'Urghh…' Her mind recoiled in panic. 'Can't… move… Too weak…' Nekari lay panting, her breaths coming in shallow, painful gasps. The scent of stale semen and her own sweat filled her nostrils, choking.
Then, a new sensation erupted, a deep, gnawing hunger, but not for food. Her stomach convulsed violently. A guttural retch tore from her throat, and she curled onto her side. Her body heaved, over and over, in brutal, involuntary spasms.
With each seizure, thick, white fluid erupted from her mouth. Not bile but pure semen.
It poured out in copious ropes, splattering onto the floor. The taste was cold and faintly sweet, utterly alien. Her throat burned from the force of it, her abdominal muscles screaming.
'N-no…' she thought, tears streaming from her eyes, mingling with the fluid on her cheeks.
'S-stop… please…' But her body ignored the plead. It kept purging itself, expelling the vast reservoirs of seed that had sustained her during the endless torment.
Between violent heaves, she glimpsed her stomach. It had been bloated full before, distended almost to her ribs. Now, it visibly deflated after each surge, flattening towards its normal contours.
The retching seemed to go on forever, a torrential flood from within. Finally it subsided, leaving her gasping weakly.
A thin trail of white still dripped from her lips. Nekari wiped her mouth by the back of her shaking hand, smearing more of it across the cheek.
She collapsed back onto the cold stone, utterly spent. Her body felt hollow, empty, and impossibly heavy at the same time. The pool of semen beneath her was considerably larger, warmed by her body heat and the fresh expulsion. She lay in it, a broken thing, trembling.
'I'm… I'm free…' the thought came again, weak but persistent. 'But… what now? Where… where am I? Where are the others?…'
The questions swirled in her hazy mind, but she had no answers, only the overwhelming cold and the agony of her ravaged body.
'The others…' Her mind clawed its way past the fog of pain. 'Hanry… Miriel… Rolfe… They came for me… They were fighting… right?' Panic, sharp and sudden, seized her heart.
Groaning, she forced herself onto her hands and knees. The world spun again, but less violently this time. She crawled, slipping in the thick fluid, towards where she remembered the entrance being.
Her hopes plummeted when she saw the giant double doors were sealed shut. There was no handle, no keyhole or visible mechanism.
She slammed a weak fist against the cold stone. "No! No, no, no…" Her voice was a raw, desperate whisper. "Locked… I'm locked in…" Tears of frustration on her cheeks. 'They can't get in… and I can't get out…'
Despair threatened to consume her. She forced herself to breathe, pushing down the rising panic. 'Calm down… I have to think… there must be another way…'
She crawled back to the center of the room, near the chest. The sight of the overflowing treasure – gold coins, glittering jewels, ancient artifacts brought a fresh pang.
'So much…' she thought, 'Enough to buy his freedom… and safety…'
With trembling hands, she reached for her scattered clothes and gear. The leather was stiff and heavy, completely saturated with cum. The fabric felt clammy and unbearably sticky.
"Fuck!" she hissed, recoiling when she lifted the vest. The smell of stale semen was overpowering. "Disgusting…" She tossed it aside. Her clothes, boots all were equally ruined.
There was no way she could put them on. The thought of that cold, congealed fluid clinging to her skin made her stomach lurch again.
A wave of despair washed over her. Naked. Alone and trapped.
She took one last, lingering look at the treasure chest. The thought of leaving it was agony, but she had no choice.
"Guess I'll have to come back for you later, shiny," she muttered hoarsely. "Don't go anywhere."
Steeling herself, she stood. Her legs wobbled dangerously but held. She took a shaky step, then another, leaving sticky footprints while walking away from the glittering treasure, deeper into the unknown darkness of the dungeon.
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Inside the cramped, stifling darkness of the wooden solitary cell, Hanry slumped against the wall. His only remaining clothing was a tattered tunic, filthy with sweat, dirt, and worse.
He hugged his knees to his chest, shivering in the dank air despite the oppressive humidity. His body ached from the recent beating, bruises blossoming across skin.
The heavy wooden door was locked from the outside, the small barred window near the ceiling letting in a faint sliver of flickering torchlight from the corridor beyond.
'God damn it all,' he thought bitterly, his head bowed.
'How did everything go so wrong? It was supposed to be easy!' His mind raced back to the arrogant confidence they'd had setting out from the capital.
'B tier job,' he scoffed silently. 'They said the dungeon was declining. Just a few stragglers. Clean and sweep. Good pay, easy work. Ha!'
A harsh, humorless laugh escaped him.
'Instead… instead we walk straight into a nightmare. Hobgoblins in full armor! Organized and tactical!' He remembered the ambush, the chilling intelligence in their leader's eyes, the way they had hunted them like prey.
'Not just hobgoblins. Those other things… the spiders… the slimes…' He shuddered at the memories of the horrors they'd faced.
'We were fools! Stupid, arrogant jokers!' He slammed his fist against the packed dirt floor, a futile gesture sent pain shooting up his arm. 'They played us! Lured us in!'
His thoughts turned to his companions, his friends. 'Rolfe… Nekari…Emerick. are they even alive? Did they escape? Are they locked away somewhere else in this cursed place?' The not knowing gnawed at him worse than any wound.
And Miriel… The image of the Saintess, kind, gentle girl, in the clutches of those beasts sent a wave of cold terror crashing through him.
He knew what monsters did to captive women. The tortures, the violations… He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the horrific visions. 'Not Miriel. Please, not her. She's… she's so kind. She deserves better…' His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. 'I have to find her. I have to get her out. I have to get us all out…'
But the cold reality of the cell pressed in on him. Weak, beaten, disarmed and imprisoned.
'How? I don't even know where she is! I don't even know where I am in this maze!'
Despair threatened to crush him.
'The bounty… it came from the Royal Family! How could their information be so wrong? Was it sabotage? Were we set up? But why? Why us?'
His mind spun in frantic circles, grasping for any sliver of hope or explanation. There were none. Only the crushing weight of failure and the terrifying unknown.
'I have to get out and save them… I have to…' The thought looped endlessly, growing more desperate after each repetition.
He pressed his forehead against his knees, the rough wood of the wall cold against his back. Tears of frustration and fear pricked at his eyes. 'Please… someone… anyone… help us…'
The sudden, sharp bang against the door jolted Hanry from his miserable thoughts. He flinched violently, heart hammering.
Then a voice, smooth and sultry as smoke, drifted through the heavy wood. "Wake up, handsome. It's time we had a little chat."
Hanry scrambled to his feet, pressing his back against the far wall, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Who… who's there?" he demanded, trying to sound bold but his voice cracked. "What do you want?"
The door swung open, revealing a figure that stole Hanry's breath away. Standing framed in the flickering torchlight was a woman of stunning, almost unreal beauty.
She was tall and slender, her curves accentuated by a form-fitting black bodysuit glistened with a subtle sheen. Her legs seemed to go on forever, clad in fishnet stocking and thigh-high boots of dark leather.
But it was her face that truly captivated him – sharp, striking features framed by long, cascading waves of blonde hair seemed to glow even in the dim light. Her eyes, a piercing, crystalline blue, locked onto his, pinning him like a butterfly.
She stepped into the cell, moving with a languid grace that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. The door clicked shut behind.
"Relax," she purred, her voice a low thrum vibrated through the air. "I'm not here to hurt you." A feline smile curved her full lips.
"Not yet, anyway." She leaned back casually against the closed door, the movement causing her impressive bust to strain against the suit's constraints. "I just need to ask you a few questions."
Hanry's mind reeled. 'Who… what… is she? How can a human woman move so freely through a monsters infested dungeon?' He tore his gaze away from her captivating face, trying to gather his wits.
As he did, his eyes widened slightly. Beneath the taut fabric of her suit, he could make out a distinct, rounded bulge low on her abdomen.
"Y-you… you're pregnant?" he blurted out, the question escaping before he could stop himself. It seemed incongruous with her aura of danger and control.