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"120", "thumb_large_y": "120", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "pools": [], "description": "Commission by Gabriel LaVedier, featuring Niamh, who is (TM) WizardPerson and Gabriel LaVedier.\n\nDubious consent/consensional-non-consent warning.\n\nCommission me:\n[url=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScmIlbjX6IRvqY5aOn0qErZxfvI2LCFVJV9ac1q6KNS3ys-Aw/viewform]https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScmIlbjX6IRvqY5aOn0qErZxfvI2LCFVJV9ac1q6KNS3ys-Aw/viewform[/url]\n\nSupport me: [url=https://www.patreon.com/rolandguiscard]www.patreon.com/rolandguiscard[/url]\nAll social media here: [url=https://www.linktr.ee/rolandguiscard]https://www.linktr.ee/rolandguiscard[/url]\n\n[url=http://www.postybirb.com]Posted using PostyBirb[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Commission by Gabriel LaVedier, featuring Niamh, who is (TM) WizardPerson and Gabriel LaVedier.

Dubious consent/consensional-non-consent warning.

Commission me:
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScmIlbjX6IRvqY5aOn0qErZxfvI2LCFVJV9ac1q6KNS3ys-Aw/viewform

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Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "\tNiamh worked her way slowly through the brush, thankful of the four mooks in front of her cutting the path. Her small height made traveling through uncut brush a pain in her more than ample ass, especially when passing through the sort of thorny brambles that Demi-humans seemed to grow on purpose around their properties. Somehow, maybe it was their thick fur, maybe it was their animal nature, the brambles didn’t seem to bother them, but they did a damn good job of keeping out thieves like her. Combined with the large guard presence outside Krookbrook Mansion, and this whole endeavour had been a serious shit-show that she was so, so eager to finally be done with.\n\tIt had started over a month ago. A courier had found her and delivered a mysterious message from and unclear dispatcher. Following the clues and puzzles, she finally found out what was being asked. Apparently, one wizard wanted some magic thing called the Orb of Owallah from a Demihuman noble, and was willing to pay five thousand gold for it. Normally, she would have slapped him for putting her through all this bother over what was surely a personal grudge, five thousand gold notwithstanding. But the Mad King’s new tariffs and taxes had brought up the prices of everything from booze to blue sugar, and she was desperately short on blue sugar.\n\tShe had presumed that this would be just like any other heist, excepting the larger than normal payday. She was the queen of smash-and-grab, using her small stature and callipygian body to get out of trouble through either sympathy or sexuality, depending on what her captor was most receptive to. Of course, it was best to avoid capture in the first place, and her alternating gang of faceless mooks, recruited from assorted brothels, bars, and pleasure houses made sure that the axe never fell on her neck specifically. There was always a long string of attractive but desperate women willing to help her relieve some rich nobleman of his ill-gotten gains, and if they ended up in the dungeon or at the end of a rope for their crimes, well, all the more for the rest. \n\tBut of course it hadn’t. Recruiting fall girls had been easy enough at first, indeed, two of her fellow thieves were ones she’d worked with before, one in an act of vandalism and arson on behalf of some business interest, and the other in an attack of opportunity on an elvish princess’s tax collector. To her surprise, all four of them had even been on board when they collectively discovered how incredibly well guarded the Krookbrook grounds were, with the whole area patrolled by wolfborn demi-human nobles day and night, their keen eyes, ears, and sense of smell making the area impassible for the casual assailant. \n\tThey had poked and prodded after that, first by trying to sneak in by feigning a late night delivery, which had resulted in them being politely but firmly turned away, then by pretending to be poor landless peasants in search of work. They’d actually been hired, but to their dismay, found out that in this household, scullery maids actually worked in the scullery, polishing pots and pieces of armor rather than the genitals of their supposed superiors. Her perfectly pale white skin had been wrinkled and bruised by the end of it, her manicured nails cracked and broken, and her fingers too sore to hold a lockpick, much less whatever she made off with. One of her recruits had quit on the spot, saying she didn’t get into this life to work hard, but to work less.\n\tSomehow, though, her departure, and the fact that there was now an even split of one thousand gold apiece, plus whatever small items they could snag, had been enough, and after another week of creeping and peeping, they’d finally figured out a few holes in the mansion’s defenses. Sure, the demihuman wolves patrolled the fields and guard houses, but the actual grounds, those near the building itself, were the exclusive domain of pigmen, no doubt chosen for their intimidating size and massive musculature. Also the fact that their immense weight made long patrols painful probably helped.\n\tMost thieves would have charged in at that point, buying into the stereotype that pigmen were dirty, brutish, dumb creatures who could do little more than swing a heavy polearm or physically blockade a door. But Niamh knew better. Back in her days as a woman of the night, she’d found that many pigmen would pay a great excess for her appearance, probably because her thoroughly stacked ass and ample tits, jammed onto an under-four-foot frame, reminded them of a miniaturized version of their own females. She had been disgusted at first, expecting to be overwhelmed by a filthy, smelly creature with barely enough brains to know what it was doing. But instead she’d found the pigmen to be dangerously intelligent, fastidiously clean, and smelling more of soap than the road. Their unsavory reputation came more from the fact that their bodies lent themselves to dirty, dangerous work that even other Demihumans would turn down, along with a thick splash of racism, and the pigmen exploited this expertly, weaseling higher pay out of their ignorant and racist overlords.\n\tAs such, she knew better than to just hope that her brains could overwhelm their brawn. Instead she’d taken the time to watch them from the woods, making good use of her moss-and-twig styled outfits to observe them for hour after hour. They were smarter than most gave them credit for, sure, but pigmen were also creatures of habit, their lives made comfortable by doing the same thing day after day, hour after hour. This left gaps she knew she could exploit. Sections of woodland would go unmonitored for a few hours each day. Guards could be counted to pass a certain window at exact times. Though she’d left more than a few stands of her messy red hair in the branches than she’d liked, and her long goblin-esque ears had gotten a few scrapes from the brambles, she’d managed to discover a window of over an hour where the Lord’s treasure room was completely unguarded, as was the entire wall where the window beneath it was located. \n\tAnd as they finally cleared the path, that’s exactly where they were. Lana, a wood elf, taking the lead, using her magic to move aside bushes and brambles without a sound. Following her was Ch’Grath, a feline demihuman, whose expertise in climbing swiftly and silently was the next part of the plan. Sure enough, just as she’d demonstrated so well in that previous heist, she ascended the sheer side of the stonework mansion as though she was climbing a ladder, trailing a rope behind her. Faranth, an mostly-human of indeterminate mixed parentage, was up next, her skills with magical tools necessary to remove the window and its iron bars without alerting the entire building. Carefully she worked her way up the rope, then began her work, quietly casting spells and working an enchanted knife, cutting through glass, steel, and stone as though it were hot butter. Once removed, the pieces were carefully tossed to Truka, a hulking large orc, who caught them one by one in her cloak, setting them on the ground silently. They had practiced this just the night before, relieving a local church of a particularly ugly and racist depiction of mixed-breeds like herself and Faranth. But even then Niamh was impressed at how well they worked together and how smoothly it all came off.\n\tLikewise, Niamh was impressed at the self control the girls managed to express once they got into the actual treasure room. She had expected the usual - assorted piles of gold jammed into overflowing chests, various treasures haphazardly stuffed into corners or jammed into alcoves, with nothing approaching order to be found. After all, rich people never worked for their money, and were flippant about its care, excepting when the “undeserving” helped themselves to some of it. This made thieving easy, since the rich had no idea what they had, and the departure of some but not all of the gold would not be missed. But this treasure room was different. Gold locked in standardized chests with declared values on the outside, similar to a tax collector or bank. Treasures sorted and labeled on shelves and carefully stored in pigeon holes. Several books lay on a nearby desk, no doubt charts of accounts recording the arrival and departure of wealth, laying a trap for any who sought to line their pockets.\n\tFortunately for Niamh though, she had no pockets, only a loincloth and chest covering made from tattered cloth that could only generously be called a garment. Playing poor had always helped her win sympathy, and having her ass out so far passers by could see the Celtic tri-spiral on her right ass cheek helped her turn a serious sentence into a fine and a fine into some sucky-fucky behind bars. Hell, sometimes it just let her turn sucky-fucky into a stolen purse or two.\n\tGoing straight to the books, she found that, as she’d guessed, they were a combination of inventory and two-table accounting, of the sort she’d become casually familiar with through listening, pilfering, and otherwise making the lives of the rich and famous slightly less comfortable. She brought over Faranth, who, following Niamh’s meticulous instructions, began to magically forge some unknown accountant’s handwriting, make it appear as though the items they were stealing had simply been sold long ago. Niamh helped herself to the orb, obviously, and it was quickly agreed that, with such a bounty before them, they should just help themselves to five thousand gold apiece rather than trust Niamh to deliver the orb and split the bounty. After all, who would notice twenty five thousand gold go missing in a room with millions, especially when it was all perfectly accounted for in the written records?\n\tThe master of the house, that’s who. Without warning, and with each girl holding one or more condemning items in their hands at that exact moment, the doors of the chamber flung open, casting blinding, almost daylight, levels of brightness into their night-sighted eyes. Almost blind with a combination of surprise and fear, none of them managed to make it to the window or the knotted rope leading down to freedom before massive, powerful arms grabbed and subdued them.\n\tAs Niamh’s eyes adjusted, she saw a massive demi-human standing in the door, flanked by half a dozen pigmen guards, the other half-dozen pinning the girls to the floor and relieving them of their stolen goods. Cursing, yelling, and screaming were the norm, but everyone knew they were absolutely fucked. Not only had they been caught in the act, but by the nobleman himself, whose testimony would hold up in court better than the finest lawyer’s lie to the contrary. \n\tSaid nobleman was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe and a floppy conical sleeping hat, having no doubt been risen from his sleep to see the spectacle. Indeed, his bathrobe was undone, revealing a physique more suited to a gladiator or strongman than a nobleman, and the sort of oversized genitals that Niamh would normally charge “hazard pay” to handle. He was some sort of canine, although rather than the rough and threatening look of most wolf folk, he had the refined look of a domesticated dog, complete with carefully trimmed curly hair on his head and each of his ears. Indeed, if he looked like anything, it was one of the carefully manicured and maintained poodles that noblemen kept as personal hounds. She instantly hated him and wanted to fuck him in equal amounts.\n\t“Well well well! It seems that my guards were right when they suspected that some furless vermin - and one furred one - were snooping around and looking to relieve me of my valuables.” He walked forward, grinning with delight at the trapped females, his huge dong bouncing comically in front of him as he walked, literally asserting dominance with each strut. “Good thing you laid a trap for them, Captain, making them think you’d actually leave this place unguarded for a few hours. Well, you know what to do with them now. I’ve got a mistress to get back to!”\n\tWith that, the master of the house turned away, not even daining to drop his name or ask for theirs. She knew what this meant - no trial, no handing over to the local justice, no opportunity to beg, bribe, or fuck her way into a lesser (or no) sentence. These pigmen were going to take care of her personally. And whatever that meant, it was making Ch’Grath sob. She swallowed hard, suddenly afraid for the first time in a long time. What kind of horror /was/ Demihuman justice? Now she wished she’d asked.\n\n***\n\n\tNiamh had awoken with a serious crick in her neck, the result of having to sleep on a hard stone floor without so much as her co-conspirators to lie on. Really, it had been more like a stone alcove, had she not been so small, she would not have even been able to lie down, a fact clearly demonstrated by the weak legs and painful gate of her compatriots. They’d all been stripped, their clothing roughly cut off and their belongings, what little they were, removed. Faranth had been gagged, and the blue glow emanating from her manacles let Niamh know they were magically sealed. Likewise Ch’Grath had been de-clawed and her face jammed into a gag that let her neither open or close her jaw fully, instead forcing her fangs behind a large metal ring where they remained useless.\n\tNiamh was still wearing her moss bracelets, clearly the fact that they had neither magic nor resale value had “saved” them, but she was more than a bit embarrassed to be marched out wearing nothing else besides them and her shackles. Sunlight her her pale skin harsh, making her wonder if she’d be out long enough to be sunburned. What did they intend anyway? Surely Demihumans couldn’t just put people to death without trial, even the Mad King wouldn’t allow that kind of vigilante justice, not when he preferred it to be a “reward” for his demented followers. Plus he hated Demihumans, and wouldn’t even give them regular rights, much less special ones.\n\tAs her eyes adjusted, she saw five stockades in front of her, each one with some sort of adjustable table or bench behind it, clearly intended to hold the prisoner horizontally. She and each of her compatriots were marched up to one, then unshackled and roughly shoved into them, locking her head and hands in front, her ass in back, her stomach firm to the surprisingly well padded frame beneath her. Her feet couldn’t touch the ground, leaving her ass and pussy totally exposed, and leaving her blushing with embarrassment despite herself. Just what the hell were these crazy Demihumans going to do with her? Why all this trouble just to hurl insults and rotten fruit?\n\tIt was when the pigman who’d secured her smacked her ass with a delighted grunt that she finally realized what was up. Were they…Going to fuck her? If that was all they had wanted, they could have just given her a fair offer at some brothel, and besides, getting fucked with no choice in the matter wasn’t /quite/ the punishment for her than it would be for others. Somewhere behind her, she could hear the nobleman, his stiff-upper-prick of a voice ringing out a well-practiced and performed speech to his staff about the crimes these thieves had committed, that they had tried to fuck him and so he was going to give them just punishment, and on and on and on. The son of a bitch sure loved to hear himself talk, and though Niamh couldn’t see him, she imagined he had some overstuffed outfit with a huge codpiece as well. Typical rich asshole. Pussy and drugs are all he cares about. And he wasn’t even coming down to get some himself.\n\tHer theory vis-a-vis fucking was confirmed not soon after the bastard finally shut up, as she could hear her compatriots yelling, screaming, and moaning as they were penetrated by the guards. She didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. They’d all been some form of prostitute many a time in their lives, and having semi-consensual sex was just part of life on the bottom in this kingdom, regardless of sex or gender. The answer was to roll with it and try to enjoy it, and besides, wasn’t this better than hanging from the end of a rope or having one’s head put on a spike? At least this way they grin and bear it for awhile and, in all likelihood, be let go.\n\tMuch to her surprise, she found that the pigman didn’t just jam his length in dry, or any other sort of rough play she’d come to expect from her sexless and untalented marks. Instead he took his time, licking, kissing, playing with her pussy using his fingers and snout. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was enjoying this, seeing it as an opportunity to genuinely get laid, rather than just some duty to literally fuck over someone his boss didn’t like. She tried to hold back, tried to conceal her pleasure, but once she let out an bit-too-loud moan, it was all over, and she turned almost as red as her hair with embarrassment at the fact she was enjoying this.\n\tIt seemed she wasn’t the only one either. Her compatriots were moaning with embarrassment and arousal now as well, none of them wanting to admit they were having a good time. She realized now what was going on, and its insidious nature as well. Many a young thief had marched with head held high and cries from a sympathetic crowd accompanying him to the gallows. Many a cruel punishment had turned a cutpurse into a mutilated martyr, an example for reformers and rebels to hold up as proof of the Mad King’s evil design. This was different. This was humiliating. This was embarrassing. This was going to make everyone who saw her know that yes, she was a thief, but more importantly, she was a slut, a horny brood sow who couldn’t control herself. And there was literally nothing she could do about it.\n\tAlthough her small stature meant that most dicks were of rather large size to her, this particular guard must’ve had a mother who prayed very specifically to very certain gods, because he was gifted to the point of being blessed. No wonder he’d taken his time loosening her up with fingers and tongue, he couldn’t have gotten it inside of her otherwise. She let out a moan of surprise and delight as he worked it in, even more humiliating since she desperately wanted to cover her mouth, to make him stop. No wonder Ch’Grath had been gagged so that her mouth would be open, this sadistic nobleman wanted everyone on his manor to hear her moans of pleasure, as well as those of her compatriots. Indeed, when she opened her eyes and looked forward, there they were, dozens and dozens of Demihumans of all species and sorts, probably more than even lived here. Dressed in their finest, they were waving fans and enjoying chilled drinks, tittering and giggling at how their supposed inferiors were actually enjoying getting fucked. It filled her with hate. And, though she was loathe to admit it, arousal. This really WAS punishment.\n\tBehind her the pig guard was really hitting his stride. She could feel her massive rear smack again and again against his ample gut, her ass cheeks jiggling each time. When it seemed they weren’t jiggling enough for his standards, the guard gave her ass a firm slap, reddening her ass cheeks and making her body tremble and twitch all the more. Humiliation didn’t even cover it. How was she getting so aroused at this? And why? It wasn’t even like this was her first time having sex in front of an audience. But it was the lack of control, the lack of will, that really broke her. Along with the fact that this guard, whatever his faults, knew how to FUCK.\n\tShe had expected this to be some sort of rough and insulting affair. A combination of painful dry fucking and heavy cursing. But no, this was proper sex, the kind that, while not typically shared between two lovers, certainly was shared between two horny people on a nightly basis. This was passion, this was lust, and this guard was fucking her like he meant it, not like he was just dumb and horny. Waves of pleasure assaulted her from her pussy, smashing into her like a storm on a rocky sea. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth opened wide and began to drool, even as she could feel the soreness on her ass cheeks from the pound of pubis into her jiggling hindquarters. She tried to hold back, tried to bite her tongue, but the words just came out. “Fuck me!” she said. “Fuck me!” If she could have moved her hands, she would have covered her mouth, utterly broken at the thought that she’d said such a thing spontaneously.\n\tThe guard grunted with agreement, snickering and replying to her in his own language. “Bitch, I’m going to put a pig in you. Is that what you want, you stupid slut? For me to knock you up? I bet it fucking is. I can feel it.” He emphasized each sentence with a powerful smack of his hand, leaving bright red handprints on her ass, and sending waves of mixed pleasure and pain through Niamh’s body. “And if I fail, well, plenty more men will get their chance today. You’re not leaving until you’re well-bred, you whore.”\n\t“Yes! Fuck me! Put a baby in me!” Part of her mind was disgusted at her own words, but the rest had long since left all semblance of reason. She was overcome with desire now, wanting nothing but to be fucked, be knocked up, be a slave to her own biology. She felt a rush of heat and warmth as the guard behind her finished inside, followed immediately by disappointment. She wanted more, her body craved it, and judging by the noises around her, so did her compatriots. They were truly fucked at this point, and none of them cared who knew it or how bemused and entertained the crowd was by their descent into this debauchery.\n\tShe didn’t even have time to complain before two more guards, another pigmen and some sort of canine, both came up to her and worked themselves into her from both ends. The canine was in the back, the pig in front, and both worked her with the sort of expertise and determination normally reserved for royal courtesans. Indeed, if she’d paid for this experience, she’d consider it gold well lost, provided it had originally belonged to someone else. How and why the owner of Krookbrook manner had trained his men in this manner was a mystery her sex-addled brain couldn’t solve, but instead she just sucked and fucked, her massive thighs and ample ass jiggling with each thrust as the canine behind her picked up her legs in order to spread her wider and get a better angle for himself. She wanted to cry out, to express her pleasure, her sexual delight, to warn them of her impending orgasm, but with a mouthful of dick all she could do was moan. And moan she did, her cries of pleasure muffled by a combination of flesh and spittle as her tongue and lips went to town on the length between her lips. She almost wished they’d undo the stocks, if only so she could get her hands on the thing and work it even harder. If there was a heaven, this was it. Or a hell. She couldn’t be sure.\n\n***\n\n\tBy the time the sun had set, she was beyond exhausted. They had paused only to provide her with enough food, drink and rest to get her going again. In total she had been getting dicked from both ends for what, six? Seven? Maybe even eight hours in total, from when they had dragged her from her cell into the light? She couldn’t say. \n\tSome of the crowd had joined in, pulling down their pants and doing what they wished, although given their lack of talent compared to the guards, she found that both she and the others mostly just tolerated them, with the exception of one feline who must’ve had a very happy wife at home, if his skill at cunnilingus was anything to go on. Niamh had long since lost count of how many partners, how many orgasms, how much sex she’d had since the morning, but she didn’t care. Part of her wanted more, but the rest wanted rest. When the stockade was unlocked and she felt the soft hands of some pretty vulpine girl working ointment into her neck and wrists, she presumed that rest and freedom were now hers. She had, after all, endured her punishment, and with so many witnesses, she was no doubt not going to live it down. Hell, she’d have to move two kingdoms over just to outrun the rumors and get enough plausible deniability to be a respectable thief again.\n\tShe looked up to see the vixen, clad in flowing noblewoman clothes despite her clear status as a mistress or whore, caressing the Master of the House. She still didn’t know his name, but if possible, she both hated and wanted to fuck him even more than yesterday. He had somehow fit her with a punishment that was actually going to stick, in a way that a flogging or execution never would. Had he stolen her money or her life, he would have taken something she hardly valued. But her pride - that she would miss dearly, and would likely never get back.\n\t“Well well well, it seems my little thief has gotten something other than what she intended.” The nobleman looked like he was trying to hold back boisterous laughter, and Niamh’s face once again turned almost as red as her hair. This guy had a talent for humiliation, that was certain. “Put her in the pillow room for a full day to recover, and make sure she is fed and washed.” She blinked a bit. Pillow room? What the fuck was that? “After all, she has six more days of ‘punishment’ to endure. And bring more poets and gossips tomorrow. I want to be sure word of her deeds spread far and wide - ideally enough to make her consider a more honest line of work - on her back!”\n\tThe Master laughed much too loud for such a baffling non-joke as he walked off, the vixen girl joined by some sort of exotic bird woman with hips that bespoke magical cosmetic surgery more than any kind of respectability. Firmly, but without malice, hands gripped her and carried her away. Six more days of this? Part of her was excited, sending pulses of warmth and arousal to her now well-fucked pussy. But the rest of her, hooh-boy. Maybe running three kingdoms over wasn’t enough. Maybe she’d need to put an entire ocean between her and “The Ballad of Niamh the Whore.”\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "\tNiamh worked her way slowly through the brush, thankful of the four mooks in front of her cutting the path. Her small height made traveling through uncut brush a pain in her more than ample ass, especially when passing through the sort of thorny brambles that Demi-humans seemed to grow on purpose around their properties. Somehow, maybe it was their thick fur, maybe it was their animal nature, the brambles didn’t seem to bother them, but they did a damn good job of keeping out thieves like her. Combined with the large guard presence outside Krookbrook Mansion, and this whole endeavour had been a serious shit-show that she was so, so eager to finally be done with.
\tIt had started over a month ago. A courier had found her and delivered a mysterious message from and unclear dispatcher. Following the clues and puzzles, she finally found out what was being asked. Apparently, one wizard wanted some magic thing called the Orb of Owallah from a Demihuman noble, and was willing to pay five thousand gold for it. Normally, she would have slapped him for putting her through all this bother over what was surely a personal grudge, five thousand gold notwithstanding. But the Mad King’s new tariffs and taxes had brought up the prices of everything from booze to blue sugar, and she was desperately short on blue sugar.
\tShe had presumed that this would be just like any other heist, excepting the larger than normal payday. She was the queen of smash-and-grab, using her small stature and callipygian body to get out of trouble through either sympathy or sexuality, depending on what her captor was most receptive to. Of course, it was best to avoid capture in the first place, and her alternating gang of faceless mooks, recruited from assorted brothels, bars, and pleasure houses made sure that the axe never fell on her neck specifically. There was always a long string of attractive but desperate women willing to help her relieve some rich nobleman of his ill-gotten gains, and if they ended up in the dungeon or at the end of a rope for their crimes, well, all the more for the rest.
\tBut of course it hadn’t. Recruiting fall girls had been easy enough at first, indeed, two of her fellow thieves were ones she’d worked with before, one in an act of vandalism and arson on behalf of some business interest, and the other in an attack of opportunity on an elvish princess’s tax collector. To her surprise, all four of them had even been on board when they collectively discovered how incredibly well guarded the Krookbrook grounds were, with the whole area patrolled by wolfborn demi-human nobles day and night, their keen eyes, ears, and sense of smell making the area impassible for the casual assailant.
\tThey had poked and prodded after that, first by trying to sneak in by feigning a late night delivery, which had resulted in them being politely but firmly turned away, then by pretending to be poor landless peasants in search of work. They’d actually been hired, but to their dismay, found out that in this household, scullery maids actually worked in the scullery, polishing pots and pieces of armor rather than the genitals of their supposed superiors. Her perfectly pale white skin had been wrinkled and bruised by the end of it, her manicured nails cracked and broken, and her fingers too sore to hold a lockpick, much less whatever she made off with. One of her recruits had quit on the spot, saying she didn’t get into this life to work hard, but to work less.
\tSomehow, though, her departure, and the fact that there was now an even split of one thousand gold apiece, plus whatever small items they could snag, had been enough, and after another week of creeping and peeping, they’d finally figured out a few holes in the mansion’s defenses. Sure, the demihuman wolves patrolled the fields and guard houses, but the actual grounds, those near the building itself, were the exclusive domain of pigmen, no doubt chosen for their intimidating size and massive musculature. Also the fact that their immense weight made long patrols painful probably helped.
\tMost thieves would have charged in at that point, buying into the stereotype that pigmen were dirty, brutish, dumb creatures who could do little more than swing a heavy polearm or physically blockade a door. But Niamh knew better. Back in her days as a woman of the night, she’d found that many pigmen would pay a great excess for her appearance, probably because her thoroughly stacked ass and ample tits, jammed onto an under-four-foot frame, reminded them of a miniaturized version of their own females. She had been disgusted at first, expecting to be overwhelmed by a filthy, smelly creature with barely enough brains to know what it was doing. But instead she’d found the pigmen to be dangerously intelligent, fastidiously clean, and smelling more of soap than the road. Their unsavory reputation came more from the fact that their bodies lent themselves to dirty, dangerous work that even other Demihumans would turn down, along with a thick splash of racism, and the pigmen exploited this expertly, weaseling higher pay out of their ignorant and racist overlords.
\tAs such, she knew better than to just hope that her brains could overwhelm their brawn. Instead she’d taken the time to watch them from the woods, making good use of her moss-and-twig styled outfits to observe them for hour after hour. They were smarter than most gave them credit for, sure, but pigmen were also creatures of habit, their lives made comfortable by doing the same thing day after day, hour after hour. This left gaps she knew she could exploit. Sections of woodland would go unmonitored for a few hours each day. Guards could be counted to pass a certain window at exact times. Though she’d left more than a few stands of her messy red hair in the branches than she’d liked, and her long goblin-esque ears had gotten a few scrapes from the brambles, she’d managed to discover a window of over an hour where the Lord’s treasure room was completely unguarded, as was the entire wall where the window beneath it was located.
\tAnd as they finally cleared the path, that’s exactly where they were. Lana, a wood elf, taking the lead, using her magic to move aside bushes and brambles without a sound. Following her was Ch’Grath, a feline demihuman, whose expertise in climbing swiftly and silently was the next part of the plan. Sure enough, just as she’d demonstrated so well in that previous heist, she ascended the sheer side of the stonework mansion as though she was climbing a ladder, trailing a rope behind her. Faranth, an mostly-human of indeterminate mixed parentage, was up next, her skills with magical tools necessary to remove the window and its iron bars without alerting the entire building. Carefully she worked her way up the rope, then began her work, quietly casting spells and working an enchanted knife, cutting through glass, steel, and stone as though it were hot butter. Once removed, the pieces were carefully tossed to Truka, a hulking large orc, who caught them one by one in her cloak, setting them on the ground silently. They had practiced this just the night before, relieving a local church of a particularly ugly and racist depiction of mixed-breeds like herself and Faranth. But even then Niamh was impressed at how well they worked together and how smoothly it all came off.
\tLikewise, Niamh was impressed at the self control the girls managed to express once they got into the actual treasure room. She had expected the usual - assorted piles of gold jammed into overflowing chests, various treasures haphazardly stuffed into corners or jammed into alcoves, with nothing approaching order to be found. After all, rich people never worked for their money, and were flippant about its care, excepting when the “undeserving” helped themselves to some of it. This made thieving easy, since the rich had no idea what they had, and the departure of some but not all of the gold would not be missed. But this treasure room was different. Gold locked in standardized chests with declared values on the outside, similar to a tax collector or bank. Treasures sorted and labeled on shelves and carefully stored in pigeon holes. Several books lay on a nearby desk, no doubt charts of accounts recording the arrival and departure of wealth, laying a trap for any who sought to line their pockets.
\tFortunately for Niamh though, she had no pockets, only a loincloth and chest covering made from tattered cloth that could only generously be called a garment. Playing poor had always helped her win sympathy, and having her ass out so far passers by could see the Celtic tri-spiral on her right ass cheek helped her turn a serious sentence into a fine and a fine into some sucky-fucky behind bars. Hell, sometimes it just let her turn sucky-fucky into a stolen purse or two.
\tGoing straight to the books, she found that, as she’d guessed, they were a combination of inventory and two-table accounting, of the sort she’d become casually familiar with through listening, pilfering, and otherwise making the lives of the rich and famous slightly less comfortable. She brought over Faranth, who, following Niamh’s meticulous instructions, began to magically forge some unknown accountant’s handwriting, make it appear as though the items they were stealing had simply been sold long ago. Niamh helped herself to the orb, obviously, and it was quickly agreed that, with such a bounty before them, they should just help themselves to five thousand gold apiece rather than trust Niamh to deliver the orb and split the bounty. After all, who would notice twenty five thousand gold go missing in a room with millions, especially when it was all perfectly accounted for in the written records?
\tThe master of the house, that’s who. Without warning, and with each girl holding one or more condemning items in their hands at that exact moment, the doors of the chamber flung open, casting blinding, almost daylight, levels of brightness into their night-sighted eyes. Almost blind with a combination of surprise and fear, none of them managed to make it to the window or the knotted rope leading down to freedom before massive, powerful arms grabbed and subdued them.
\tAs Niamh’s eyes adjusted, she saw a massive demi-human standing in the door, flanked by half a dozen pigmen guards, the other half-dozen pinning the girls to the floor and relieving them of their stolen goods. Cursing, yelling, and screaming were the norm, but everyone knew they were absolutely fucked. Not only had they been caught in the act, but by the nobleman himself, whose testimony would hold up in court better than the finest lawyer’s lie to the contrary.
\tSaid nobleman was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe and a floppy conical sleeping hat, having no doubt been risen from his sleep to see the spectacle. Indeed, his bathrobe was undone, revealing a physique more suited to a gladiator or strongman than a nobleman, and the sort of oversized genitals that Niamh would normally charge “hazard pay” to handle. He was some sort of canine, although rather than the rough and threatening look of most wolf folk, he had the refined look of a domesticated dog, complete with carefully trimmed curly hair on his head and each of his ears. Indeed, if he looked like anything, it was one of the carefully manicured and maintained poodles that noblemen kept as personal hounds. She instantly hated him and wanted to fuck him in equal amounts.
\t“Well well well! It seems that my guards were right when they suspected that some furless vermin - and one furred one - were snooping around and looking to relieve me of my valuables.” He walked forward, grinning with delight at the trapped females, his huge dong bouncing comically in front of him as he walked, literally asserting dominance with each strut. “Good thing you laid a trap for them, Captain, making them think you’d actually leave this place unguarded for a few hours. Well, you know what to do with them now. I’ve got a mistress to get back to!”
\tWith that, the master of the house turned away, not even daining to drop his name or ask for theirs. She knew what this meant - no trial, no handing over to the local justice, no opportunity to beg, bribe, or fuck her way into a lesser (or no) sentence. These pigmen were going to take care of her personally. And whatever that meant, it was making Ch’Grath sob. She swallowed hard, suddenly afraid for the first time in a long time. What kind of horror /was/ Demihuman justice? Now she wished she’d asked.

***

\tNiamh had awoken with a serious crick in her neck, the result of having to sleep on a hard stone floor without so much as her co-conspirators to lie on. Really, it had been more like a stone alcove, had she not been so small, she would not have even been able to lie down, a fact clearly demonstrated by the weak legs and painful gate of her compatriots. They’d all been stripped, their clothing roughly cut off and their belongings, what little they were, removed. Faranth had been gagged, and the blue glow emanating from her manacles let Niamh know they were magically sealed. Likewise Ch’Grath had been de-clawed and her face jammed into a gag that let her neither open or close her jaw fully, instead forcing her fangs behind a large metal ring where they remained useless.
\tNiamh was still wearing her moss bracelets, clearly the fact that they had neither magic nor resale value had “saved” them, but she was more than a bit embarrassed to be marched out wearing nothing else besides them and her shackles. Sunlight her her pale skin harsh, making her wonder if she’d be out long enough to be sunburned. What did they intend anyway? Surely Demihumans couldn’t just put people to death without trial, even the Mad King wouldn’t allow that kind of vigilante justice, not when he preferred it to be a “reward” for his demented followers. Plus he hated Demihumans, and wouldn’t even give them regular rights, much less special ones.
\tAs her eyes adjusted, she saw five stockades in front of her, each one with some sort of adjustable table or bench behind it, clearly intended to hold the prisoner horizontally. She and each of her compatriots were marched up to one, then unshackled and roughly shoved into them, locking her head and hands in front, her ass in back, her stomach firm to the surprisingly well padded frame beneath her. Her feet couldn’t touch the ground, leaving her ass and pussy totally exposed, and leaving her blushing with embarrassment despite herself. Just what the hell were these crazy Demihumans going to do with her? Why all this trouble just to hurl insults and rotten fruit?
\tIt was when the pigman who’d secured her smacked her ass with a delighted grunt that she finally realized what was up. Were they…Going to fuck her? If that was all they had wanted, they could have just given her a fair offer at some brothel, and besides, getting fucked with no choice in the matter wasn’t /quite/ the punishment for her than it would be for others. Somewhere behind her, she could hear the nobleman, his stiff-upper-prick of a voice ringing out a well-practiced and performed speech to his staff about the crimes these thieves had committed, that they had tried to fuck him and so he was going to give them just punishment, and on and on and on. The son of a bitch sure loved to hear himself talk, and though Niamh couldn’t see him, she imagined he had some overstuffed outfit with a huge codpiece as well. Typical rich asshole. Pussy and drugs are all he cares about. And he wasn’t even coming down to get some himself.
\tHer theory vis-a-vis fucking was confirmed not soon after the bastard finally shut up, as she could hear her compatriots yelling, screaming, and moaning as they were penetrated by the guards. She didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. They’d all been some form of prostitute many a time in their lives, and having semi-consensual sex was just part of life on the bottom in this kingdom, regardless of sex or gender. The answer was to roll with it and try to enjoy it, and besides, wasn’t this better than hanging from the end of a rope or having one’s head put on a spike? At least this way they grin and bear it for awhile and, in all likelihood, be let go.
\tMuch to her surprise, she found that the pigman didn’t just jam his length in dry, or any other sort of rough play she’d come to expect from her sexless and untalented marks. Instead he took his time, licking, kissing, playing with her pussy using his fingers and snout. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was enjoying this, seeing it as an opportunity to genuinely get laid, rather than just some duty to literally fuck over someone his boss didn’t like. She tried to hold back, tried to conceal her pleasure, but once she let out an bit-too-loud moan, it was all over, and she turned almost as red as her hair with embarrassment at the fact she was enjoying this.
\tIt seemed she wasn’t the only one either. Her compatriots were moaning with embarrassment and arousal now as well, none of them wanting to admit they were having a good time. She realized now what was going on, and its insidious nature as well. Many a young thief had marched with head held high and cries from a sympathetic crowd accompanying him to the gallows. Many a cruel punishment had turned a cutpurse into a mutilated martyr, an example for reformers and rebels to hold up as proof of the Mad King’s evil design. This was different. This was humiliating. This was embarrassing. This was going to make everyone who saw her know that yes, she was a thief, but more importantly, she was a slut, a horny brood sow who couldn’t control herself. And there was literally nothing she could do about it.
\tAlthough her small stature meant that most dicks were of rather large size to her, this particular guard must’ve had a mother who prayed very specifically to very certain gods, because he was gifted to the point of being blessed. No wonder he’d taken his time loosening her up with fingers and tongue, he couldn’t have gotten it inside of her otherwise. She let out a moan of surprise and delight as he worked it in, even more humiliating since she desperately wanted to cover her mouth, to make him stop. No wonder Ch’Grath had been gagged so that her mouth would be open, this sadistic nobleman wanted everyone on his manor to hear her moans of pleasure, as well as those of her compatriots. Indeed, when she opened her eyes and looked forward, there they were, dozens and dozens of Demihumans of all species and sorts, probably more than even lived here. Dressed in their finest, they were waving fans and enjoying chilled drinks, tittering and giggling at how their supposed inferiors were actually enjoying getting fucked. It filled her with hate. And, though she was loathe to admit it, arousal. This really WAS punishment.
\tBehind her the pig guard was really hitting his stride. She could feel her massive rear smack again and again against his ample gut, her ass cheeks jiggling each time. When it seemed they weren’t jiggling enough for his standards, the guard gave her ass a firm slap, reddening her ass cheeks and making her body tremble and twitch all the more. Humiliation didn’t even cover it. How was she getting so aroused at this? And why? It wasn’t even like this was her first time having sex in front of an audience. But it was the lack of control, the lack of will, that really broke her. Along with the fact that this guard, whatever his faults, knew how to FUCK.
\tShe had expected this to be some sort of rough and insulting affair. A combination of painful dry fucking and heavy cursing. But no, this was proper sex, the kind that, while not typically shared between two lovers, certainly was shared between two horny people on a nightly basis. This was passion, this was lust, and this guard was fucking her like he meant it, not like he was just dumb and horny. Waves of pleasure assaulted her from her pussy, smashing into her like a storm on a rocky sea. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth opened wide and began to drool, even as she could feel the soreness on her ass cheeks from the pound of pubis into her jiggling hindquarters. She tried to hold back, tried to bite her tongue, but the words just came out. “Fuck me!” she said. “Fuck me!” If she could have moved her hands, she would have covered her mouth, utterly broken at the thought that she’d said such a thing spontaneously.
\tThe guard grunted with agreement, snickering and replying to her in his own language. “Bitch, I’m going to put a pig in you. Is that what you want, you stupid slut? For me to knock you up? I bet it fucking is. I can feel it.” He emphasized each sentence with a powerful smack of his hand, leaving bright red handprints on her ass, and sending waves of mixed pleasure and pain through Niamh’s body. “And if I fail, well, plenty more men will get their chance today. You’re not leaving until you’re well-bred, you whore.”
\t“Yes! Fuck me! Put a baby in me!” Part of her mind was disgusted at her own words, but the rest had long since left all semblance of reason. She was overcome with desire now, wanting nothing but to be fucked, be knocked up, be a slave to her own biology. She felt a rush of heat and warmth as the guard behind her finished inside, followed immediately by disappointment. She wanted more, her body craved it, and judging by the noises around her, so did her compatriots. They were truly fucked at this point, and none of them cared who knew it or how bemused and entertained the crowd was by their descent into this debauchery.
\tShe didn’t even have time to complain before two more guards, another pigmen and some sort of canine, both came up to her and worked themselves into her from both ends. The canine was in the back, the pig in front, and both worked her with the sort of expertise and determination normally reserved for royal courtesans. Indeed, if she’d paid for this experience, she’d consider it gold well lost, provided it had originally belonged to someone else. How and why the owner of Krookbrook manner had trained his men in this manner was a mystery her sex-addled brain couldn’t solve, but instead she just sucked and fucked, her massive thighs and ample ass jiggling with each thrust as the canine behind her picked up her legs in order to spread her wider and get a better angle for himself. She wanted to cry out, to express her pleasure, her sexual delight, to warn them of her impending orgasm, but with a mouthful of dick all she could do was moan. And moan she did, her cries of pleasure muffled by a combination of flesh and spittle as her tongue and lips went to town on the length between her lips. She almost wished they’d undo the stocks, if only so she could get her hands on the thing and work it even harder. If there was a heaven, this was it. Or a hell. She couldn’t be sure.

***

\tBy the time the sun had set, she was beyond exhausted. They had paused only to provide her with enough food, drink and rest to get her going again. In total she had been getting dicked from both ends for what, six? Seven? Maybe even eight hours in total, from when they had dragged her from her cell into the light? She couldn’t say.
\tSome of the crowd had joined in, pulling down their pants and doing what they wished, although given their lack of talent compared to the guards, she found that both she and the others mostly just tolerated them, with the exception of one feline who must’ve had a very happy wife at home, if his skill at cunnilingus was anything to go on. Niamh had long since lost count of how many partners, how many orgasms, how much sex she’d had since the morning, but she didn’t care. Part of her wanted more, but the rest wanted rest. When the stockade was unlocked and she felt the soft hands of some pretty vulpine girl working ointment into her neck and wrists, she presumed that rest and freedom were now hers. She had, after all, endured her punishment, and with so many witnesses, she was no doubt not going to live it down. Hell, she’d have to move two kingdoms over just to outrun the rumors and get enough plausible deniability to be a respectable thief again.
\tShe looked up to see the vixen, clad in flowing noblewoman clothes despite her clear status as a mistress or whore, caressing the Master of the House. She still didn’t know his name, but if possible, she both hated and wanted to fuck him even more than yesterday. He had somehow fit her with a punishment that was actually going to stick, in a way that a flogging or execution never would. Had he stolen her money or her life, he would have taken something she hardly valued. But her pride - that she would miss dearly, and would likely never get back.
\t“Well well well, it seems my little thief has gotten something other than what she intended.” The nobleman looked like he was trying to hold back boisterous laughter, and Niamh’s face once again turned almost as red as her hair. This guy had a talent for humiliation, that was certain. “Put her in the pillow room for a full day to recover, and make sure she is fed and washed.” She blinked a bit. Pillow room? What the fuck was that? “After all, she has six more days of ‘punishment’ to endure. And bring more poets and gossips tomorrow. I want to be sure word of her deeds spread far and wide - ideally enough to make her consider a more honest line of work - on her back!”
\tThe Master laughed much too loud for such a baffling non-joke as he walked off, the vixen girl joined by some sort of exotic bird woman with hips that bespoke magical cosmetic surgery more than any kind of respectability. Firmly, but without malice, hands gripped her and carried her away. Six more days of this? Part of her was excited, sending pulses of warmth and arousal to her now well-fucked pussy. But the rest of her, hooh-boy. Maybe running three kingdoms over wasn’t enough. Maybe she’d need to put an entire ocean between her and “The Ballad of Niamh the Whore.”
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