniment to her sounds of excitement.

By the Queen's decree not every soul in the land was to be lured into darkness. After a disastrous civil war in the north, it was decided most unwise to have a population composed entirely of the damned. Now, only the purest in the land were to be defiled as the opportunity presented itself.

And for Melehan, the opportunity had more than presented itself. To have such a ripe morsel before him, unknowing of the ways of such a grim and fallen world, he was obligated to drag her into damnation before anyone else did.

At once he buried himself inside her to the deepest extent and pressed her against the window, her ample tits pillowed out into large circles. "Take it, wench! Take it all!" He squeezed her round and peachy cheeks as sheer pleasure detonated in his nerves and his long aching cock spewed the essence of corruption deep into her depths.

Josie slumped down the window and shivered, her whimpers music to his ears. "No... I can feel it..." she gasped as the rush of release washed through body, weakening her legs but making her back arch like a jungle cat in heat. "Oh god! No!" her fingers scratched against the glass while sporadic husky moans erupted from her lips.

Melehan's smile widened with gleeful malice as he felt dark power sweep through him and pass deep into the villager's flesh. Veins of shadow criss-crossed her smooth back, vile roots searching for purity to strangle. The dark prince pulled her away from the window and groped the soft and round peaks of her bosom, his fingers sinking deep into thick breastflesh as he whispered in her ears insidious words of power.

Sibilant and seductive, his voice wormed into what was left of her soul and tore it out in an explosion of pure pleasure. Josie's sweet and pink womanhood quivered over his cock in another chain of desperate contractions before all strength left her utterly. She slumped off his rod and onto the floor.

Josie convulsed in mad ecstasy, her limbs stretching rigid as the exquisite pleasure of evil bonded with her ready and helpless soul. Strange and perverse thrills raced up her body as she beheld the Queen of Camelot in her mind's eye. Her twin violet eyes, burning like cosmic fires, demanded entrance to Josie's battered soul.

And entrance she was granted. Josie's hefty tan lined breasts careened against each other in a frenzy as dark power flooded through her soul, her eyes snapping open as the invasive presence licked at the lingering threads of goodness, a breath away from changing her into a sinful, obedient shell of a being.

She felt that there were now two souls in her body. One spirit was the greatest and most treacherous sorceress the land had ever seen... the other was a barely above a common peasant. The Queen's claws of blissful enslavement sank deep into Josie's being, supping on her innocence and feeding her depravity.

Stripped of sweetness and mercy, emboldened with a lust for debauchery and cruelty, Josie moaned sporadically as the Queen's evil swept through her body, changing her forevermore. Her soft belly heaved and her heavy breasts wobbled atop her chest, her fate as inescapable as her pleasure. She saw future visions of herself sleeping with other husbands throughout her village, sucking the life from some as they sucked upon her spectacular breasts, delivering murderous bastard sons for others and their tormented wives.

She couldn't imagine a more meaningful existence.

Melehan slumped back onto the village woman's bed, beaming with pride as he watched her writhe on the floor, subjected to the corruption pumping through her veins and the unholy rapture that burned across her nerves. Her groping hands skimmed across skin made wintry white, her tan lines erased, her imperfections smoothed. Atop her tossing and turning head, dirty blonde hair darkened into a foamy mass of lightless black. As her convulsions ceased, silence reigned. And in that silence, a crooked grin dawned on her face that mirrored Melehan's own.

As her own soul had been twisted, so too had her body been reformed to twist the souls of others, in honor of her new mistress. "Thank you..." she breathed and reached toward his ankles, ready for another round of debauchery. She kissed Melehan's feet and looked adoringly upon his chiseled figure.

Melehan smiled down at her, his eyes gleaming with the light of sorcery. "It was my pleasure. But... my night has only just begun."

"Oh yes it has..." she moaned and rose into his lap, her perfect alabaster breasts calling to him, so full, and so bountiful that the prince lost his purpose for a moment.

"Not here, however. I have longer to go, to pay the Orcs in kind for what they have done here today."

She giggled, her enormous pale tits jiggling to her motion. "Oh. That. That was nothing big. Just a few peasants."

If only I could convince mother of the same,

he thought. Her loyalties had already changed so much. Melehan was pleased. When he took her before she was still crying about those nameless dogs.

"Alas, duty calls." Dark mists swirled around his muscled form until they solidified into a suit of black and gold trimmed armor. "Don't cause too much damage while I'm gone." he said with a grin.

Josie played with herself, moaning wantonly, his words already but echoes in her ears while her awakened mind dreamt of what sweet torments she would visit on those who once admired her... like the prince, her night had only just begun.

***

Melehan swept through the forest outside the town like a plague of steel, uncaring of how many beasts he slit open in his rage to move forward. Dark green trees glowed silver in the moonlight and thorn bushes gnawed at his heels like rabid dogs. He stopped at last when he heard a moan and a din of grotesque, boisterous shouts.

Perched from a hill he looked down the slope and saw a blazing campfire with many huge, muscle bound warriors trudging about. Orcs, he noted with distaste. Their green skin rippled with each step and he found an unmistakeable dullness in their eyes. Their actions bespoke of an intellect akin to rocks and other inanimate objects, reflected in how some chased after fireflies and others repeatedly stuck their hands in the campfires until a smarter one knocked them about the head.

Just within distance of the campfire's glow was a shapely captive. Melehan grinned. Arch Mistress Krela writhed against her bonds, having been strapped to a timber post. She was just as busty as he remembered and he fought back his hard on as his eyes drank in her huge and rounded breasts, still pushed up into a valley of succulent cleavage from all her bonds.

Like most of his Queen's followers, her skin was creamy and porcelain. Lustrous sable locks shimmered down to her lush thighs and juicy bottom. The Orcs had her upper body tied up but the lower half was free and gave leave for her toned legs to splay wide and leave her pink pussy exposed.

Even from his vantage point he could see her snatch glisten and stream and her eyes flutter with a certain heavy lidded flourish. The various fumes in the camp had thrown her into an erotic delirium. Melehan imagined slaughtering them all and then punishing her for her capture with a heavy spanking. Before he could plan further a guttural roar erupted into the open.

"Kokar to fuck fuck!" bellowed a new imposing warrior, even more muscled than his underlings and dwarfing them all like a jade giant. He dragged a club behind him in the dirt and killed a few of his grunts who couldn't move out of the way fast enough with one blow.

"Fuck fuck!" the Orcs cheered and set about pounding on wardrums to a simplistic beat that withered Melehan's ears. He grimaced when the brute grabbed Krela by her flared hips and plunged his staggering Orcish cock deep into her pussy. Her ivory legs were bright against his emerald flesh and shook in begrudged pleasure as the rest of her body did much the same.

Melehan unsheathed his blade and leapt down the hill.

This will be easier than I thought.

Under the cover of the drum beat and the raucous moans of the cruel witch, the dark prince shed their blood, moving among the green dullards like a black river of death.

Arch Mistress Krela bit her lips as the slavering beast penetrated her in ways she hadn't felt before. With the strange fumes in the encampment, any little touch sent her spiraling into pleasure. As it was already, she had been rattled by at least three orgasms from his rippling manhood. Her plush and tight inner walls sucked along his shaft as if in a feeding frenzy, so desperate she was for penetration.

Her plump and spectacular tits jounced around in their confines like two quaking swells of cream. Kokar was too impatient to free them, concerned only with getting his nut off. Still the warlord's eyes widened over the mesmerizing jiggle of her melons. Krela was embarrassed to moan as the hot saliva from his tusked mouth fell over the pale slopes of her cleavage, dribbling around those smooth mounds and tantalizing her nipples. Nipples that begged to be sucked and remained imprisoned.

Her unsatisfied longing for a tongue upon her bosom exploded through the outlet of her squelching pussy. Swollen and engorged pink lips grabbed his thrusting green cock like a second mouth and quivered as pure sexual heat ravaged her body and goaded the Orc to spew his load.

"Argh! Kokar will make you like Kokar! Soon be like Mama Okok!" Krela didn't know or care what the savage meant in his pidgin tongue, only that her lusts be slaked and the fool deprived of his head soon after. Dimly she was aware of the sound of bodies falling to the ground in the outer ring of the encampment and that the primal lull of the drums had fallen off.