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Paying Rent

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    When he stepped off the elevator, the first thing that surprised Magerold was how cool the air was. Rather, that he was not being boiled in his skin by the proximity of the lava that flowed freely mere feet below the bridge he stood upon. In his fascination, he leaned over the ornate iron railing, peering into the swirling fire. He’d never been this close to anything like the molten metal, paling in comparison even the greatest bonfires summoned by the pryomancers he’d met. Magerold kicked his heels together in joy, struck by the thought that this was the kind of fire dragons breathed. It was then that he realized how tightly he was holding the iron and jumped back in shock, clutching his hands to his chest.

    But the pain never came. After a few seconds, Magerold unclenched his fingers, looking at the unmarred leather of his gloves curiously. The rail was warm, but not hot, certainly not as hot as it should have been. Creeping to the edge of the bridge again, Magerold extended one hand and hovered it over the metal, gauging the heat from a distance before again, carefully, taking hold. It was as if the metal had merely been under the sun for a few hours, not stood above a blazing river of fire. Curiously, Magerold ran his hand along the ridge of it, until he reached one of the brazers crafted intricately in the form of a young boy holding a torch aloft. Upon closer scrutiny, he realized one could just barely make out a blueish sheen in the metal. While not the most experienced with the subject, Magerold had always held a fascination with sorceries, and a glow of joy bloomed inside him upon the realization that this whole place must be enchanted somehow, to keep the lava from taking everything into its maw over time.

    He had been lucky to find this place. Rumors and stories of all sorts of strange and wonderful lands had tickled his ears along his journey, but few were as fantastical as that of the sinking citadel once ruled by an iron lord. In actuality, Magerold had been hoping his ascent would bring him closer to the elusive world of dragons he had long searched for, since up seemed the natural way to go in such an endeavor, but stumbling instead upon a glowing sea such as this was by no means a disappointing turn of events. His path to the enormous doors of the castle was slow and meandering, every detail in the metalwork or detour trail of stones about the lava catching his interest. Any treasure hunter worth his salt would take their time in such a wonderland, but he had a true lust for the unknown that he hardly picked up anything at all, more interested in mentally absorbing the wonders that surrounded him.

    When he did finally breach the interior of the keep, he was surprised at how easily the doors gave. This was not to say that it wasn't an effort to open them, because they were heavy and intended for people larger than the average human being, but despite the straining and sweating that it entailed the hinges were clean and perhaps even greased, as if still in daily use. In fact, everything he had come upon so far had remained clean of rust even after all this time, maintaining their royal luster and sheen. Perhaps this would have been a warning to a smarter man, but Magerold was too engrossed in his awe to make the connection.

    The interior of the castle was stark and bland, perhaps already picked over by looters, though Magerold could see no evidence that anything had ever been here at all. The floors were undusted by footprints, clear of all debris, the only things lining the walls being more ornate iron work inlaid with the stone brick and, by a staircase leading up out of the anteroom, a massive roaring flame. This one was actually hot; Magerold, emboldened by his experiences outside, learned this close to permanently as he skittered up to it a bit too quickly. Years of being snared into traps by the work of his own foolish enthusiasms had honed his reflexes, however, and he was able to jump back before the tongues of fire lapped his clothes. He had to laugh at himself there, echoing quietly along the empty walls along with the flame’s howl, wiping the sweat from his brow with a bit of a quiver.

    “Come on then, silly boy,” he muttered.

    The flame was spat by a large molded sculpture resembling a cow, or bull. It was not quite a match for the kind they bred in Lanafir, but it was still recognizably the same sort of animal. He itched to inspect it closer, but a ten foot radius was all the heat would allow. Despite the spells keeping the temperature bearable, after his scramble about the keep entrance Magerold had grown a bit damp. Before venturing upstairs, he decided, he would find a place to set his pack. Carrying his entire livelihood on his back was not an outstanding effort, but it did limit his movements some, which led to potential death and destruction of valuables in combat situations. Normally he still kept it on him when he could, given the high volume of thieves and other such nogoodniks in Drangleic, but he’d not seen hide nor hair of a living creature since setting foot here, and it wasn't hard to surmise why. While Undead had little need of sustenance, anything living would, and aside from that there was not much around that lent itself to squatting. Provided he didn't stray too far, he figured his belongings would be safe.

    There was a small open chamber to the immediate right of the entry to the keep, down a long hallway. He was attracted to it as soon as he saw it, awed by the great glass windows that framed the room, giving one a gorgeous view of the magma that broiled outside. Apart from these impressive structures, however, this area also was entirely devoid of interest, clean and spartan in its decor. As good a place as any. Magerold unshouldered his pack, stretching til his spine let out a satisfying pop. Given the circular shape of the room, there wasn’t exactly a corner to stuff his things into, but he could set them up just to the side of the door, at least blocking anyone’s view who was not specifically looking. It was good enough – he was jittery with excitement to see what else this strange and wonderful place was hiding from the world.

    Magerold rounded the corner again with a bit of a skip in his step, running face first into a heavily armored chest with enough force to nearly send him sprawling.

    “Good gracious!”

    With a bit of a stumble, he flailed back, but as he did so the knight reached out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him back forward. He cried out, shocked at how strong the man’s hold was, though he shouldn't have been, given their size disparity. He tried to pull away anyways, more out of reflex than any real belief he could pry himself free, turning back the way he’d come only to find the sight of his makeshift camp blocked by another broad black form.

    “N-now wait a moment-!”

    It wasn't just two. With an unnervingly quiet shifting of metal, more appeared around him, all clad identically barring one, whose pauldrons and helmet bore a high, crested appearance, and whose continuance made it clear he was in charge. Magerold realized, perhaps too late, that he was really in a bit of a pickle now. Of course, if they were blind with underneath, they'd had carved him to pieces by now with those lovely curved swords of theirs, surely, but that did not exactly rule out the possibility such violence could proceed either. Even sane men did not tend to take trespassing lightly these days. Still, the one who’d caught him, sure of his inability to escape now, released his wrist, allowing Magerold to back into the center of the small crowd nervously, a wide and awkward smile plastered across his face.

    The men were massive, nearly twice Magerold’s size. Though he didn't have much time to eyeball it, he reckoned he was only just above waist height to the one closest to his front. He smiled shakily, wanting to gesticulate some kind of platitude but unwilling to risk bumping into one of them. The blue-black iron of their armor was immaculately crafted, plates layered upon plates that left almost no room for even cloth to be seen between them, less so flesh, and so he was unable to eek out whether they were hollows or not. Likely not, given that he wasn't being immediately torn to shreds, but it never paid to make assumptions.

    “Hello there,” he swallowed, shifting on his feet, “I take it you're the inhabitants of this, ah, glorious palace?”

    They said nothing, staring at him stonily through the paper thin slats in their helmets. He still had his scythe, strapped to his back, but there were at least five of them here now, far too close and too well armed to even consider trying to wield it against. As if reading his thoughts, the knight behind him reached out and grabbed the neck of his blade, jerking Magerold’s entire body backwards with the force of it.

    “Oh, that! I promise, gents, I didn't bring it here to cause trouble with you, honestly! I’m just a humble explorer, really, not trying to pick fights I can’t win.” He laughed weakly. Another tug nearly threw him off his feet, and the leather harness on his scythe snapped like straw, relinquishing the weapon to the crowd. He turned quickly to face that one, heart in his throat.

    “Really, I only have that for self defense! You know how it is these days, in such uncertain times.”

    Perhaps they did, perhaps not. The knight glanced over the scythe briefly before tossing it into the stairwell behind him, uncaring of the clatter that rang out along the stone walls. Magerold flinched, hunching into himself. They could do anything to him here and he would have no say, whether it was a quick skewering on those cruel looking swords or a slow toasting in the lava. They might even have a jail. He’d never been to a jail, nor seen one, really, as Lanafir tended to largely be free of such miscreants. He doubted there would be trials in a place like this, or that anyone would be interested in his pleas. If anything, that would be the cruelest fate of them all, left to rot in boredom, alone.

    As his mind raced with these possibilities, the decorated knight, a captain of some kind, who now stood at his back, again reached out. This time his gauntlets fell on the belt that secured his pauldron, tugging Magerold back towards him. Dumb with nerves, Magerold again laughed humorlessly, trying to understand what was being asked of him. He looked up into that impassive face, lightheaded.

    The knight tugged at the buckle.

    “You… want this?”

    His supplies. Magerold had not expected that, but supposed he should have. As a merchant and collector of strange and wonderful objects, he was banded with potions and spells and trinkets aplenty, not just what he carried in his pack, lain against the wall in the other room just out of sight.

    “Yes, of course! Take it, if you want. Really, I have more, you don't have to just look at these things,” he babbled, fumbling to undo the buckle with numb fingers, “it’s, well, its a bit of my clothes, but I’ll manage, if you need it more than I do.”

    Stupid, pointless words, but he couldn't stop speaking even when the thing was off and he held it out to the knight like an offering to a god, trying to keep his hands steady. The knight took it, but didn't even look at it as this too was dropped to the floor. Magerold bit his lip and tried not to think about the dent that might have put in his lovely bird. It was an heirloom. Not his own, but to someone, and that was more than sufficient to give it meaning to him.

    “That's not enough?”

    Another hand came from his left, this time only having to give a light tug to the smaller belt on his waist to indicate what was desired. Magerold paled a bit, baffled.

    “Th-these things too, then?”

    As the knights loomed, the hilts of their swords shone keenly in the light from the magma outside the window. Magerold took off his belt.

    “That’s all I have on me, apart from the shirt on my back.”

    He laughed awkwardly, hoping for a reaction that wasn’t violent. This time they did not even take the belt from him, and after a few moments of standing there Magerold uncertainly knelt down and placed it on the floor beside the other. No sooner had he stood that another knight was grabbing bluntly at his back. The touch was gentle enough not to hurt, but Magerold could feel the power in those fingers as they dug at the knot lacing his tunic up.

    “There's nothing more!” he protested, though he did not dare to resist, “I guarantee it! I wouldn't hide anything from you fine gentlemen!”

    Undeterred, his tunic was undone, and removed, Magerold helplessly holding out his arms so it could be slid free when indicated, because what else could he do? Fight them bare handed? If he was lucky this was just some odd hazing ritual, perhaps the men being thorough in ensuring he had no concealed weapon or implement, but Magerold was sure a pat down would have sufficed. His wrists looked like toothpicks next to the knight’s own. It was not as if, even enhanced, he could do much to harm them or their castle.

    Now in nothing but his shirt, hood, and leggings, Magerold felt horribly naked. Though the heat remained balmy at worst, he was sweating like a sinner on Sunday. Someone reached out and snatched his hat right off his head.

    “Hey now!”

    Not that there was any fight to his words. They were crowding him closely, so that all he could see was dark iron, fully black so that he was at least spared the shame of having to look at the reflection of his own strained smile. Another knight began to tug at the lace of his shirt. Before he could again protest, pointlessly, his hood was lifted up from behind, obscuring his vision. With a squawk, Magerold lurched backwards, instantly regretting it as he fell against the steely torso of the knight behind him. It didn’t stop anyone, his hood being pulled off clumsily over his head, knocking his monocle loose so that it hung from the beads that connected it to his ear. Then his shirt, pulled up roughly the same way. Magerold did try this time to keep his arms down, because lord knew where this was going, but all that resulted from this was that the man whose chest he was now flush against gripped his hands with both of their own and lifted his arms with the ease of a man and a doll.

    “Please, sirs, this isn't necessary!”

    Magerold called from within the tangle of his shirt, muffled and hyperventilating.

    “I'll give you anything you want! I've got so many nice things, really!”

    While not needing the advantage, another knight took it, and Magerold really began to panic when fingers curled around the waist of his leggings, so much so that, knowing full well how stupid of a move this was, Magerold swung out a leg in defiance. His kick landed squarely against someone’s shin, ringing out with a leathery whomp as his soft boot did little more than scuff the iron. There was a slight pause, during which Magerold had to bite back a little screech because he may have just broken his toes.

    Then, the undressing continued, and his leggings were, somewhat more harshly than before, ripped down his thighs, exposing him completely. The shirt was pulled from his head and Magerold took a huge breath of fresh air, eyes watering and red, knocking his knees together as if that could somehow conceal his nakedness from the group that now stared down at him. With his pants around his boots, Magerold had nothing on but his gloves, which were still held above his head by the knight who had grabbed them, skillfully maneuvered into one hand during the threading of his arms through his sleeves. It stretched his pale chest out before them, unable to curl up and hide, his legs having to remain on the ground if he wanted to keep standing. The metal on his back felt unnaturally warm, moving ever so gently with the breath of whoever was inside it.

    Magerold swallowed thickly.

    “Alright then,” he said, eyes darting from helm to helm, “now what?”

    One of them reached for him. Magerold twisted away where he was held, but could not escape the glove that grasped his chest. It felt odd and uncomfortable to have metal on his bare flesh, though the environment kept it a pleasant temperature, and the knight’s hand was large enough to wrap slightly around the side of his rib cage, where it squeezed him carefully. Magerold jerked away.

    “Stop this!” He bit back a harsher word. “Please!”

    The knight paused. Not particularly emboldened by the feeling of bone crushing force inches away from his lung, Magerold licked his lips and tried again.

    “I don't know what you think this will get you, but I can tell you now, I’m nobody! I've only got whats on my back, and no one’s gonna give you any more for my safe return!”

    They regarded him.

    “I, I’m already cowed, and I’ll just leave if you want. Wont never come back. If that's what you want.”

    He didn't know what they wanted at this point, but Magerold would say anything to get his leggings back on. Even in the increasingly clammy fork between his thighs, his cock felt a little cold out in the open like this, and his skin was pebbling from nerves every time a slight breeze touched it. The knights did nothing for a long moment, during which Magerold felt like he could either laugh or scream, and then, when the burden of inaction was just about too much, the hand on his side slid around to the front of his chest and, without further ado, cupped his pectoral and gave it a good hearty squeeze.

    Magerold balked, again trying to back up to no avail. He was not a particularly meaty bloke, with barely the muscle on him to swing his scythe, but the knight managed to tease out the flesh around his chest with ease. It wasn't a painful squeeze either, if a bit rough, and Magerold barely choked back a gasp. There was a tangible shift in the mood, as if all the others had been waiting for their leader’s consent, and suddenly hands were on Magerold from all sides. His other breast was grasped between groping fingers, combing through his light tuft of chest hair, massaging the muscle, another stroking down the plane of his stomach, someone, most likely the knight still restraining his arms, getting a good handful of his right buttock. Hands snaked between his thighs, the small of his back, that confusingly warm yet unrelenting metal feeling him out everywhere.

    Lanafir being the friendly place it was, Magerold was no stranger to sex. In fact, he had been rather shocked by the prudishness of the lands outside its borders, having experienced some quite unintentional social blunders in his early days in Drangleic due to his own free and friendly nature. It had been the last thing he was expecting to find here, much less from these massive and imposing warriors, and he had to admit he was not exactly enthused by the idea. Still, anything was better than torture, slaughter, isolation.

    “So this was it!” he nervously chattered, trembling a bit in their hold, “why didn't you blokes just say so?”

    There were so many of them, prodding and caressing him with their huge hands. He couldn't spread his legs much, no matter how they tugged, due to his leggings still being wound around his shins, but they tried anyways, touches just a bit threatening to his pale pink flesh. Just one of these knights could easily destroy him, he thought, panic squirming in his throat, but here were five, at least. One of the hands on his chest tightened its grip, pinching his nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulling on it unforgivingly. Magerold yowled, surprised.

    “P-please, be a bit more gentle!”

    Either to spite him or simply taking cue from their companion, the hand on his other chest copied the action, tugging on his tender dug until Magerold was frantic to twist out of his grip, yanked too and fro by many hands. They released him simultaneously, only to bear down again, circling the reddened skin, flicking him almost mockingly. Fingers dug into his hips, another two hands holding his legs apart, and someone cupped his cock and balls boldly. Magerold twitched, a shock of low arousal igniting to life there. It wasn't so much from enjoyment as it was a fear reaction, as if immediate response to their desires might somehow ease what was to come. Regardless, he was definitely not going to struggle now, not when such a force was tickling along the underside of his shaft with obvious interest. They continued to close in on him, so that he felt like their bodies were the walls of a prison that held him, and Magerold had to do something or he would explode.

    “I'm fine with a bit of a tumble,” he said, biting his lip as his cock was stroked, his modest ass kneaded like dough, “in fact, I’d love to take you gents on, if you’d let me! Just, this is all very sudden! If you'd give me but a moment to catch my breath I could-!”

    He didn't get to finish, his nipples again being pinched and tugged on, someone else forking their fingers around the base of his prick and massaging his mount while he was worked into hardness. It was so much at once, hands all over him, teasing him, tickling between his ribs and down his spine, squeezing at his inner thighs. Before he lost his mind, Magerold tried a different tactic.

    “Oh, do let go of my arms!” he pleaded, trying to look more lusty than scared, “I can’t just hog all the attention!”

    The hand on his buttock slid down dangerously close to his hole. Magerold trembled, looking up into the eyeless faces above him hopefully. Releasing his chest, the knight at the front took a step back. The hands upon his body did not totally cease their actions, but did slow, like everyone was again waiting for a sign. Magerold watched as the captain drew aside his loincloth, undid the drawstring at the front of his leggings, and pulled out a massive, half hard cock.

    Magerold choked out a little whine.

    “I, uh.”

    Holding the hefty length in his hand, the knight grasped Magerold by the shoulder with his other, clearly indicating what was expected of him. Magerold’s eyes were half popped out of his skull. Aside from being nearly the dimensions of his forearm, the knight’s cock wasn’t even fully erect and yet still was laced with thick veins, dark foreskin covering most of the bulbous head. The hand around his wrists released and he nearly fell to his knees, they shook so badly. And this was only one of them.

    “Well, that… certainly is impressive!”

    Still trying to keep a pleasant mask over his concern, Magerold flexed his fingers a bit, pins and needles pricking where the blood was rushing back in. The captain tugged him forward and Magerold tripped over his own feet, stopping just short of crashing into the knight. This could be worse, he tried to reason; they could be shoving him against the wall and spearing him open dry. If he did an adequate job with his hands, perhaps he’d be spared penetration entirely, though the fingers still groping between his buttocks did not inspire much confidence in the theory. Reaching out slowly, Magerold took the fat cock into his hands. Holding it only deepened the realization of its size, and when the knight let go so that it lay entirely supported by Magerold, the weight of it really pulled at his muscles.

    Now, though, he had the opportunity to make a difference in his situation. Magerold gripped the captain’s prick firmly, breathing in through his nose, and began to pump it with all the skill and finesse he had picked up over the years rolling in the hay with his friends back home. He still had his gloves on but the knight didn't seem to mind much, relaxing back and crossing his arms over his chest as Magerold worked him. Even through the leather, he could feel the heat wafting off the knight’s cock like a furnace, like how the magma outside should have felt, and within it the steady throb of a heartbeat. He couldn’t get his fingers all the way round it with just one hand, and though their difference in height made the comparison somewhat difficult, Magerold was able to tell already that if they did spear him the prick would reach up to his belly.

    As terrifying as the thought was, Magerold had to swallow a moan, the knight at his back now taking advantage of having two free hands to really knead at his chest. With all the abuse they’d taken his nipples were swollen and peaked, jutting out between the black metal fingers that cupped him. His own cock was not immune to their forceful pleasuring either, erect between his legs. They stroked him carefully, running down the underside to rub his balls every now and then, and the hands on his thighs crammed in deeper to prod his ass, tickling his perineum. The stimulation was so great that, along with how his head was swimming with panic, Magerold had a hard time concentrating on his work. The captain’s cock was standing proudly now, Magerold peeling back the foreskin so he could dance his fingers along the bare head.

    “There we are,” he warbled, “much more fun when I’m fre-ee!”

    As he spoke, one of the knights slipped a smooth metal finger up his ass. Shocked into a moment of pure instinct, Magerold escaped the only direction left to him: down. He dropped to his knees and the finger popped out of him just as quickly as it had come, everyone letting him go without a struggle. He hit the ground, panting wildly, and immediately the captain ran his fingers through Magerold’s cropped hair and dragged him back up. It didn't quite hurt, but Magerold followed his lead lest it began to, sitting up as high as he could on his knees til he was again mostly upright, staring down the knight’s cock point blank. If it had seemed large in his hands, it was more so now. Magerold tried to recoil but was held fast.

    “Oh no, I couldn't, I-!”

    The captain pressed his hips in, nudging the head of his dick insistently on Magerold’s cheek. Another one grabbed the back of his neck in warning, keeping him pinned in place. When he next opened his mouth, to plead, to gulp down air, the head of the captain’s cock kissed his lips assertively. Even surprised as he was, Magerold managed to not bite down, switching to breathing through his nose as best he could. It did not really fit in his mouth at first, simply rubbing at him, and Magerold again grabbed at the base of it to steady himself. There was no chance of backing out, so he tentatively opened wider, and the cockhead slid a little inside. While holding his jaw open this wide was far from comfortable, Magerold made due, licking at what he could while his hands returned to stroking. The knight didn’t have to push far to have filled his mouth completely, pinning him to the hand on his neck like a bug to a board. Even had he wished to, there was no way Magerold was getting this massive girth down his throat.

    The taste was strong and metallic, masculine but clean. The dry heat seemed to sterilize everything it touched, like the inside of an oven. Prodding the slit with his tongue, Magerold relaxed, as much as he could, into a rhythm, kissing and suckling at the head while his hands worked the greater body of the captain’s cock. While his vision was largely obscured by what was in his mouth, and the loss of his monocle, which still swung from his ear, impairing his depth perception, he could still make out a little of the skin inside the knight’s trousers, swarthy and taut, but still very much human. As terrified as he was, the familiar situation of being on his knees, mouth occupied, was tightening the already uncomfortable grip arousal had on his gut, and this time when the knights came around him, pinching and tugging from all angles, Magerold moaned openly.

    Despite his usual proclivities, Magerold had truthfully not had much carnal contact since he’d wandered to Drangleic. The people here were cold and stuffy, if they were still human at all, and he’d endangered himself one too many times to keep trying for sex. In Lanafir it was common to enjoy yourself with strangers, but here it seemed to be an invitation to violence and mistrust, some kind of stain upon his character. Truthfully, he'd found himself a little lonely as the days passed, wishing for more attention than he was getting. This was not what he'd had in mind.

    Still, his body was reacting as if it was, lewdly arching into their caresses, his eyes growing heavily lidded as he focused on pleasing the cockhead of the captain. He didn't even care when he was pulled into a slightly more exposed position, hips back, legs again moved apart so that their fingers could wriggle between them. This time there was no pretense given and the knights immediately found way to his hole. He was already standing on his knees to reach the captain’s groin level, so it was difficult to maintain his position when they again began to nudge past his defenses, but, seeing the strain in his quivering form, many hands came to support him, easing Magerold back so that he could continue to fellate their leader while they spread his buttocks and got a look at him. Several fingers prodded his asshole at once, not pushing in just yet but getting him ready for it, eagerly testing the resistance of his muscles.

    Moaning sloppily around his mouthful, Magerold tried to look behind himself despite being held still. Every time it became clear his nerves were getting the best of him, one of them would grasp his cock, or pinch at his chest, soothing him into compliance with a few deceptively gentle strokes. There was no denying his responses were encouraging them on, every now and then enticing a louder whine or groan from his throat. His jaw was already becoming sore from being stretched open, glistening strings of drool trembling from his lips where he could not close them properly around the massive dick. At least this time, when one finger did push hard enough to slip inside, it was greased. Magerold could not see where his belts lay, if they had used some product of his or something of their own one of them had concealed somewhere, but soon the thought was driven from his mind as the hard metal breached in further, deeper than his own fingers could have reached by a good half.

    Thought he did love to visit his pleasures there, it had been long since Magerold had found a decently safe bed to explore himself in, and the sensation of finally being spread open again was one so intense that he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Tears were prickling at his lashes from the strain of his ministrations on the captain, and now, as a second finger, seemingly bigger than the last, forced its way inside him, they fell freely, overwhelmed. Magerold had to take one hand away from the shaft of the great cock in his mouth to grasp at the captain’s pants, steady himself somehow. They were not careful with him, wriggling inside his hole, seeking out every point of pleasure they could along his soft insides, working in tandem to open him up. Were they all looking at him, seeing how red he was? He snuffled, trying to breathe around snot and sex, jumping away from the probing but held fast.

    They were really hungry for him, too. The two fingers were from different hands, twirling around one another in an excruciating dance, a third already trying to find its way inside along with them. They spread him wide open, so that Magerold’s muscles struggled to close, so that they could really see his twisting pink innards. He began to struggle back, reaching behind himself blindly to grasp at their wrists and try to tug them out, but their arms may as well have been solid steel compared to his. Magerold choked, losing his focus on breathing right, throat squeezed shut by fear’s cold grip. After a moment where they let him struggle, he was finally released enough to pull himself off the captain’s dick, gagging and sputtering for air. They didn't let him fall, coming to support Magerold by the chest and taking the advantage to further abuse his nipples as they did.

    “P-please,” Magerold blubbered, tugging the captain’s trousers as if he could crawl away from the hands opening him up, “you have to, I need a moment to rest, I…”

    He couldn't finish, hiccuping wetly as someone began frigging his cock, again with slickened fingers. He was burning all over, sweat droplets tickling down his spine, precum dribbling from his dick head in a steady, viscous stream. The three fingers alone were at least as much width as an average cock, and while it did not exactly hurt any more than his more intended encounters it was definitely more intense, all of them sliding in and out at their own paces, doing their best to stretch him to his limit. When a fourth began to test him, too soon, Magerold tried to jump away.

    “It’s too much! Have some mercy on me!”

    They did not, and soon he was stuffed as they desired. Wider than a prick, but not moving like one, pressing him out at odd angles, unrelenting against his prostate. All of the knights but the captain now squatted around him, each with a finger up his ass, sharing the sensation of his clenching with one another. The captain was not satisfied himself, having given Magerold long enough to ponder his circumstances, and he clumsily grasped the side of Magerold’s face and pulled him back to his cock, rubbing his cheek against the base. Magerold panted open mouthed against the shaft, whining again when the knight tugging at his cock wriggled their blunt fingertip against his dripping slit.

    “Oh please,” he muttered, “please, please!”

    But he was already mouthing the captain’s dick again, licking across the bulging veins like he was starving. The captain patted his hair, reaching down with his other hand to pull his pants down further, freeing his balls, pushing Magerold towards them. He took one into his mouth without complaint, sucking and licking at the fiery skin through his tears, the captain’s heavy cock resting on his head. His testes were huge too, bigger than any Magerold had seen on a humanoid, and he knew they’d flood him if he was forced to swallow. He tried to look up at the captain through his sticky lashes, as if he’d see anything new, but was blocked from seeing anything by the knight’s prominent chest plate. Another tremble of pleasure wracked his bones as the knights behind him poured more of whatever they were using as lubricant between their collective fingers, cold against his hot, abused flesh. When they pumped into him again, the wet spatter of their movements reached even Magerold’s ears through the thrumming of his own blood.

    He was going to cum. Magerold could feel it in his stomach, tight and hard. His cock was throbbing in the knight’s hand, spewing ample precum to make their movements smooth and easy. Every push and prod inside his ass was another spike of pleasure through his chest, nailing him down, helpless. Magerold blindly mouthed the side of the captain’s shaft, encouraged on by a strong hand stroking through his hair, shaking his hips.

    “Oh, gents, I,” Magerold broke off with a cry as they pulled out, only for two fingers to slide in side by side and pull his asshole open wide horizontally, and another hand coming down to squeeze his balls. He came, half collapsed into the captain’s crotch, pumping his hips into their stroking as his cock spurted quick white streaks across the dark stone floor. Magerold was not normally so overwhelmed by orgasm, but they were relentless in their ministrations, still rubbing as his thighs and stomach, watching his open hole clench around their digits.

    He relaxed into the hammock of their arms, dazed.

    “That was,” he breathed out, “well, goodness.”

    They weren't done with him though. There was more clanking behind him, something which had been drowned out in his spasms. Magerold was too slow to look back, just barely registering it before the fingers still holding him open shifted a bit and then something large and hot kissed his asshole. Magerold’s eyes flew open.

    “Wait a minute!”

    He scratched at the captain’s thighs, heart in his throat.

    “I couldn't- that's more than I can bear, I’m not-!”

    The captain curled his fingers into Magerold’s hair in lieu of stroking it, pulling his head back to the head of his cock harshly. In between frightened exclamations, Magerold’s mouth opened just wide enough to be plugged. He reared back, but the knights had already amply proven their strength. With several choked off cries for mercy, Magerold flung his arms around, tried to kick out, and then the cock at his back began to push in.

    It was just as massive as the one in his mouth. They'd done a decent job preparing him, lubricants displaced by the pressure spurting out around the bulbous head, but it was still a mighty stretch. The knight slid in inch by inch, slow but ceaseless, and Magerold’s eyes briefly rolled up as the girth of it ground down across his prostate. The burn was agonizing, and the pleasure was even worse. It reached so deep inside him he thought he could feel it in his stomach, rubbing every nerve, opening him like a raw wound. The knight had both hands on Magerold’s hips, holding him steady while the others continued to pet and placate him, a firm and domineering grip that urged Magerold into submission wordlessly, and, despite himself, he responded. The fight left him, and Magerold remained frozen, gripping tightly to the captain for dear life, sore jaw once again fitted around the captain’s dick. Though he knew better, at this moment Magerold felt as if every inch of his body had been stuffed, all of it an erogenous itch he was realizing needed to be scratched.

    When his eyes again began to droop, and his tongue tentatively set to work on cleaning the precum that had accumulated in his time away from the captain’s cock, the knight set into his first thrusts. His movements were perfectly ordered, the kind of timed discipline one might expect from a trained soldier, and they swept Magerold off his feet. Or rather, they would have, were he not held so firmly in their arms, half standing now, bent fully horizontal so he could suck the captain’s prick off while he was pounded. The knight’s plate slid together nearly soundlessly, perfectly crafted petals of iron that fitted almost like an insect’s shell, and this allowed Magerold to clearly hear the wet slap of his asshole being reamed wide and deep, the muted clap of skin on skin when the knight bottomed out and their balls swung together. He was reeling, barely moving his tongue and lips now as the force of their coupling drove the captain’s cock inside him anyways, his own spent dick perking to attention still where it bobbed, leaking, between his thighs.

    His submission excited them more. Magerold could hardly see anything around his mouthful and the wild disarray of his bangs, but he could hear them, clasps and buttons undoing, pulling their own cocks out as they watched. His stomach throbbed with fear, but it felt more like ecstasy at the moment, the blunt head of the knight’s dick dragging out again and every ridge pulled at his insides, swiping over his prostate again and again. He was boiling in the middle of all their hands, dripping with sweat now, moaning breathlessly. Magerold had some stamina to boast, but he shouldn't have been able to get hard again so fast, shouldn't have already felt the way his blood churned, hungry to cum again.

    The captain pulled Magerold off his cock, holding him just inches away from the gleaming wet head as he took himself to palm, stroking along the fat length so that Magerold could see it. He nuzzled where the captain let him, working his tongue under the ridge of foreskin to taste the delicate hidden flesh there, kissing his fingers when they were close enough. Strings of drool beaded his throat like diamonds, eyes ringed red and dewy, the flush of sex spreading all down his chest. Crying out sharply, Magerold bounced in place as the knight’s rhythm took a sharp increase in speed. He tried to worm out of the captain’s grip, silence himself again over his dick because he most definitely could not keep his mouth shut any longer, but he was held fast, their fucking echoing down the great halls of the keep til the knight delivered a particularly brutal thrust and painted Magerold’s bowels with his cum. He hadn't expected it so soon, or perhaps he’d lost track of time – regardless, Magerold was taken by surprise, trying to pull away from the searing that filled him, but the knight held him fast, pumping his hips throughout his orgasm, milked on by Magerold’s wild clenching.

    It felt like the knight poured out a centuries worth of jism, such that when he finished Magerold was bloated by it, stuffed to the brim. There was no relief allowed him; the moment the knight finally pulled his spent piece free, another one pushed between them, his already slickened cock bullying into Magerold’s asshole before he’d even had time to breathe.

    “H-hold on! Wait, i-!”

    As usual he was ignored, his plea turning to a deep groan as he was again filled. The stretch was easier this time, but no less intense, every nerve inside him alert and alive with sensation. He tried to kick out but his feet were hardly on the ground anymore, and whatever momentum he could achieve anyways was dulled by the jelly that had replaced his bones. Seeing his legs kicking, though, the knight hunched over him and wrapped their arms behind each thigh, hoisting Magerold up sharply with little effort, so that his back straightened and pressed flush to the new knight’s breastplate, and his knees nearly to his own, legs spread wide and open for all the others to get a good look.

    Magerold himself was finally able to see something beyond cock and his own muddy tears for the first time in a while, and his heart stuttered at the sight of all of them standing there, pricks in hand, stroking themselves lazily as he was positioned on his current partner’s lap. The strength it must have taken to hold a grown man like a doll was immense, a fact that did not escape notice by his errant cock, which pulsed, fully visible to all. When the knight began to pull out, Magerold’s head dropped to his chest, mouth open silently, and he himself saw what they all were fixated on clearly, his dark red prick, his asshole stretched bright where the wide girth dragged down out of him. Then, crouching slightly to get the angle right, the knight fucked into him hard. He wailed like a whore, bounced up and down on the knight’s cock with no ability to control himself at all, a warm and wet toy.

    At this angle too the pressure of the first knight’s cum inside him was great and heavy, unable to escape with the fat cock currently plugging him. He wasn't sure if he was going to cum again or vomit, kicking his heels about uselessly, shaking his head back and forth as he warbled out pleas and apologies and begged for mercy he wasn't even sure he wanted at this point. He was totally exposed, mostly nude before the small crowd, fucked so full he was sure the size of it was showing in his stomach, stretched nearly as wide as a human fist, and yet his balls were drawing tight again, precum spewing from the tip of his cock like a fountainhead with each bounce upon his partner’s groin. He wasn't even touched this time, unable to take himself to hand as his arms flailed for purchase on the knight’s pauldrons at his back, but his dick was throbbing so hard it hurt and every torturous grind across his prostate worsened it, wonderfully.

    His ass was being fucked into a new shape, it seemed, a hole purely built for sex. Magerold burned with mortification at the thought, that he’d never go back to normal now, that every subsequent partner would remove his trousers only to see a wide and reddened cunt between his legs, desperate to be filled again as it was now. Would he ever be able to sit, after this, without being reminded of the knights who had reamed him out to fully, reformed his body into their plaything? Every time the one fucking him pulled out, dragging their fat cockhead to nearly escaping him entirely, he could feel his inner lining drag with it, so tight around this grotesquely huge length that every fold and wrinkle was rubbed raw. Then, when he plunged back inside, how Magerold’s ass sucked him in, eager for every inch, molded around it as if tailored specifically to the knight’s size. He would no longer be a man after this, just a hole, gaping and begging to be filled. He didn’t want that, he didn’t, but at the same time the idea was turning him on to such a degree he felt his prick ache with it.

    “Oh, Lord,” he cried, squirming where he was pinned, “I'm gonna burst!”

    As if in response, the knight sped his movements, Magerold’s ass swallowing him up smoothly every time, the sound it made obscene. Sensing what this meant, Magerold thrashed vigorously, looking up at the blank mask of the knight’s helmet over his shoulder with a wide, imploring gaze.

    “Stop! Not inside! I cant take anymore, please!”

    Even as he said this, Magerold’s stomach tightened, pleasure lancing up his gut, the pressure of being filled and rubbed in every which way, so thoroughly conquered, pushing him dangerously close to the edge. He managed to wrestle one of his arms from its grip on the knight’s shoulder to reach between his own legs, as if he could somehow stop what was coming, brushing against his leaking cock with a jolt. His fingers framed his ass, shaking as they rubbed the stretched rim around where the knight continued to drive into him furiously, slick with sweat and lubricants and his own cum, groaning at his own sensitivity. Unable to help himself he brushed his cock again, more boldly this time, then grabbed it, biting his lip.

    When he did, his ass tightened hard, the pleasure magnifying, and that was all it took for the second knight to release his load. Magerold frigged himself as best he could in the awkward position, a sort of strangled cry ripping past his grit teeth as more hot jism poured into him, expanding his already overfull bowels, accentuated by the knight slamming them together and holding them there, grinding deep inside him as he emptied himself. Magerold himself could not hold back, another thick shot of his own cum splattering up his chest, not as forceful as the first orgasm but twice as satisfying, everything a haze of heat and hands and the thrumming in his veins. His head lolled on his neck.

    The knight pulled out suddenly, breaking free with a wet pop. Magerold’s abused asshole gaped open and the flood of semen in his belly gushed loose, prompting another horrified cry. Being filled so completely had felt good, but the release of that pressure was indescribable, something Magerold had never in all his years, alive or dead, experienced like this, and what had been a comforting tide of an orgasm sharpened into a harsh wave, crashing through him with cramping force as his ass pulsed with each crude spurt of cum. It was the most disgusting, shameful thing Magerold could ever remember having done and if he didn't stop cumming he was sure he would pass out, spasming uncontrollably in the knight’s strong hold.

    Another knight stepped forward and he was passed between arms, his thighs being allowed to drop to a more natural position as he was now pressed chest to chest with the newcomer. Cum stained and exhausted, Magerold wrapped his arms and legs around the warm metal as prompted without a complaint, trying to shake the ringing from his ears.

    “That was,” he swallowed, another spurt of cum escaping him, “How can you be so cruel? What did I ever do to you?”

    He didn't get an answer and he hadn't expected one, only speaking still because he felt like if he stopped he’d lose himself completely. His ass was still unable to fully close, twitching when the knight holding him cupped his buttocks in both hands and massaged them in a way that could only be mocking of his sorry state. No matter how good his nature was, Magerold could not bear to try and smile again, quaking as yet another heated cock pressed between his legs.

    “You cant, please! I've had enough, I’ll, I’ll die!”

    The knight rocked his hips, rubbing the length of his prick across Magerold’s hole, coating it in the various fluids that dribbled out. Magerold cringed away from him, the softened, reddened gape of his ass overstimulated and sore.

    “Just let me go!” Magerold begged, “I can’t stand it!”

    Lining himself up, the knight let the tip of his cock kiss Magerold’s winking hole for a moment, savoring the anticipation.


    He thrust in hard and Magerold went silent, the air ripped from his lungs. That awful pleasure was still there, but so was the pain, now accompanied by the sensory hell of two forced orgasms in his system. He felt tenderized inside, pounded out into the shape of their cocks, but even still this new knight’s dick seemed as inescapably huge. His voice was hoarse from all the hollering, but he still managed to vocalize his distress as he was bounced in place, smearing cum all down the front of the knight’s previously clean black armor where they touched.

    As he was used, the fourth of the bunch, tired of waiting his turn, approached from behind. He wrapped his arms around Magerold’s chest, pushing in so close that his own hot length brushed Magerold’s thigh, caressing whatever he was able to grab at. Magerold flopped between them like a doll, nearly sobbing at the thought of having to service an endless line of handsy soldiers. The knight fucking him slowed his pace, silently conferring with his companion over the top of Magerold’s head. He paused, halfway inside, which was almost a relief for a moment. It did not last; the insistent pressure of the second knight’s cock against his thigh shifted, and then he felt what by now was the very familiar nudge of it at his stretched asshole. Panicking, Magerold scrambled at the knight holding him, trying to climb up out of his arms or something, because there was no possible way he could handle them both at once.

    “Oh, god, no!” he cried, the hands on his ass cheeks growing tighter, spreading him more so the other could wedge himself closer.

    “You’ll kill me! I’ll die!”

    A finger teased at the rim of his hole, managing to force in along side the cock already occupying him, creating a little gap. Magerold bucked away, but there was nowhere to go. His eyes were wide and red with crying, teeth gritted so hard they squealed against one another. The knight’s broad cockhead pushed and pushed, and he found himself giving, even as he clenched down hard, trying to force him away. He was so slick with cum and lube, his muscles so exhausted, that despite his best efforts he could feel himself distorting beyond what he would have thought possible, pulled out by the finger more to try and assist, and then, all at once, the tip popped inside.

    Magerold jolted, yowling, but it was in and even though it hurt unbelievably he was intact, somehow. The knights pressed in closer around him, so that he was more upright between their chests, and the second slowly began to push in deeper.

    “I’m dying!” He wheezed out, white hot pleasure spearing through his body, “I’m gonna die, please!”

    When they were both fully seated, the two knights sat a moment, stroking his chest and back like it could mitigate the throb in his ass. Each of their dicks was pulsing with its own beat, something Magerold could feel intimately, every breath they took shifting them just enough to keep his oversensitive innards alive and prickling with new sensations. The knight at his back pressed his hand to Magerold’s belly, and Magerold rocked back in shock as he looked down and saw how he was, just barely, showing their size. When the knight rubbed across the bulge, he could feel it, doubling the tension in his bowels.

    “Don't touch it! Don't!”

    He couldn't stop the knight though, who gleefully continued to squeeze at his stomach, his other hand drifting up to pinch at Magerold’s right nipple. He squirmed on their cocks, gasping raggedly when they began to move inside him. The knights knew the limits of his body, despite torturing him this way, and they started slow, pulling out and pushing in opposite of one another, so that, while his entrance remained spread around them both at all times, only one reached his deepest point at a time. Their cocks slid together easily inside him, wet and eager, rubbing both him and one another off. While neither of them could really get very deep, accounting for the space they had, nor create the loud and lewd slapping sounds his earlier fucks had, his ass was so wide and so wet that every thrust into him produced an awfully obscene squelching.

    Presiding over the scene was the captain, still stroking himself leisurely as he’d watched his men take the intruder. The little man was clearly no threat to them or the Iron Keep, but no creature walked the halls freely. For a looter, he was pretty, though, particularly so now as he gasped and cried on his knight’s dicks, hole stretched out wide and red, a slathered in cum. The captain’s balls twitched up a bit, anticipating the final moment when he himself would have his time with the criminal, but as any good leader did, he treated his men’s needs first. The little taste he’d gotten was good, if lackluster in effort, though he could not quite blame the human, given how his small mouth hardly fit around his cock. He would learn, though, just as he would learn to take two at a time without his constant begging. If he really wanted to prowl the Keep, so be it, but it would not be as a free man, and he would find leaving was no longer an option.

    The knights picked up speed, sawing into Magerold brutally. Even though he was spent beyond another ejaculation, every now and then his cock weakly spurted a dribble of jism, their vigor squeezing every last drop from him. He felt like they’d reached the deepest part of himself, like he’d been hollowed out as a space for cock and nothing more, even though he could visibly see the proof that wasn’t so. Magerold’s body was just a ball of nerves, nothing but his racing heart, burning lungs, his chest where it was still tugged at horribly, and the endless ache in his ass, his prostate, his pathetically drained dick. Though he couldn't cum again, there was still a building sense of something in his backside, like they were forcing the very nature of his being into a new shape. He’d always enjoyed being fucked, but to orgasm anally was another thing entirely, and each thrust drove the anticipation higher.

    “Stop, I can’t take any more! I cant cum again!”

    They were losing their earlier pacing, coming closing and closer to matching the rhythm of their fucking. Magerold kicked at the knight his legs were wrapped around, beating his plate with his balled fists.

    “You're killing me!”

    Their cocks caressed one another inside him, driving up into his ass together as one, brutally punching his heart into his throat. His prostate felt swollen and bruised, crushed by their combined girth. He could really feel them in his stomach,, underneath the knight’s hand, a little but solid bump. The pleasure was eating him alive. His hips rolled with their movements even though he wasn't actively working them, like his body had become so accustomed to this rough sex that it was naturally falling into the rhythms. As his head slumped into the knight’s chest before him, Magerold managed to make out, through his tears, the captain’s form, proudly watching his defilement. His voice was lost in the sounds of sex, but Magerold tried to say something to him, as if he’d be saved by the first one to have violated him here.

    “Please,” he mouthed, “I'm going to cum again, I can’t, I don't want to, please!”

    Feverish and desperate, he flopped in their arms, fucked into such a total state of submission that he couldn't even bear to fight again as a particularly powerful thrust made his vision blank for a moment. They were getting close, their chests heaving as they rutted, petting at one another nearly as much as Magerold, despite being fully dressed. With a great heave, one of them shuddered inside him, beginning to cum, and it set the rest off like dominoes.

    Magerold’s back arched, crying out loudly as their frantic movements battered his ass even as first one, then both of them began to empty their balls into his gut. Again he was filled, hot and heavy in his stomach, rubbing against everything, and he couldn't take it. The pleasure in his ass crescendoed, something not quite like cumming and yet altogether more powerful. He was shaking, waves of orgasm hitting him over and over, brain blank, and still they fucked him in tandem, until every last drop of their jism was spent, spurting out between their cocks where he overflowed, coating the floor below. It was far, far beyond too much. The last thing Magerold was aware of was the captain coming closer, cock in hand, and then the two holding him pulled out together, unleashing another torrent of cum, and with a quick, wild jerk, Magerold, still seizing in orgasm, passed finally, thankfully into unconsciousness.








    Magerold waved goodbye to the knight, leaning back against the wall as he watched them leave. Despite his initial misgivings, business had not been bad. Certainly, visitors were not an every day occurrence, and he did often have to listen to the worrying sounds of battle echoing throughout the Keep, but as long as he remained in his little room, he didn't have to think much about it. Really, it could have been worse, all things considered. He was set up nice and comfy, and no one ever dared attempt theft of his wares. If he was lucky, he might get to watch, through his towering windows, an earlier customer rushing about the ramparts above, performing daring feats and dodging arrows. He'd never admit it to his captors, but he was always rooting for them, at least a little.

    Sometimes, they'd even let Magerold himself out onto the higher floors, though not far, allow him to examine the fascinating structure of the castle and its artifacts. He hadn't been permitted to keep any, of course, but at this point Magerold wasn’t expecting to. He had tried, a few times, to make it back across that first bridge, to the bonfire there, but it became quickly apparent that was not allowed. It could be worse, though, something he reminded himself of daily. He was cleaned and cared for, never wanting for shelter any longer, never having to worry about leaving his possessions unguarded or being mugged in his sleep. Provided he payed his dues, everything was arranged for him here, safe, tidy, never fully alone.

    He jumped a bit when a clash rang out from the stairwell down the hall, followed by another, the beginnings of an intense battle he wouldn't know the victor of until later. It was not his business to know, that had too been made clear the few time’s he’d rushed to assist. No, he was to sit, and wait, and eventually someone would come for him. And they always did.

    So Magerold sat and tried not to hear the clash of swords, the grunt of pain that was distinctly familiar as his most recent customer. He sat, even though his backside ached, and his fingers itched to reach for his blade and try to do something, anything, to prevent the inevitable. He sat and he smiled out at the waves of molten iron that bubbled brightly around his room, and he didn't think about anything.