Fiction: The Orgy Pit

In the war between Good and Evil, sometimes Evil wins.

Nash Nighthammer had answered the call to fight the invasion of Witch Warriors. Newly named, he wished to prove himself on the fields of battle. A mere 18 years old, he sacrificed his strong body and mighty warhammer to the cause of Good. With a hundred other heroes, he had struggled against an army of Witches at the Northern Pass. The heroes stopped the invading army and in that blood soaked pass, they decimated the Witch forces. Unfortunately, the survivors of the hero army were captured and dragged back to the cursed Witch Queen’s Palace for torture and death.

Nash strained against his chains to look down at the darkness below. Small fires illuminated a thriving mob of flesh. Sounds of pain and pleasure drifted out of the pit, as well as the smells of sex and filth. Nash was exhausted and having a hard time concentrating. He had been dragged a hundred miles in chains after a day long battle. For some reason all he could think about was sex.

The Witch Queen looked at her captives. “It’s a shame that only you twenty mortals survived the journey back.”

A hero standing beside Nash, Mondar Bravestrike, gave a rousing speech about defiance and endurance of the pure. Nash wasn’t listening because he was too busy looking at the magnificent bare breasts of the Witch Queen. There was a red birthmark between her breasts and he was trying to figure out the shape reminded him off.

When the Mondar’s speech was done, the Witch Queen continued.

“Below you is the Orgy Pit. Years ago, an entire Coven was cursed with Lust Everlasting. They fuck and they fuck and they fuck. We throw them captives and they include them to their orgy. When a man is of no use to them anymore, they rip him to shreds and use his body to pleasure themselves.”

One of the heroes, Ghor Piousheart, gave a short prayer about the virtues of chastity. Nash didn’t hear the prayer because he was almost certain the birthmark on the Witch Queen’s breasts looked like a hand.

“Your prayers are useless here!” the Witch Queen said. “I consign you all to the Orgy Pit where you will live your lives as sex slaves to the Cursed Coven! Guards, start by throwing in the idiot who keeps staring at me!”

Nash Nighthammer took a good long look at the Witch Queen’s breasts as he was dragged to the pit’s edge. Yes, it was a hand mark. It was shaped like someone had laid a hand right between her breasts. Nash wondered what it would feel like to lay his hand between such proud witch tits.

The Witch women threw Nash in. His long fall was barely softened by the bodies he fell on. The bottom of the pit was too dark for him to see anything but there was no mistaking the feminine hands that touched his face, his broad chest and his ass. The chains that bound him were made of thick steel but the shadow hidden women broke them apart like they were soft underclothes. He was truly among the damned.

A breast was pressed into his face while a mouth wrapped around his cock. A finger slipped into Nash’s ass and he learned quickly how to unclench. Nash’s powerful body was womanhandled down to the filthy ground and pinned there by demonic lust. Every inch of his body was kissed, sucked, bitten or ridden by the cursed witches.

Elsewhere, Nash could hear the shocked cries of Ghor Piousheart as the brave priest was being molested. Nash tried to rise and help the noble man but the witches would not let him. There was too many of them and each was as strong as five men. He was a slave of the Orgy Pit now.

A month later . . .

Nash Nighthammer fucked the witch. He slammed into her with a fury that would have shocked the gentle serving wenches back home. Nash hammered at the witch’s cunt with his cock so that her cries of pleasure would keep away the other cursed witches. It was an Orgy Pit but if you fuck the right witches hard enough, they’ll claw the eyes out of anyone who comes near.

The position of the sun told Nash it was noon. He looked around and saw that the other heroes had noticed it too. One by one they lifted their heads towards the edges of the pit.

Food rained down on them. Hunks of meat, strange potatoes and the occasional phallic shaped vegetable splattered down onto them from the overturned cooking pot. Nash heard the taunting laughter of the guards above. They sometimes tried to brain a hero with a heavy mutton bone.

A chicken leg fell beside Nash. He kept fucking the witch as he reached. Never ceasing his pounding, he ate the meat as fast as he could. As long as the insane witch was getting her cunt fucked, she didn’t care what he had in his mouth.

He did it a little too well for she had her climax. She pushed him off and eight other witches pounced on him. They clawed at him, fighting over him as they sought his cock. His hands were crammed into wet holes while his head was dragged to a waiting pussy.

Nash would eat no more this day unless it was pussy.

Two months later . . .

It was night and Nash had collapsed from exhaustion. A witch was riding his sleeping leg while sucking his cock. He slept.

He dreamed of Mondar dying earlier in the day. The greatest hero Nash had ever seen was ripped apart by the cock hungry witches. His head was used as a sexual toy while his arms were used to beat the other heroes into fucking faster. His dismembered cock was passed around until it was useless.

Nash slept through the nightmare. He was too tired to rouse from his rest.

Three months later . . .

The rain fell into Nash’s waiting mouth. The water was cold but it helped wash some of the filth from his body.

The witch Nash was fucking didn’t notice the rain. All she cared about was the manhood Nash had in her ass. She scratched at the mud as Nash pounded into her.

Nash drank the rain. The cold water tasted good but it couldn’t wash away the taste of pussy. It couldn’t wash away the taste of his own blood from where eager witches had split his lips with fierce kisses. It couldn’t wash away the taste of sweat which seemed to physically hang in the air.

He looked up at the sky and wished he was a cloud.

Six months later . . .

Nash Nighthammer tried to push through the orgy. Ghor was exhausted and Nash could see the man would die soon. Nash knew this because he had seen so many other heroes in the Orgy Pit die. Their faces all had the same look of despair before they died.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Ghor croaked.

A wall of breasts and pussy held Nash back.

“Be strong!” Nash yelled. “Just wait till night, they slow down when the moon rises! You can rest then!”

Ghor lifted his head from the tits that were suffocating him. “I can’t. The Gods will take me soon. When I reach the lands of the Fallen, I will tell them you are coming!”

Nash watched as Ghor collapsed. Ivory thighs wrapped around Nash’s waist and held him down to the ground. Pinned, Nash tried to see through the crowd to Ghor. He couldn’t see the priest but he heard the sounds of his body as Ghor was ripped apart. Nash fucked harder, screaming his rage and anger as he fucked harder than he had ever fucked before. The crazed witch women moaned in happiness.

Nash was alone now.

10 months later . . .

The witch screamed her orgasm and fell off of Nash’s cock. The look of satisfaction on her face almost made her look human. Nash used her hair to clean his sticky cock.

It was dark but through the moonlight he could see all of the witches of the pit. Most of them laid still, exhausted from the personal service Nash had given them. The sex cursed witches were immortal and supernaturally strong but their endurance was not limitless. They could be tired. They could be sated if only for a small time.

Nash watched as some of the witches crawled towards him. Their long black hair almost made them invisible in the darkness of the pit but the heavy sway of their ivory breasts reflected the moonlight. He counted eight sets of heavy breasts. The night before, only ten had the strength to rape him.

His cock hardened. His ability to stay erect was the only thing that kept him alive this long. The hammer of flesh was his only weapon here.

“Come to me, whores and sluts,” Nash muttered. “Come see what a real man has for you.”

The witches jumped on top of him. Nash tried to fight them but they were too strong and he was just one mortal man. He screamed his curse at them but his mouth was silenced with a pussy sitting on his face.

One year later . . .

The Witch Queen awoke. There was something wrong about her bed chambers. She pulled back the flayed skin that she used as a bed cover. The candle of human fat was missing. She looked into the darkness of her room and saw nothing.

But she smelled something. It smelled of sex, filth and sweat.

A shape moved in the darkness. She felt a hand on her birthmark between her breasts. The hand pushed her back into the bed while another hand parted her thighs.

She felt the iron heat of a male against her leg.

“Who dares!” the Witch Queen cried.

“I dare,” Nash Nighthammer said.

“You?” she said. “The slave of the Cursed Coven? How did you escape the Orgy Pit?”

The man’s hand moved over her breast and squeezed. She cried out at the harshness of his grip. The Witch Queen trembled as the hot steel of his manhood moved up her thigh.

“I fucked them,” Nash said. “I fucked them all and climbed over their exhausted bodies to freedom. I did the work of a hundred men and I fucked them. And do you want to know something, Bitch Queen?”

The Witch Queen shuddered. The lips of her sex parted as he slammed into her. She arched her back as his heat filled her.

“What?” she gasped.

“I’m not done fucking tonight,” Nash Nighthammer said.