Dark holes posted in Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Standing there in my tattered underclothes and battered armour I remember thinking that the beginning of an epic journey could have felt a little more....ummmm epic?

I looked around and struggled to comprehend the beauty of the landscape and the foreboding, looming dominance of a castle fortress big enough to have been built by giants. Instead I looked to the reasurring weight in my right hand. My trusty axe glistening in the afternoon sun that never seemed to set. The edges of my axe were marked with dry blood and the handle had a few dents but it was clear to see the blade was still razor sharp and incredibly deadly. A good thing too considering the number of lumbering enemies just across the bridge.

They fumbled around the courtyard with their skinny, bonelike limbs rattling and clanking against the heavy armour that seemed to be the key to their undead animation. Dull red eyes scanned the immediate area but are unable to make out anything in the middle or far distance. I walk slowly across the stone laid bridge and plan my attack. The rattlers (my name for your average undead) are slow but can pack a mean punch, even the mightiest of warriors have fallen prey to a short sword in the gut after becoming complacent. Which is why I treat all enemies as equals and refuse to let my guard down, even for a moment!

As I draw to the end of the bridge my plan of attack is formed and quickly set in motion. I creep silently up behind the largest enemy and bring my axe down on his left leg. The brute tumbles and let's out a pained grunt that is quickly silenced by the sepration of his head from his body. Dark red blood sprays across my face and adds yet another stain to the tattered underclothes. I have no time to think about this however, as the rest of the rattlers fall upon me. I duck under the swing of a broadsword and heft my weapon into it's owners stomach before quickly moving on to circle a third enemy and cleft it almost in two with a strike down from the shoulder.

There is one left now and it is by far the quickest of the bunch. It hops and rolls back and forth with every approach before suddenly lunging forward with a long spear. It catches me off guard and slices through the flesh of my left shoulder. Along with the strap holding up my breastplate. The heavy metal clanks to the ground with the last piece of my underclothes following it. I glance at the wound on my shoulder, pleased to see that it's not deep. Then I notice that my heavy breasts are now hanging free. They sway and bounce with every thrust and parry, distracting me from my movements. I vaguely wonder when I'll have time to repair my garb but the thought is soon disturbed by yet another thrust of the rattlers spear which I manage to sidestep before grabbing the shaft and yanking hard. The dim witted undead holds tight to his weapon and fails to realise that I'm pulling him towards the edge of courtyard and over a cliff. One more firm pull is all that is needed to send him over the wall. His bones smash and clatter aganist the rocks face and I watch with satisfaction while his head plops into the water far below.

Catching my breath I take in my surroundings once more, this time without the undead hacking at me. But I find nothing new. The only way forward is through the huge, wooden double doors studded with iron and bolted shut. I sat on the small stone wall and ripped away the remains of my upper attire before casting them over the edge to join the undeads bones. Sighing, I look at my breasts. They're large and firm, pale like the rest of my milky skin and the nipples are hard. Wether that's from the excitement of battle or their exposure it's hard to tell. My father always wished I never had breasts, said they would get in the way, that they were a distraction. He was right too, they are heavy and cumbersome and the undead were always managing to set them free with their swords and spears. No matter how tightly I wrap them, somehow they would get free.

I spent the next hour hacking away at the great door but it was no good. The thing was built to withstand an army. What was a single warrior with her tits out going to do?. My shoulders began to slump and I rested by a large stone statue who's were glued to my chest. I looked away to think of a new plan when I had to do a double take. The status is staring at my chest!do thought suddenly before standing up straight and looking directly at the gawping stone pervet! He tried to look away and pretend that he was just another inert piece of granite but it was too late for that. I took a step closer and leaned in until our noses nearly touched. "Oi perv! How do I get these doors open?" I shouted suddenly, but he didn't respond. Although I'm sure he was twitching ever so slightly, as if the effort he was putting in to not staring at my knockers was draining his composure.

Thinking for a moment I stepped back before smiling and pushing my breasts together. I licked my lips like the whores from Gutterville and pretended to moan before saying "Oh my. My nipples are soooo damn hard! I need someone to squeeze my breasts soon or I'll go to insane." He was visibly shaking now, dust was falling from his shoulders and his eyes were straining but once I put my head down to take a nipple Into mouth and suck his reserve cracked. The statues eyes turned directly to my tits and his ancient mouth crunched open to release a small, pained moan. "I knew it! Now tell me how to get inside" I cried out after releasing the nipple and taking up my axe once more.

"I...I can't tell you!" Said the statue in a gruff, blustery voice that sounded muffled by dust. "I took a sacred vow to observe all that occurs before these doors, not to divulge secrets to buxum, axe wielding whores!" He finished as I moved closer, my tits pressed to his cold stone chest and my axe to his neck. "Well this whore will have your secrets or she will have you scattered across the courtyard in a million pieces where you can observe the dust and insects for a thousands years" I scraped the sharp edge of ol' trusty across his neck for emphasis. He shuddered slightly and his mouth hung open for a moment before he spoke again. "OK OK. No need to be hasty. I'll errr let you. Just ummm need you to do one thing before I do" lowering my axe and taking a step back I yelled "name it you acurssed wretch!" He seemed a little taken aback by that and I momentarily wondered if the insult was merited. In any case he soon recovered his composure "Yes well I errrr...in exchange for allowing your passage I need a...well a good polishing!"

Upon hearing his terms I turned and looked to the floor before clapping a hand over my eyes. "Are you fucking kidding?" I said, half to him and half to myself. "I'm a statue, not a corpse!" He croaked out suddenly with genuine pain in voice. "Fine!" I said testily before turning back slowly to find a bucket and a oily rag resting at the statues feet. "Where the hell did they come from....you know what, never mind."

And so there I was, polishing a thousand year old perverted statue with a rag. I worked every inch of his chisled body and before long he was sparkling in the sunshine. "There, all done" I said with a smile, happy with my work despite the situation. "Errrr not quite" he replied with a devilish grin before gingerly parting his stone robe to reveal a 9 inch, rock hard (literally) marble cock. "Don't be shy dear, give it a good rub" he said with a joyous chuckle. My temper flared and I almost reached for my weapon in order to chop his off buy that would have meant over an hour's work wasted. "Fine" was my only word before I knelt down and took up the rage once more
"Ummm no rag if you please" he said quickly "just hour hand a bit of polish will do nicely" he added.

With gritted teeth I dropped the rag and took a generous handful of polish to his great stone member. The statue shuddered as I made contact and groaned loudly with every stroke. I ignored the noises for a while and concentrated on my work, both hands moving up and down shaft. Faster and faster I went with the polish acting as a lubricant and soon enough I'd worked up an efficient rythem. So efficient in fact that out stoney friend was behind to rumble. That's when I became away of his moans again. It's also when I became of aware of the fact that I was sexually pleasing a fucking statue! Luckily my anger was short lived, as soon after he shouted hoarsely and climaxed with a large puff of dust from his tip that hit me square in the face.

Coughing slightly I fell back and landed on my arse just as the large double door began to slowly swing open. If nothing else the statue was as good as his word.

Comments