I’m finally set down, rather I am dropped unceremoniously into a deep hole over which my captress swings. She of course lands nimbly on the hole’s far edge, a perfect landing not inconvenienced at all by her wearing no shoes. She lets out one final war-cry, which is answered by many others, much to my horror. I shakily rise, standing in the middle of the otherwise empty pit, and I watch my captress be joined by many others of her Crystal Elf race, who encircle the pit. Most are pointing spears or arrows at me.
I recall from what I read of the Monster Girl Adventure book online that the Crystal Elves were once a normal breed of elf women who were so beloved by their goddesses that the divines imparted unto them the strength and martial prowess of the amazons. The Crystal Elves thus were born and now, I stand at their mercy. One of them, standing behind me on the rim of the pit, speaks. She wears garb like that of her tribeswomen, but also a crown of beautiful leaves.
“Shia,” she addresses my captress, “you have brought a man to the taming pit. You must now make him submit, and call himself yours, and your journey to womanhood will be complete. Your status as a warrior will likewise be secured.”
“Fair Queen,” asked Shia, stepping to the edge of the pit, “may I now tame my mate?”
“Bring him into his place of domesticity.” replied the elf queen. “Let him know the joy of sitting at your feet and the fear of your wrath.”
That’s it then, I’ve become a pawn in some “coming-of-age” ritual. If I lose, I’ll be this Shia’s slave for the rest of my life. And if I battle her and miraculously win, I’m certain the elven archers will end me quickly. Or wound me and then make my ending more entertaining in some grim way.
Shia let’s out another warbling cry of battle before springing at me. One long, bare leg extends and her foot catches me squarely in the torso. I fly back against the wall of the pit, the breath smashed out of me, and slide down to the dirt floor. Shia stands, legs braced apart, hands on her hips, her eyes fixed on me. The invitation to attack her is clear, and thus clearly what she wants, but I have no choice. I stagger to my feet, drawing a few deep breathes, before I charge toward Shia with a defiant roar.
Her resolve unbroken, Shia meets my charge by crouching low and snatching me up in her arms. I’m thrown over her shoulder and, to the delight of the crowd, paraded around the pit as such. Adding injury to insult, Shia begins to strike my backside with her left hand, painfully for me but in a manner she perceives as playful. The crowd whoops and jeers at my humiliation. At last, I’m thrown back to the ground and Shia returns to the center of the pit, awaiting a new attack.
“I can’t do this.” I cry.
“Fight me or die.” she orders.
Again, no choice. My ass hurts from her humiliating spanking, but I have to try again against my twelve foot tall, blue-skinned tormentress. This time, I dart in fast, but step back when Shia grabs for me, narrowly avoiding her hands. Her right leg sweeps out and catches me off balance, sending me to the dirt. I try to scoot away across the ground, but Shia has other ideas.
Quickly stooping, she seizes my ankles and lifts me by them until I’m dangling in the air. She begins to spin, slowly at first, arms extended forward with me in her grasp. The spinning picks up speed, the pit becomes a blur and I cry out in absolute fear when Shia lets me go. I land with a thump on the rim of the pit, at the bare feet of the elf queen. A savage kick sends me over the edge and into Shia’s waiting arms.
“What is this?” the elf asks me, letting her right hand move to my penis as her left hand holds me up by the waist of my jeans.
“M-my penis.” I shakily reply, my ribs and stomach aching from the beating.
“Wrong!” she snarls.
I’m thrown to the ground and kicked in the ribs so hard I can’t believe they don’t crack. Shia’s right foot comes down hard on my balls and I squeal in agony, pinned to the ground.
“What, is, this?!” she demands again.
I gaze up at her, my eyes traveling up her long legs, her torso with its clearly defined abdominal muscles, and finally I meet her gaze. There is no help, no mercy in those eyes. I don’t know how to reply.
“My balls.” I try.
“Wrong!” she screams again.
This time, I’m kicked up into the air with astonishing force. As I fall back downward, another kick sends me back up, almost like I’m weightless. Breath is gone from my lungs, my body is a patchwork of bruising, my vision dims, and my ears even pop. The sounds of female laughter recede into echoes as a series of kicks and punches keeps me airborne until Shia let’s me fall at her feet.
“What are you?” she demands, her voice the only clear sound to me now.
I take more than a moment to regain enough air to speak. My lips are split and I taste blood. I’m going to die.
“Anything you want.” I cry, tears streaming down my face. “Just make it stop, please! I am whatever you want me to be.”
“You are my mate, my slave.” she explains firmly, her voice strong and firm, perfect for issuing orders.
“I am your mate and your slave.” I relent to tumultuous applause.
“Kiss my feet, slave-boy.” Shia orders.
My pride is broken, my dignity shattered. I press my battered lips against Shia’s blue-skinned feet, kissing them repeatedly. Shia’s elven sisters applaud and cry out in joy at her deed. At last, she scoops me into her arms and leaps out of the pit.
“Your mate is yours, Sister Shia!” the queen proclaims. “May his tortured screams this night attest to a thorough consummation of your union.”
“I won’t be so gentle tonight as I was today.” Shia boasts, squeezing me against her ample breasts.
“Will you be castrating him?” asks an elf of about my height, who I assume to be younger. “I’d so love to help.”
“No,” Shia answers, much to my relief, “he’ll father me some daughters before I cut him off.”
The elves applaud at that as well.
The village of the Crystal Elves is built, as one might expect, amongst the trees. Some dwellings are built high in trees, supported by thick branches. Others are built on the ground, around or sheltered by trees. Shia’s home is one of the latter. It is a quaint little cabin of logs with a roof of tightly woven vines and foliage. It stands in the shadow of a tall tree and is large simply because it has to accommodate the height of the Crystal Elf.
Inside the cabin dwelling is a table with two logs carved into stools, a fire pit under a small hole serving as a smoke vent, and a mattress that appears to be made from animal hides sewn together and stuffed with an unknown material. Shia closes the cabin’s door and eagerly tosses away her scanty top and loincloth, revealing all of her beautiful, perfectly toned body. Finally on my feet again, I stumble weakly to the bed and sink down on it, my body aching. Shia lays upon the long mattress, stretching out and emitting a cat-like purr.
“Undress.” she says calmly.
It is, for some reason, this simple command that brings to the surface all of my fear and helplessness, my psychological pain, my confusion, and my home sickness. As I strip off my boots, pants, socks, and underwear, I openly cry, my body shaking with powerful sobs. Shia firmly pulls my trembling body against her, resting my head on her breasts.
“Why do you weep?” she inquires. “I’ve not yet begun to torture you.”
“I’m so scared, a-and s-so confused.” I babble through a stream of tears and sharply drawn breath. “I’m not of this world, I awoke here and everything has been trying to hurt me or kill me or rape me.”
“You are a man,” Shia explained, as if I didn’t know, “sex is what you are good for, and you enjoy it. Your weeping makes no sense.”
“But I’m not consenting to this.” I protest. “Not to any of it.”
“The spider does not beg the fly’s consent.” Shia responds. “Monster women mate with, enslave, and sometimes eat human males. This is life, enjoy your role in it. I intend to enjoy it at length.”
At this point, Shia grips my head firmly in her powerful hands and forces me down between her thighs. Locking my head between her vice-like thighs, she presses my face into her warm, inviting depths. Shia’s hips arch upward as her thighs squeeze against my head. My body, betraying my dismayed mind, forces me to extend my tongue and lick, first slowly, then at greater speeds in correspondence with Shia’s grinding hips and crushing thighs. When she, after over half an hour, reaches a long, slow orgasm, I nearly black out from the crushing force of her legs, and my face is positively covered in her sweet nectar.
Shia pulls me up beside her and begins licking my face clean, using her long, prehensile tongue. Slowly she moves down past my face to my neck, her tongue flicking across my skin in a shiver-inducing way. Shia’s body moves over mine, pressing painfully down upon me and keeping me pinned as her tongue flicks up and down my collarbone. Without warning, she sinks her teeth into my collarbone and I scream in pain while she bites down with agonizing strength.
“Ah! It hurts, Shia!” I scream my body sweating profusely from the pain.
Shia releases her bite and licks her lips eagerly. She encircles my waist with those muscular thighs, squeezing my hips and pressing down painfully. Then she seizes my manhood firmly in her hand, with enough force to be painful to me, and slides it into her sweet inner sanctum. And thus begins the most miserable twelve hours of my life to date.
Shia’s inner walls squeeze my manhood painfully, and she begins to rock her hips back and forth with such force that my body is moved back and forth on the mattress under her. The speed picks up and, admittedly, the unnatural vibrations and stimulating texture of her vaginal walls do feel very exciting. Caught up in that excitement, Shia slaps me across the face. Lightly at first, for her at least, then harder. As her body painfully rides astride me, all but pulverizing my hips, her breasts swaying with the growing motion, she rains blows down upon my face and chest. Punches, slaps, and swipes of her nails leave me screaming in a mix of sexual pleasure and tortured agony.
“God no!” I gasp weakly when she seems to have reached and enjoyed her climax. “No more, please.”
“Much more.” she proudly declares. “My body’s natural magic will keep you hard and awake until I am done. Now worship your superior mate, slave!”
The violent, hip crushing sex continues, as does the painful beating. I lose track of time. My life becomes one slap to the face or punch to the stomach after another, one increasingly painful orgasm and then the next. The constant sexual stimulation has actually become fairly painful. I weep openly, but this only excites Shia as her lovemaking increases in speed and ferocity for the remainder of the time.
Long hours pass before my elven mate is satiated. When at last she is sexually satisfied, Shia falls upon me with her full weight, twelve feet of musculature, and lays there, sleeping soundly with her arms and legs wrapped around me, heedless of my gasps for freedom. Gasps which are muffled by her breasts smothering my face. Like this, barely getting enough air, convinced my body will break at any moment, I am forced to sleep. Clearly my body needed the rest far more than the comfort. But even in sleep my dreams are plagued with the memories of my torture and fresh nightmares regarding what may yet befall me.
The feeling of a weight lifting off of me wakes me the next morning. Shia moves to her table and prepares a meal for herself. My legs barely respond when I try to stand, so instead of walking, I crawl like an animal, dragging myself to the table.
“Good boy.” praises Shia. “You’re being broken in very well.”
While she enjoys her meal, my elven mate rests her feet on my back. Apparently I am both sex-slave and footstool in this society. But, huddled on the floor under her bare feet, I don’t complain, lest I be punished. If sex, an act of pleasure for this Crystal Elf, leaves me barely able to walk, how could I even survive a punishment? Would I survive? Would I even want to?
“You may eat now.” Shia instructs.
She places a plate on the floor and I eat, still seated naked by her feet. I’m so humiliated, so thoroughly debased, that I don’t even think to protest the unfairness of my situation. What good would it do me anyway?
“You will clean my home today.” Shia informs me. “You will fetch water from the spring with the other men, and tonight we will mate again.”
“Again?” I moan.
“I won’t be so soft as I’ve been,” she assures me, “do not fret, lover. You’ll know my full strength tonight.”
I’m going to die. I’m going to be fucked to death by an amazon elf. It sounds like Heaven, but it couldn’t be any more of a Hell. My only hope rests in one of my errands: fetching water with the other men. Perhaps then I can slip away and leave Shia behind.
“I’m going out,” she informs me, “honour my departure.”
“I don’t understand.” I admit.
“Stupid male,” she scoffs, “when I arrive or leave you, you worship my feet like a good slave. Now.”
Still seated en her stool, Shia presents her perfect, blue-skinned feet. They are, of course, to scale with the rest of her. As such, it takes me a while to kiss and lick them all over, to Shia’s satisfaction. My lips caress her soles, my tongue lapping at her soft skin and moving between her toes. When I have finished with both feet, Shia rises.
“Go fetch water with the other males.” she instructs. “When you return, clean our home and then stand in the corner until I return.”
“Yes Shia.” I answer.
“You’ll make a fine mate.” she praises.
Why does that make me feel proud?!
I exit Shia’s home and see, for the first time, other men emerging. They are all thin, they look underfed, and they move mechanically, without any sense of real life. Their spirits have been thoroughly broken. They are like machines built to serve their mistresses.
One by one the men move in a line, carrying water pots. I dart back inside and retrieve a clay pot that I’d missed before, and hurry to join the men. Supervising the line of servants, wearing a knife at her side and holding a vine whip, is the younger elf who’d talked to Aria after my taming. She eyes me with a look I do not fully understand. She looks to be about eighteen in human years, and thus has not blossomed to the full height of her elf sisters. She stands roughly at my height, only slightly taller.
“Move along!” she barks, cracking her whip across a man’s shoulders.
The man stumbles forward but does not cry out. Are they so dead to pain? Will I be like them one day if I don’t escape? Almost certainly. But, for fear of punishment, I fall in line and hastily make my way down to a nearby river with the others. The journey is short and would not be unpleasant, save for the fact that movement of any sort hurts me greatly after Shia’s long, passionate night astride me. As such, stooping to fill my water pot proves to be a wince-worthy effort.
“You, new boy.” comes the elf’s voice as she cracks her whip in the air. “Shia’s mate. Come here, now! The rest of you, stay.”
I set my pot away from the shore and tentatively step toward our overseer, keeping my eyes down as I’ve seen the other men do. She beckons me to follow her away from the shore and I obey, having no other choice. At last, we are well separated from the rest of the men, and it is then that she tackles me viciously, landing hard on my torso with both of her knees.
“Now, you little whore,” she snarls, her face inches from mine, her knife in her hand, “I’m going to cut off those pathetic testicles of yours.”
“W-why?!” I gasp weakly as she unbuttons my pants and slides down my underwear.
“Because your mate wouldn’t let me, and it turns me on to hear men scream when I do this nice and slow.” she purrs, seizing my balls in one hand and pulling them up painfully.
The cold edge of her knife presses slowly into my skin, and my primal instincts kick in like a lightning strike. Panic fuels me, adrenaline fires in my veins, forcing away the fear that had numbed me and left me at her mercy. With a great roar, I heave her off of me and throw her to the ground. Her shock is so great at seeing a male fight back that I have time to quickly pull up my underwear and zip up my pants before charging off into the forest.
I don’t know which way I’m going. I only know that the wicked elf is behind me, running quickly, and that I have to lose her soon. My feet stumble on a few large roots and I keep my arms up to bat away grasping blanches. Terror pounds in my heart as I run, the footsteps of my pursuer close behind me. She let’s out a war cry and is about to leap upon me when I break through the trees into a clearing, and she freezes as if she’s run into a transparent wall.
I watch her for a while as she watches me, a look of fear briefly flickering across her face. Then she turns, and she is gone into the woods and I am alone once again. But what could have driven her off? Another monster girl? Most likely. I’ll have to be cautious. I only just escaped a horrible life amongst the Crystal Elves, I can’t afford to risk capture again. Carefully I look around me as I step forward, but I see nothing, nor do I hear anything besides the sounds of the forest. Then I look up, and I wish I was back in Shia’s arms again.
Above me, smiling wolfishly and perched in a massive web that spans the sky above the clearing like a gossamer ceiling, is a horrific creature with the giant body of a spider, but with a woman’s upper-body where the spider’s head should be. Her hair is jet-black, her eyes gleam fiercely, and her skin is the color of ivory. Over her torso she wears some garment of tight black leather that accentuates her large chest. In her hands she holds a long strand of spider-silk that trails down from her web, far down to the ground, to a loop in which I’ve managed to step.
She lets out a wicked cackle and pulls hard on the silk, hand over hand. The loop snaps tight around my ankles and yanks me off my feet, hauling me ever upward and into my captress’ web. She laughs all the while, and I struggle uselessly in midair until I’m up above her web, lying on my back upon the sticky strands, quivering in her shadow.
“A new toy!” she cries. “Hopefully you will last longer than the last.”
“The l-last?” I stammer, still shocked at her horrifying appearance.
“He died when I began dissecting him,” she explains, clicking her foremost, razor-tipped spider legs together, “so he didn’t get to live long enough to enjoy me laying my eggs in him. You’ll be much better though, I can feel it.”
“Someone help me!” I screamed, thrashing and wriggling on the web. “God don’t let me die this way! Help me, somebody, please!”
“It will feel amazing when I cut you.” purred the spider. “I’ll make sure you love it.”
I’d heard of these monster girls too. Arachnitaurs they’re called. Sadistic spider-women that thrive on the torture and misery of their male mates. Said mates never last very long, or so I’ve heard. In that knowledge, I pull myself painfully from the web and try to scramble away, only to fall on my belly and stick to the web once again, more thoroughly this time.
“Don’t run, toy.” the spider-woman ominously purrs as she looms over me. “Save your breath for screaming.”
“Why do you want to do this?” I groan in pathetic desperation.
“Because no one can stop me.” she cackles.
I quiver and whimper, shaking like a tiny leaf in an all-consuming storm. But the first strike is not a cut. Instead it comes from a short strand of her silk held in her hand. The arachnitaur cracks it through the air and lets it collide with my back. Even made of silk, the whip stings bitterly and I bite back a cry of pain.
LIKE MORE ? – PLEASE VISIT OUR SPONSOR