A few more survivors are ripped away from her stomach as she runs a nail across her soft physique. Some tumble, while others perish on contact with the seemingly divine finger. It happens in the blink of an eye; one lady with an unwieldy purple gown doesn’t see it coming, pulped into a splotch of dark red before any guests can blink. One moment she’s alive and full of life. The next, she’s a semi-permanent fixture of Annora’s flawless skin. Wherever her finger trails, destruction follows. Several microscopic entities located further down manage to avoid the erotic tease, narrowly preventing themselves from being smashed into a series of dark red stains.
Though, a single person finds themselves lodged tightly beneath her fingertip. A Lord, one who has been forced to attend this celebration despite various personal objections. By complete happenstance, its Lord Charles, a powerful political rival that Calin had invited merely as a courtesy. He’d been enjoying the free drinks only hours ago and making the best of a dreadful situation. Now? He’s dragged ruthlessly downward, doing his best to maintain his confident exterior. However, his charade is rapidly called, the simple motions of the girl's finger too much to adequately withstand.
She promptly flips over, presenting her butt proudly as an animal in heat, giving herself to the Duke. Not out of a sense of obligation but out of love. A desire to see the man of her dreams fulfilled spiritually and sexually.
"How would you feel about perhaps consummating our union sooner rather than later? You still have yet to seal the deal, so to speak." She says, gently tracing the area around her asshole. The discolored area of skin sinks as she puts pressure on it, preparing her exit for the turbulence yet to come. It's such a taboo act. But that’s precisely what makes it so very appealing. Besides, when have the two of them ever played by the rules?
Charles watches in suspense as the finger finally slows its meteoric descent down the bride's body, locking eyes with a young man who couldn’t have been more than twenty years of age. He chokes on the scents and fluids of desire, his eyes flying open as the finger slowly and hesitantly approaches the alien landscape of darkened, wrinkled hills.
“A-ah! H-help, help m-” The stranger's agonizing cries for assistance are silenced as the finger presses him into the natural oils of her asshole. It's light at first, but the pressure quickly increases, and the Lord can only listen to the muffled wails and cracks of bone as she circles along the puckered hole. Charles is so close to the act of violence, only barely avoiding direct contact with the outside of her anus, fear clutching his chest. He silently prays to whatever gods are willing to listen, wordlessly observing a streak generated from beneath the imposing digit's force.
It's around now that Charles notices a figure right towards the center of her tight exit. He’d been too focused on the poor soul who met their end only moments prior, decimated into obscurity along with her stretchy ring, light moisture prevalent from the inoffensive oils her body naturally produces. It flexes, opening up slightly in anticipation of the approaching finger.
“No!” Charles shouts in a panic, watching the well-dressed lady disappear into a bottomless hole of humiliation, knowing he’ll shortly follow. A distinct scent smacks him upside the head, musty, overpowering, but ultimately intoxicating. It’s not any particular foul odor but the fragrance of female arousal. It leaves him transfixed for a moment before he’s thrown inside fetid darkness.
Being thrust inside, one thing is immediately apparent to the lord. The young lady has extensive hygiene; that much is indisputable. Considered purer than most noblewomen of her relative standing, her cleanliness and attention to her daily beautification are second to only the Duke himself. The two made for a beautiful couple. A duo that turned heads even before their vows. Charles silently thanks the gods that the rumor about her was true. The rigorous personal hygiene extends to even her delicate insides, having prepared well beforehand for any possible sexual situation.
Yet, the atmosphere is still oppressive, miserable even. The Lord finds himself struggling to breathe foul air, choking on the toxic processes of the prim and proper lady's relentless body. He’s so weak and feeble in this state that even a brief foray inside such a hostile environment is enough to bring even a rich and powerful man like Charles to his knees. The lady he’d seen only trace glimpses of is seemingly gone, the noble unable to spot any trace of her in the dim light.
Walls pulse, undulating rhythmically to an invisible tempo. It's a slow push inside Annora’s asshole, but each second is agonizing, feeling like miles upon miles of rapidly moving flesh to his sides. All sounds from outside have faded to nothing, her body's natural noises replacing those of the outside world.
Eventually, there’s a jolt. A slight stop as Annora decides to pull a dainty finger back out, causing Charles to finally break loose of the surprisingly clingy fingernail. He hurtles through the darkness, his descent short and succinct as he flops onto the floor of her rectum. He’s disgusted at the texture of his ground, finding it covered in a weak layer of goo, the body's own brand, meant to keep the insides healthy and well.
Standing up, he balks at the state of his fancy garments, the Lord's priorities vastly out of order. Smooth as her skin might be, the clothes had undergone considerably more friction than the delicate dress attire was ever intended to withstand. Regardless, they lay tattered beyond repair, holes gaping across his legs and torso from the intense friction of being dragged across the fair skin.
On the outside, Annora gets caught in the moment. Her audience is enthralled with both her performance and the idea of such a taboo. The Duke approaches, her rear end presenting itself high into the air for him alone to marvel and experience. His cock stiffens, painfully erect as his wife plays with the gentle wrinkles of her butt. Looking over her shoulder, she smirks as a layer of mischief falls across her face. A fiercely naughty act born of devotion to one another.
Calin gently grabs her butt, planting a hand across it, massaging it to Annora’s audible enjoyment. He takes the head of his cock, and presses it readily against the tight sphincter. She groans out in delight and bites a lip with the nearly uncontrollable need to push against it. They take it slow, the head gradually teasing its way into her otherwise impassable hole. She finds herself reaching a hand down between her legs. She’s so sensitive, her nerves overreacting to even a slight touch. But she can’t help herself, lust driving her need for more stimulation.
Further in it goes, maintaining a steady push inward before Calin finally loses his patience. He gives in to his more base instincts and pulls out, only to pound her forcefully from behind.
Inside the entrance of her rectum, Lord Charles screams, a great pillar of meat burgeoning its way inside. The dark is replaced by a faint light, the muscles above squeezing tightly around an impossibly large head. He’s blown away, realizing the rest of the behemoth is sure to follow. Further ahead, right next to the clenching sphincter, lies the woman from earlier, clutching her leg in pain. He reaches out, perhaps somewhat wistfully hoping he may be able to help, but it's far too late for either of them.
“Mlady! Watch out!” He shouts helplessly, the nervous cadence of desperation coming through his words.
Calin’s manhood plows through the blinking ring of squishy muscle, leaving zero room for anything in its path. Thrusting inside, Charles can only watch helplessly as the powerful rod overtakes the injured woman. Her last moments of consciousness were spent in awe of a penis more extensive than the royal castle itself, slinking into the depths of Lady Annora's ass. There’s only cold apathy as it continues deeper, stopping right in front of the desperate lord. Everything halts for a minute; the beast twitches in response to the stimuli around it before pulling out. Although, the relief is short-lived, as it comes barreling back. He flinches, breathing a sigh of relief as it stops short again and again.
“O-ooooh, Careful!” Annora cautions, a mixture of pleasure and urgency haunting her voice. Calin takes heed, however. Not stopping entirely but significantly slowing his thrusts in response to the initial discomfort of his lover.
“Sorry, my love. How is this?” He quenches his primal side, sinking into a comfortable rhythm. Annora lets out a grunt of approval.
“L-like that, yes!” she pushes into his thrusts, furthering the momentum between the two, elevating her own sensations. They meet in the middle.
SlapSlapSlapSlap
The furious slapping of flesh is contained in the lavish bedroom of the couple's shared estate. It echoes through the empty room, whimpers of ecstasy accompanying the volatile sounds of lovemaking.
Inside, the microscopic Lord tries his best to stand tall, observing the ferocious member as it stretches out an alien world. It's not long before the whirlwind of energy suddenly stops, the oozing slit of Duke Calin’s plump head pointed downwards. It's ready to fire. The older man's mouth hangs open in astonishment while he gets a powerful preview into his end. It leaks pre-cum, prepared to burst.
"So, this is the end, eh?" Lord Charles concedes to his adversary, alone and in perhaps the most humiliating place he's ever found himself. To say he'd been defeated would be an understatement. He closes his eyes in a rare moment of calm acceptance.
"Well fought Duke, well-fought indeed."
One last shudder courses through the muscle before white-hot liquid spurts out at dizzying speeds. Built-up for several moons, Calin unleashes the entire whole load of his balls unknowingly onto his greatest political adversary. The first solid spurt hits to his left, but the vague miss doesn’t matter; the splashback is still forceful enough to throw him to the sticky ground. Two more large squirts fill up his bride, the young effeminate noble thrusting a few more times, giving her the rest.
“Did yo-Oh!” Her question is cut short, answered as she feels hot liquid filling her up. She involuntarily clenches around the rapidly dwindling girth, reveling in the lingering feeling as he slowly pulls out. Inside, chaos reigns at almost indescribable levels. The Lord is afloat on a thick sea of cum, stretching nearly as far as his impaired vision will permit. Darkness reigns eternal as the cause of all this pulls out, and he’s left with only the horrific texture of sloshing gooey seas. He tries to stay afloat, but it's too challenging to tread the expansive ocean of burning hot ejaculate. His arms give out, he sinks under, lungs quickly filling with another man's seed. There’s a minute or so of intense panic, unlike anything he’d ever felt previously. Then, a slow drift back towards calm acceptance as the sludge ferments in his lungs. Gently, he drifts away into an unwaking sleep.
Calin flops back onto the bed, panting, his load spent. “My dear, have I properly expressed my love for you? Conveyed that my devotion shines brighter than the stars and moon themselves?”
“All the time, my soppy poet.” Annora smiles, hopping off the bed and taking the opportunity for a full-body stretch. The muscles that had spent so long locked in place feel cramped and compressed. Flashing his muse a thankful grin, Calin lets his read rest upon the pillow as Annora heads off to their lavish washroom, intending to clean off the stink of sex.
There’s an entry to the bath on the adjacent wall of the entrance they’d both so passionately busted through, leading to their well-adorned washroom. The stone tiles were expertly chiseled, and the walls properly smoothed stone. It's not quite as large as perhaps that of the royal castle's chambers, but it's sufficient for Annora. She grins, seeing the bath already drawn as she’d previously requested.
From his spot on the hardened floor, John watches overhead as a flawless long-haired beauty steps directly over him, the turbulence from her moving past rattles him to the core. Each step is so powerful. It takes him a moment to even realize who it is. But then, he gets a wayward glimpse into those hazy eyes. Annora.
He’d never seen his sister quite like this, the last time they’d been naked in front of another was when they’d played in the bath as children. She’d grown, changed. As had he. However, it doesn’t change anything. In fact, it emboldens him, ready to fight for his sister's attention. He’s startled as she dips into the bath, the sound of the waves like crashing ships against rocks. She lets out a sigh, mightier than the giants of long-told fables, but John continues on, heading towards a spot she might, by chance, glance down upon him. The wooden tub of practical design is low enough to the ground. John figures there’s at least a chance of discovery, albeit slim.
The noblewoman lets out a gasp, the water still warm and a shock to her skin. She gets in slowly, ensuring she’s acclimated to the water before genuinely indulging. She glances around at the beautiful washroom, proud of the man she’d fallen madly in love with. Proud of what the two of them had accomplished without the need for a stiff arranged marriage. She even lets her eyes run along the stone floor that she’d been so happy to get placed in, though she spots something off. A stain that housekeeping had missed, or perhaps…
“A bug?” She cocks her head, a flurry of motion coming from this teeny insect her eyes could barely comprehend. In all honesty, it's a miracle she noticed it at all. Perplexed by the odd creature, she lowers a hand, intending to get a better look. “Come here, you little thing. Annora doesn’t bite.” She says with a tender smile.
Two fingers come down around John's diminutive form, tears of happiness leaking from his eyes. He’d done the impossible. Once she took a closer look, the rest of the party-goers would be saved! He’s a hero! A calm washes over his anxious form, and he closes his eyes. It had been a terrifying couple of hours. He’d been trapped in the folds of his sister's gown and thrown across the room. But he used his head, John had always been particularly clever, and he prided himself on that. The chiseled stone floor of the washroom is plain, making his tiny body easier to spot. It had still been a gamble, but it paid off!
Crunch
“Oops!” Annora flinches, surprised as the bug crumples into a smear between her fingers. In her haste and exhaustion from the day's events, she’d put too much power behind it. Looking closely at the stain, there’s a momentary bout of confusion regarding the color. How curious; she’d never seen red guts from a bug before! Rubbing her fingers together, the stain quickly dissipates, and her mind moves past it.
Annora sinks deeper into the bath, letting out a second more drawn-out sigh as she does. The toxins leave her skin, the water cleansing her of worked-up sweat and grime. She dreams of what the future might hold as the night comes to a peaceful close. The perfect ending to the happiest day of her life.