3 comments/ 19764 views/ 1 favorites Troll Tales By: enchantman A Treasury of Spiritual Erotica Long ago, in a kingdom whose history is lost from the archives of our familiar world, there was a handsome prince who grew tired of life in the royal palace. "Let me breathe the fresh air of the Goddess!" he cried out, as he galloped his steed down the old highway toward the mountainous province of Wartkog. After many hours of hard riding he finally stopped, dismounting at a rushing stream to bathe. Unknown to the prince, from the moment he entered Wartkog he was closely observed by a band of tartan trolls. They spied upon him from the rocks, the trees, and rotted stumps, watching his every move. As the prince removed his royal riding clothes, and began to step into the swiftly flowing stream, the trolls leapt upon him, grabbing him firmly by legs, arms, and head. Though he struggled valiantly, their strength was too much to resist, and he succumbed within moments. Unceremoniously, he was bound, gagged, and tossed into a large wicker basket. Although the sun was setting, the trolls set out immediately. By moonlight, they wound their way up a mountain trail, beneath the ice-wrapped cliffs of Mt. Klarak, carrying the basket containing the living treasure. Nearly frozen and terribly uncomfortable, he tried to think positive thoughts about what was about to befall him. "I mean", he observed to himself beneath the gag, "what's the worst thing that could happen to me? After all, I'm a prince, these are subjects- they know the laws, and what would happen them if they so much as yanked one hair from my scalp- so, I should just endure this preposterous mishandling and await my imminent release." If he only knew what awaited him, he would not have been so confident. All of a sudden, the trolls stopped. The prince could hear the creaking of a great stone wheel. Little did he know they had arrived at the cave entrance into the mountain itself. After a pause, the basket was moving again, deep into Mt. Klarak. The prince could hear them talking to each other, the voices barely recognizable. "Do you think we'll get to serve this one?" It was the voice of the youngest troll. "Yeah, serve him for dinner!" said the leader with a grunt, and then they all howled with laughter, a strange and frightening sound to the prince's ears, unused to the crude merriment of mountain trolls. What the prince did not know, and to what the trolls were referring, was the Promise of the Goddess. Many centuries before, the legend said, the Ancient Green Goddess had delivered a beautiful young girl to the trolls, a girl who was part human and part angel. "She is my child. You must raise her with love and firmness, and prepare her for inheriting the earth as her own," the Goddess commanded. It thus became the solemn sworn duty of the trolls to raise the Mountain Princess, hidden deep within the sanctuary of Mt. Klarak, and find her a suitable mate. This mate would also be part angel, the only one who would be able to fulfill her outrageously rampant physical desire. Thus, upon their union, so the legend goes, would begin the reign of the Mountain Family, with the trolls serving as priests and priestesses and with all inhabitants free of inhibition. The world would be made whole, peace be restored throughout the forests, and Wartkog would be transformed into Klarkog. There was just one additional assurance, bequeathed as a solemn promise, the Goddess's gift to the dedication of the trolls who served Her. The promise was that if any man they brought to Her daughter was insufficient to satisfy the Princess's insatiable desire, this man became property of the troll kitchen, to feed their appetite for human flesh. The newly abducted prince, still blithely ignorant of the Promise, was locked into a room in the great cavern, a room dimly lit by the stub of a candle. As he struggled out of his unlocked basket, still bound and gagged, he could see there were manuscripts strewn all around, as if he lodged in a disorderly library. He could hear, through the walls of the cave, the distant sound of a man moaning, as if the man were experiencing great pain... or great pleasure. Occasionally the moans would turn to yelps, almost barking, then return to a steady, unnerving moan. What on the earth could be happening to him? Are they torturing him? Thus the prince began to worry, as the hours rolled by. He finally worried himself to sleep. If the prince could have seen what was happening, he would have likely been shocked. Nothing in his sheltered palace life would have prepared him for such a sight as this. There, in the inner chambers of the Mountain Princess, all aglow with orange torchlight, a throne-like bed of oak rested in the very center of her boudoir. Sleek furs of bear and fox draped over it. Diamonds and emeralds, placed there centuries before by troll jewelmasters, glimmered throughout the cave. A group of female trolls, chamber attendants, stood quietly and modestly in the shadows, watching as their beautiful Princess rode another man to his fate. Centuries earlier, when the Promise was made, the trolls wanted their Princess to have every comfort possible. Imagine how terrible, they would cry, for a beautiful child such as this to spend her whole life living inside a mountain! Though stories are spread of their dark side, trolls have a very sweet and loving disposition as well- and this is what the Goddess was cultivating- at least up to a point. She was also realistic, and knew that to secure their unswerving devotion through all time required an irresistible benefit, something that glued them to her like, well, a kiss to succulent lips. Thus, the rite continued, night after night, year after year, century after century. Troll bands would comb the countryside, looking for strong, young men, but in famine times widening their search to include middle-aged or even older men. These men would be caught, just as the poor prince was caught, and carried by basket to their mountain lair. There they would await their fate with the Princess. Depending on how many others were kidnapped at the same time, a prisoner might have to endure weeks of listening to nightly moaning, as each of the other doomed men attempted to please this supra-earthly woman. They would listen as night after night, a new recruit was laid upon the sensuous bed of the Princess, arms and legs securely tied to iron rings embedded in the four corner posts. He would hear the man plead in vain for mercy as a thin, oiled leather phallus was deftly inserted by practiced hands into his bottom, stretching and stimulating the soft skin around his anus, serving to engorge his cock until it was nearly bursting. If he needed further assistance, the troll chambermaids would use their skillful hands and tongues to ensure proper fullness. And this was simply preparation, so that the man would be suitably presentable to the Princess as she entered the room. And then the listening prisoner would hear a sharp intake of breath, corresponding to her moment of entrance. It was always a breathtaking revelation for the bound man, spread-eagled on his back with a phallus penetrating deep inside his pulsing bottom, to behold the unabashed beauty and intensity of the Princess. On her torso she wore nothing but a braided deer hide girdle, allowing her breasts to hang free, yet riding high enough on her waist to allow the molten furnace between her legs freedom to blaze unfettered. Upon each arm were bronze bracelets in the shape of snakes curling around each other, and upon her neck was a magical amulet of pure gold given her by her mother, the Green Goddess. And then he would hear the sounds of gentle laughter, as she began to study his captive body, very carefully touching and prodding, taking her time. Always searching for one who would meet her, who would sense her fire and not be intimidated, but respond with an even more powerful, all-consuming fire. And into this fire she knew she would pour herself, and rise again, to challenge the would-be mate with an even more irresistible force of love...and on and on would the dance go, throughout time... But that was in her dreams. In actuality, she had met and impaled with her sex thousands of men through the years, through the centuries, many whom were quite handsome, many who were thoughtful lovers, or witty conversationalists, yet all who failed and were ineligible, who could not rise to meet her totally. And thus the trolls were fed. A pounding and scraping of chains signalled to the prince a commotion in the hallway. Rough hands took hold of him, and lifted him, still bound, back into the basket. In darkness again, he felt the movement as he was transported down the hallways through the labyrinthian mountain chambers. When he was dumped out, the room was ablaze with torches. A great bed filled the center. The trolls skillfully lifted him onto the bed and secured him in place, as they had done so many times before. "What are you doing to me?!" He demanded, as they secured the final tie. He was spread-eagled on the great bed, his clothing completely removed. In the shadows he could hear the tittering of female voices. "How dare you strip me naked! Do you not know who I am?" Yet they proceeded to do things without responding, unspeakable things. They brought forth the oiled phallus, which the prince recognized for its shape as an imitation cock. "What on earth is that for?" he naively demanded. One question too many, it seemed, for they secured his gag at this point, all the while deftly inserting the oiled phallus into his twitching bottom. "Hmmmph!" The meaning of his gesticulations, shaking his head back and forth, went unheeded, as the female trolls stepped forward, out of the shadows. There were four of them, quite attractive from a human standpoint, other than their exceedingly large eyes and short claws upon fingers and toes. They proceeded to arouse his staff into full strength, using their mouths upon it. Meanwhile, the most petite among them removed her nether garments, revealing a shaved pubic area, glistening in the torchlight. Climbing up on the great bed, she spun around to face his feet, and, swiftly removing his gag, sat down squarely upon his astonished, upturned face. Her pussy was huge, engorged, and awash with fluids, which completely wetted his chin and nose. The aroma was intoxicating, setting his blood aboil, and he involuntarily began lapping up the juices which poured from her cunt. All the while, the three other troll servants were steadily licking at the pole jutting from his loins, and delicately moving the phallus in and out, very slowly, from his ass. After what seemed like hours of this foreplay, at a point where he could hardly breathe anymore, and he had drunk at least a pint of the petite one's love juice, they seemed to know the time had come to stop. The servant who had been sitting on top of his face removed herself without ceremony, replacing the gag. The others stepped lightly away from the bed, into the shadows. The prince, however, was on fire, his hips gyrating and pulsating, his cock waving into the air, as they had done an excellent job of arousing him to the utmost without allowing him to come, thus preparing him for what was next. And the door opened. The prince had never beheld anything so arousing in his lifetime as the sight of the Goddess entering that mountain chamber. If he had been aroused before, that was only the appetizer. His cock strained upward, his buttocks stretching, his legs and arms taut in their restraints, as she took one step towards him. "And what have we here?" she spoke with the sound of rushing waters deep in the underground caves, a purring which was both enchanting and provocative, inciting and commanding obedience. "He appears to be royalty, your highness." Spoke the troll who had spotted him some days earlier. "We found him by a stream while out riding on the edges of his kingdom." "A prince indeed!" She took another step forward, removing the leather strap which held her scanty lace and leather garment in place. As she stepped out of it, he could see ancient markings drawn upon her radiant flesh, signs and symbols, animals and plants. A diamond shimmered from her navel, ornamental snakes wound around her upper arms. "You appear to have been well prepared. I am happy to see you are excited to behold me!" With that she flicked his cock with her long, delicate fingers. It was painful, but exquisite, for the prince to watch as she studied his instrument of sexual longing. "Hmmphh" he said. "Oh, you wish to speak. I will remove your gag, if you promise to address me as 'your highness'. Oh- and to serve me always." The prince was undergoing a major shift in thinking. A few hours ago, he was a defiant, proud, vain young man- quick to judgment and wanting only his own way. Now, face to face with the Mountain Goddess, his newfound aspiration in life was simply to please her, to satisfy her, to give her whatever pleasure she desired. He nodded. "Good. Here it comes off, but only to be replaced by another kind of covering." With this, she removed the gag while gracefully ascending the bed, straddling his body, and lowering her loins upon his face. Before he could speak even a single word, his tongue was pressing against her bottomless rear depths, a moist and private darkened sanctuary, while his nose pressed into a cunt wetter than the most verdant rainforests, warmer than the southern shores, with an aroma like the most exotic of flowers. She lifted herself slightly and moved half an inch forward before settling down upon his face again, securing his tongue in her enchanted pussy, providing him a taste more succulent than the rarest wine he had every tasted. His licking seemed to please her, as he rolled his tongue around a clitoris a full inch in length and half and inch in girth, glittering like diamond dust. She reached behind her to take hold of the anal phallus, and began slowly fucking him with it. After what seemed an eternity, she slipped back down his torso until her body was straddling his mid-section. "Your tongue pleases me, young man. But now I must see what you are capable of in this other arean." And so she tested him, all night long. And the next night. And the following night. And on and on. Thus the legend goes, how a prince learned the meaning of surrender and art of service, and how the Mountain Goddess fully enjoyed herself in being served. Ahe trolls learned to embrace a new diet, having no more rejected suitors to cook, thus shifting their appetite from unworthy men to delicious truffles that grow wild on the northern slopes of Mt. Klarak.