The Demon Queen's Tower

Part II: The Dungeons of The Demon Queen

Aznar drifted out of troubled dreams and into slow, painful awareness. His head ached, and his eyes burned. He tried to rub the sleep from them, and found his arms manacled with heavy chains. With the realization of his imprisonment, he was suddenly and fully awake. He had been captured! He quickly surveyed his surroundings -- he was in a small room with a cold stone floor, chained to a damp wall, under a low rocky ceiling, and imprisoned behind a wall of iron bars. Beyond the bars was a rough wooden table, and on the table a lamp, its flame flickering with a red, angry glow. He examined his chains - the links were of heavy iron, and the length of it was so short that he knew he wouldn't be able to even crouch upright, let alone stand. He growled, and rattled them.

"Save your strength, friend," said a voice, hoarse and tired sounding. It had come from another cell on the other side of the hall, beyond the table and lamp. He squinted, and when his eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light, he saw another set of bars for another cell, this one with three occupants. They were, like him, naked and chained to the walls. Two were broad and muscular, young men from the lowlands by the cut of their hair and their rich, golden skin. The third man was older, with greying hair and beard, and was sleeping. He looked haggard, as if he'd been in these dungeons for many, many years.

"What is this place?" said Aznar, his voice croaking strangely in the damp closeness of his cell. "Where am I?"

"You are in the dungeons of the Demon Queen," said the first man. "Like us, you are a prisoner and plaything of Zzaral."

"How did I get here?" muttered Aznar. "I remember that damned wisp of a wizard, and then there was a light. Magic, I suppose, leaving me stunned. Was that Zzaral then?"

"No," said the second youth, shaking his head. "That was Amblach, Zzaral's wizard and servant. Zzaral is a Demoness, a monster from Hell! She sends Amblach out to kidnap men."

"Aye, that Wizard has tricked us all, in his turn," said the first man who had spoken. "I am Dhurzinal, a Lord of the City of Umbushar on the River Llaz. I met Amblach at a Royal Party last full moon -- he was a horny slut! Fucked me behind a pillar while the King was making a speech!" Dhurzinal smiled and shook his head. "But the moment I felt his come on back, I passed out, only to awaken here, in this dungeon!"

"I am Charga, of Laom, a student at the University," said the other young man. "A week ago, Amblach sucked my cock in a corner of the library, and then I gave him a handjob. Like Dhurzinal, the moment I felt his come on my chest, I too fell into darkness, only to find myself here." He shrugged his shoulders and looked sadly around their cell.

"I am Aznar, from lots of places," replied Aznar. "I was fleeing some trouble in the mountains when that wizard appeared before me. He wanted to see my cock, so I obliged him. His come didn't touch me, but it mingled with mine on the ground; his seemed to burn like fire." Charga nodded his head.

"The principles of affinity govern magic -- your come was a part of you, as his was a part of him, and it allowed his magic to work," the scholar said.

"And what of the old man?" asked Aznar, nodding towards the sleeping figure. The two young men looked troubled, frowns forming on their faces.

"How old would you think him, Aznar?" asked Dhurzinal.

"No less than fifty years, I'd say." He answered. "Though in this murk I can't see too well. Is he sick?"

"I tell you, Aznar," Charga said, his voice low and fearful. "That man is named Hramath, and he is no older than twenty-five."

"What?" shouted Aznar, his eyes wide with horror. "What plague wracks him, then, and are we all to suffer and die of it in here? I scarcely believe it! Twenty-five?"

"Charga speaks the truth," said Dhurzinal. "When I first arrived here, Hramath looked as we all do, men in the primes of our lives. As to what plague afflicts him, it has a name: Zzaral! And she indeed dooms us all with the same fate!"

"She is a demon," Charga said, leaning as far forward as his chains would allow him. "A succubus who feeds on sexual energy! She sends her pet wizard out to capture strong men, and then she drains them of their essence, growing stronger and more seductive, while we waste away."

A chill went up Aznar's spine -- wizards, demons, hell-born fiends! And he was their prisoner! He opened his mouth to respond, but the rusty groan of a distant door further down the hall stopped him. There was the tread of heavy boots, and a metallic clinking -- a key ring, possibly? Aznar tensed, and waited. The steps drew nearer. Something large and heavy was treading down the hall. Dhurzinal and Charga had stopped speaking too, and they lowered their heads, averting their eyes. What horror was coming for them?

Aznar gasped aloud when the figure strode into view.

She must've been a full eight feet tall, stooping low to avoid hitting her head against the roughhewn stone ceiling, and she looked as if she had been cast out of bronze -- enormously muscular, with broad shoulders, powerful arms, and muscular thighs that rippled and shone in the light of the lamp. A mane of long black hair, wild and spiked, sprouted from her head, and her face was rugged and split with a huge toothy grin. She wore a simple short skirt, and went topless, a pair of small breasts high on her muscular chest. She swept her gaze over the three cowed men, then turned her grinning face towards Aznar.

"Ah! Our new guest is awake!" she boomed. "Welcome to the Dungeons of Zzaral, little man! Are the accommodations to your liking? Do you need anything? A pillow? A blanket?" She laughed long and loud at her joke, then leaned in and leered at him through the bars. "By Hell's red flames, Amblach has a good eye for 'em!" Aznar felt her gaze run over his prone form. "Yes, the Mistress will enjoy you! A nice body, and a nice cock!" She licked her lips.

"You are not Zzaral, then?" asked Aznar. He spread his legs a little, giving her a better view of his cock.

"I?" laughed the giant woman. "Mistaking me for Zzaral! Ha! I am Ormgard, the Mistress of the Keys, the warden and keeper of the Dungeons of Lady Zzaral."

"That's a shame," said Aznar. He adjusted his hips, causing his half-hard cock to slap heavily against his muscular thigh. Ormgard's eyes narrowed, and she took a huge, gusting breath.

"And why is that, little man?" she growled.

"Well," said Aznar. "I heard what goes on here." He ran his eyes over her powerful frame, her thighs and her ridged abs, the powerful sweep of her shoulders and the corded muscles of her neck and arms. His cock grew harder. "And when I saw you, I was starting to look forward to it."

"You find me comely, little man?" she said, her voice growing thick. She ran a hand over her thighs, up her abs, to tweak the nipple on her high breast.

"I once spent a month teaching the Emperor of Zarzabar's women gladiators how to wrestle," he said, sitting up. "And they were each one strong and hard, but they had nothing on you, Ormgard, Mistress of the Keys." His cock, fully hard now, stood tall and proud over his lap. He flexed his ass, lifting his hips high off the ground, his cock heavy and hot. A tiny glistening pearl of precome glowed on the tip. Ormgard chuckled.

"You think me a fool? That I have muscles in my skull as well as on my body? You think I don't know what you're doing?" Aznar heard the clinking of metal and the grinding of the key in the lock, and the bars to his cell swung aside. The powerful woman stepped into his cell, her massive frame filling the room. She towered over the prone form of Aznar, and leered down at him. "My body has made your cock hard, eh?" She flexed her arms, tensed her thighs. "What do you like about my body, prisoner? What is it about my body has made you hard?" She stood over him, the pillars of her legs on either side of his hips, his cock quivering between her limbs.

"I want to feel your muscles," Aznar growled. "Want to feel them hard under me as I fuck you! Want to watch them glow with sweat and shake as I pound my cock into your pussy!" He ran his eyes over her legs, each muscle framed by a sharp line that denoted the topography of her impossibly hard body.

"You want to feel my muscles? My powerful, hard, firm muscles?" she ran a hand languorously over her thighs. "Want to grip my muscles in your hot hands, rub your cock over them, coat them in your come?" She bent close, bringing her face down to stare into Aznar's black eyes, smoldering with lust.

"Yes," he growled. "Let me feel your body!" He squirmed, thrusting his hard cock into the air, desperate to fuck. Ormgard laughed, and then with a huge hand gripped his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look up at her.

"You fool," she hissed, then, holding his head firmly in place and with his hair still gripped in her hand, she kissed him, her tongue driving into his mouth. He moaned up into her, his own tongue darting around hers as she stuck it deeply into him. Finally she broke the kiss with a snarl of pleasure. "You think to trick me, to get me to release you perhaps? Well, I'm no fool, little man, but you have made me horny." She reached to her skirt and undid the belt, tossing it, with its heavy ring of keys, aside. She stood over him naked, the light shining off her body, making her appear like some primal goddess stepping out of the fires of creation. "And since her ladyship is away for a while, we can indulge ourselves a bit. You wanted to feel my muscles?" He nodded up at her. "Well then, here, caress them with your tongue!" She gripped his head and forced it against her thigh, guiding his face around the heavy muscles, his tongue lashing against the hard warmth of her quivering muscularity.

"Yes, that's it, worship me," she moaned. Her skin was sharp and salty, and Aznar lovingly ran his tongue over the inside of her thighs. He longed to grip those thick thighs, to feel their hotness, heavy and powerful, but his hands were still chained to the wall, so he contented himself with licking them, kissing them, tasting them. "Now here! My abs!" she barked, crouching lower and thrusting his face against the ridged muscles of her stomach. He licked along the furrow of her abs, moaning into them. He wanted to run his cock along that furrow, wanted to watch his come pool in the spaces between her muscles.

To bring his head to her abs Ormgard had had to crouch lower. Now Aznar's aching cock was rubbing against the inside of her thigh. With her other hand she reached behind her and ran her fingers along its length.

"I've really got you worked up, eh?" she said. He paused kissing her muscles long enough to look her in the eye.

"Need to fuck you," he growled. "Please!" She laughed, and slapped a heavy hand against his own broad, muscular chest, nearly knocking the wind from his lungs. His massive pec fit nicely in the palm of her huge hand, and she squeezed it appreciatingly. Then she gripped his chin and looked him in the eye, grinning hugely at the writhing, horny man beneath her.

"I think," she growled, "that I'd rather be the one doing the fucking." With a swift, powerful motion she moved back, the play of light on her muscles making Aznar's cock throb with need. She grabbed his ankles and dragged him away from the wall and flat on the floor, his arms straining against the chains. She grabbed his legs, running her hands down to grip the back of his thighs, pushing them up towards his chest. She squatted down onto him, propping his legs up onto her muscular hips. He grinned up at her -- it wasn't the first time he'd been fucked in this position. She towered over him, every inch of her muscular body rippling with power. He locked his ankles behind her back. She nodded, and her grin grew as she reached behind her, lined up his cock with her pussy, and then slid down onto it.

"Yeah," she moaned, "gonna make you my bitch." She rolled her hips, thrusting her pussy down onto his cock. His whole body rocked -- she was strong, stronger even than her mighty body had suggested. He groaned up at her, felt the heat of her pussy around his cock. He was deep in her, powerless before her fucking. She was in complete control, every thrust and movement hers as she took his cock for her own use. Aznar shivered with pleasure.

"Take me," he hissed. Her nostrils flared in response.

"Fucking right I will!" she growled. She sped up her thrusting, ramming his cock up into her tight, rippling pussy. He moaned as she rode him, wished he could grip her thighs and her ass and feel her tensing as she plowed into him. "Yeah, taking that fucking cock!" She hissed, gripping his lean waist in her hands and fucking him as hard as a young bride on her wedding night. She hammered him with smooth, rapid strokes, pumping his cock up into her. "You like that? You like being my cock toy, you like me fucking you? Tell me!" she barked, sweat beading on her brow as she pounded him.

"I fucking love it," he growled up at her. "Fucking love you taking my cock, just fucking using my cock. It's yours!" She purred to hear him say it. "Just fuck me, take me, just fucking take my cock you fucking animal!" She howled and thrust even harder.

"That's right!" she growled. "That's right, your cock belongs to me. Your hot fucking body, your tight little body is mine! Whenever Zzaral isn't using you, I will be! I'll fuck you whenever I want! You're my bitch!" She grabbed his throat and looked into his eyes. "Say it!" She barked.

"I'm your bitch," he growled.

"Look at them," she laughed, nodding across the hall. "Look at them, sucking each other's cocks as they watch you get taken!" Aznar glanced over and saw Dhurzinal propped up against the wall with Charga's head bobbing in his lap, slurping and sucking the young noble's cock. Dhurzinal's eyes were bright and hot as he watched the two figures fucking across from him.

"You like watching, slut?" Ormgard shouted over to Dhurzinal, who nodded eagerly. "Tell me what you like! Now!" she hissed.

"I love watching you fuck him," he spat, his voice thick and hoarse with need. "Fucking take him, make him yours! Fucking make him beg for your pussy you fucking muscular whore!" He groaned, thrusting his cock up to fuck Charga's face. "Fucking make him yours!" He moaned, shuddering as he came in his friend's mouth. With a groan he fell back against the wall, breathing hard. Charga spat out his come, then turned, twisting his hips forward. His hands were, like all of them, still chained to the wall, but he could tilt his hips up. His cock was hard and long, and he thrust it towards Dhurzinal.

"Please..." he begged. Dhurzinal shifted himself over and engulfed his cock in his warm mouth, making Charga moan. He humped his cock forward, watching Ormgard have her way with Aznar in the next cell.

"Fucking sluts!" laughed Ormgard, shaking the sweat from her brow. "Maybe next time I'll bring them over and let them fuck you before I have you. Would you like that?" Aznar groaned and, using what little freedom was afforded him, lifted his hips up to meet each of her powerful downward thrusts.

"I'll do whatever you want," panted Aznar. "Anything for that pussy!" She laughed madly, her whole body quivering as she fucked the man beneath her.

"Yeah you will," she crowed. "I'll have those two fuck that tight little ass of yours, I'll hold you down as they ram their cocks into your ass. Maybe I'll bring the guards down to fuck you while we all watch! They're a strange lot, but they've got cocks, yes they do! I feel you getting harder in me, feel that cock getting ready! You'd like that? You'd like me to get all those big, powerful, strong demons to come down here and fuck you, over and over!" She cackled madly as she fucked him, and he thrashed under her. "That's right! You're my personal fucktoy now!" She took her hand from his throat and grabbed his face. She leaned in. "You're mine, and I'm gonna fuck you every chance I get. Now, come for me, slut." She rammed her tongue into his mouth.

He felt his balls tense, felt the rising, bursting pleasure of the fucking he'd been getting coalesce into a single bright explosion, centered on his cock. The rhythmic slapping of her muscular body against his, the snaking tongue thrust into his mouth, and the audience watching him get fucked filled him with a crackling need that was almost painful. He tensed and, groaning deeply into her mouth, he came. He felt his cock pump as he filled her tight pussy with his come.

It seemed to go on and on, reaching deep into the fiber of his being, his come pumping out as she kept thrusting down onto him. She growled into his mouth, squeezed his cock in her pussy, and then reared back, laughing, while he fell to the ground, panting. She stood, and wiped the sweat from her face and thighs.

"Oh no you don't," she growled. "I'm not like Zzaral! I want to finish too!" She grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up into a sitting position against the wall. She stood in front of him, one leg propped up with a foot against the wall, the other wide and braced against the floor. She gripped his head in her two huge hands, and thrust his face into her pussy. "Lick me!" she commanded, pressing him into her.

He went to work, remembering the lessons in oral pleasure he'd had from the Priestesses of Zemek. His tongue darted into her, tasting his own come and her wetness mingled together, then he licked along the slit of her opening before sucking hungrily on the nub of her clitoris. She groaned, and he flicked it with the tip of his tongue, making her grind her hips into his face. He took a breath and steadied himself, and began lashing her in earnest, lapping at the firm little button that he knew would send her shivering into climax.

"That's it," she growled. "Fucking lick that pussy! Fuck!" She hunched her hips forward, staring down at the man eating her out. "Yeah, fucking love to make you little muscle punks eat my pussy, lick it, taste it, fucking taste my pussy!" she babbled, her hips fluttering with short pumping strokes into his face. He hummed and licked, and felt her tensing. "That's it, right there, don't fucking stop, don't fucking stop you little slut, fucking lick it, fuck fuck fuck!" She roared, pressing her clit hard against his rigid tongue, fucking his face and throwing her head back as she came. She released his face and stepped, a little unsteadily, backwards.

"Goddamn," she said, shaking her head and breathing hard. "Haven't come like that in a while!" She bent and picked up her belt and skirt. "Nice one, fuck toy," she said, nodding at Aznar. "You did good!" she stepped out of the cell and turned the key in the lock. "Keep it up, and maybe I'll get you a little extra food for your next meal!" Her voice receded as she stomped off down the hall. Aznar heard the distant door slam shut, and silence returned to the prison, his weary and satisfied panting the only sound in the dungeon.

"Well," said Dhurzinal, wiping the come from face onto his bare shoulder. Charga leaned sleepily back against the wall, his cock rapidly deflating. "I'm not sure what you hoped to achieve with that little display, but thanks!" Aznar grinned across the hall at his fellow prisoners.

"Well, I had to try something," he said. "Maybe she'd have made a mistake and I could've gotten the keys. And now maybe she'll get careless the next time or two she comes into my cell for a little fun. Besides," he added after a moment. "I was horny."

"It's this place," croaked the old man, rousing himself out of his slumber. "It has a strange effect on humans like us -- arouses us, makes us want sex more. It's Zzaral's power!"

"Maybe," said Aznar, thoughtfully. "What was that Ormgard said about this Zzaral? That she never comes?"