Extreme Sex Quest 6

For those of you just tuning in, a Quest is a style of literary game that I play with you guys through voting. Like a traditional pen and paper RPG, you all control a character that acts as you'd like them to. Unlike traditional pen and paper RPGs, you all don't get your own character. Rather, you share one single one among all of you whose behavior and actions you decide on through the democratic process.

I am doing these an update a month, the update coming around 15 of each month or so. Just a little something for you guys to do.

Now, the votes this time around are as follows:

Tatoo 4 No tatoo 3 Queen Call 3 Lady Wife call 7

Alright, about the tattoo, since I know it can be very contentious, and the “no” did get plenty of votes, I am going to softball things a bit. Because that's the thing about quests; it doesn't have to be winner take all. And so, if a loser vote gets a lot of attention and I can ALSO fulfill it in someway, then I will.

But I do hope you guys are beginning to see what kind of world this is, with it's DEEPLY masochistic trends. Yes, masochistic to the point that it goes around to being sadistic.

But enough talk

Extreme Sex Quest 6

[X] She has tattoos in her stomach. One birth one and one miscarriage one.

You stare at the tattoos for a second. Given how close and intimate a master/student relationship can sadly get, you were sure you had seen every single part of her body naked. Given how freely and wickedly she had taken advantage of the power she held over you, you even knew how every single part of her body felt.

Marring of the body was looked down upon…except when it service to a male.

You, evidently, counted in Alama’s mind

“What is that?” you couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t there the last time you “checked”.

“Oh, this?” Alama actually leans in to see where at her stomach you are looking. And when she does, a wide smirk sprouts in her eyes, “It’s all the children I carried for you.”

There 2 ticks in there. One after the other.

“Or, well, miscarried as the case may be,” the older woman traces her fingers over the tattoo with the fetus crossed off.

“Why did you never-” you began to say.

“Because if you knew I was planning on trapping you with a son, you would have absolutely ran away,” Alama shrugs her shoulders. “Alas, they were both girls and thus completely useless.”

“But it actually makes me hot to remember these failures,” Alama happily hummed, “But I suppose now I’ll be able to keep them regardless of their gender.”

“Though we don’t have to,” her eyes were smoldering, “If they are girls, we can be good Landladies and give them away to the poor unfortunate unwashed peasant bitches. Or we can simply get ‘rid’ of them.”

“Like your first daughters,” she liked her lips.

You swallowed at that.

[X] You will…take up your Lady “Wife’s” request. Sigh. (Feature: Centaurs. Reward: Fame and the ability to dictate the fate of the bandits. Also, it will make your waifu happy....if that matters to you. ;) )

Considerations weighed on your mind.

You wanted to take the Queen’s request, you really did. Your mother’s would have been acceptable and a good springboard for your career, but it was in a Queen’s war that a Dame really won renown. The attention of the flowers of chivalry, all fighting alongside you as you kill the enemies of womankind.

And took from them your just rewards.

Your heart longed for that. Your dreams started with that.

You desired that option so much.

But, in the end, there was no alternative.

“I’ll take my Lady Wife’s request,” you force yourself to say and both your sister and mother stare at you in disbelief.

Alama’s mouth actually drops. But she is the first one to recover.

“My Love!” she breaks all proprietary and envelops her arms around you, bringing you into her sinfully vast bust, “Oh, my love!”

You were a woman of many things. Honor, as befitted a knight, yes. Strength, as befitted a warrior, also. Faith, as befitted a woman of the faith, well, not so much, but no one was perfect.

But among all those things? You were also a Woman of Duty.

And as a newlywed…you had to live up to your vow to make your wife happy.

“Get off me, wife,” you hiss at her.

“Oh?” she mischievously smiles as she breaths in your ear, “Why should I?”

“When you’re all but shouting that you love what I do to you?”

You give her a look with such hate that it makes your sister take a step back, but only makes your wife laugh.

But she does get off of you and begins behaving like a lady again.

But not before giving your lips a kiss that feels far too good.

“...well, I guess you can never guess how these things will go,” your mother considers both you and your wife, “Didn’t think you’d love your mentor.”

“Love?” you say, aghast.

“Pain and suffering is a very common addiction,” your mother nods with authority, “But it would be uncouth to talk that way about a woman that’s almost a man. Better to say ‘love’ and not disrespect a daughter that has just been made a knight.”

“It’s neither of those things!” you complain.

But your mother looks thoroughly unconvinced.

“Well, regardless, it would be unladylike of me to send you off with empty hands,” she continued on, “Go to the armory and laden your pack with what you can.”

“...thank you, lady Mother,” you incline your head, allowing the topic to be shifted.

“Also, go to the stables and ascertain which animal would fit you best,” your mother waves her hand, “A knight without a saddle is just a peon.”

That cheered you up, as you didn’t have a horse to your name, but before you could so much as thank your mother, your wife was already bowing far too low to be a thanks.

“The horse will not be necessary, Lady mother of my cherished wife,” Alama said, almost making your eyes bulge.

“You’ll have me go on foot?” you gasp, not being able to believe that your mentor would be this cruel.

“I was planning on giving you my horse,” she said instead and you pass at that.

Alama’s mare was a fearsome charger that dwarfed most horses. It was more then a fine gift.

The problem was that the mare also.…made you rather uncomfortable.

“Planning to?” you, however, caught on to her wordplay, and slimmed your eyes to see what she was trying to do this time.

“We are going to be going after centaurs,” Alama grabs your hands and you forced yourself to not snatch them away, “I figured you’d also appreciate capturing, and taming your own ride.”

“Slavery?” you gasp.

“Or you could just take my horse,” she shrugs.

Athena, named after the Goddess of War, or one of them anyway, burrows trenches into the ground when you go to check on her.

It’s the day after your wedding and you’ve said all your good byes to all your sisters and your mother. You carry plate in your bags, and a sturdy gambeson for the road. Your leather boots are new and polished, and your head is strung in a pony tail.

Your wife, on the other hand, had chosen to stop dressing like a knight and just….dressed like a common lady.

“Now that I am married,” she tells you as you get ready to go, “I can settle down.”

“I am not,” you reply, “And you know that I plan on questing ‘till my light shines.”

“Oh, and I’ll be there to see it,” she says, “But not as your mentor or a fellow knight.”

“But as your wife,” she happily sighs as she unhooks her mare from her post.

And you almost have to jump out of the way to not be trampled by her horse.

“Athena!” you shout as she nostled your face, presses against your bust and…almost sticks her snout into your crotch, “Stay! Sieze your morbid actions!”

“See? She missed you too,” your wife, for once, helps you and takes Athena in hand. She takes your pack and hangs it from her saddle. She harnesses both of your supplies and gives her long time friend a pad on her quarters.

But she does not climb on top of her.

“So?” she asks, “Do you want Athena to be yours?”

It was hard to say how intelligent animals were, but the mare’s ears immediately went up as she gave you a glance.

Then she turned around, bringing her big great flank in front of you. Where her pretty horse tail whisked back and forth.

Giving you glimpses of her engorged pussy.

Was she in heat?

“What’s the catch?” you ask.

“Absolutely none,” your wife says, “...except for one little thing.”

“Of course there is,” you sigh.

“Athena here is not just any horse,” Alama goes on, “My family has been breeding many like her for generations. You could say she is family, in many ways. Like a sister, practically.”

“But I’ve not been able to fulfill all of poor Athena’s needs,” your wife sadly says, “Not like you can.”

“...you can’t be serious,” you reply, knowing, somehow, KNOWING that this is what this was leading to!

“I’ll tell you what,” your wife calms you down, “Try her out until we take care of the bandits and, if Athena hasn’t convinced you? Take up another ride.”

“We’ll understand,” your wife confidently says while Athena gives you the sort of look that makes it clear she will do no such thing.

What do you do?

[] Accept the trial ownership for now. How bad can it be? (Athena will try to seduce you.)

[] Decline. You’ll walk. (Athena will try to rape you.)

[] Just accept her as a gift. (You outright agree to fuck a horse.)