Unholy Arts Scenes
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Unholy Matrimony free porn video
The girl shook her head almost imperceptibly, but a mother can pick up on the most minute details. Also, she saw her roll her eyes in the mirror.
Aranel did look absolutely stunning. Her eyes shone like green emeralds on an unblemished porcelain face. Her elvish heritage gave her the long ears and lithe, nymphette body, but it must have been her human half that gifted her perky breasts considered unthinkably massive among her people. Hard to imagine they could still be growing for another decade at least. For an elf with a life expectancy of a thousand years, eighteen was still a blooming period.
Her beauty was not in question, but the wedding circumstances might explain the hint of resentment at her mother’s words.
“I had never met your father the day of our marriage, either,” Varda added, hoping to warm her daughter’s cold feet. “I thought I was sacrificing my best centuries just so that two kingdoms could make war together instead of against each other. It was an interracial marriage, too, as you know; I was terrified of what it would be like to share my bed with a smelly, savage brute from across the ocean.”
“What did you do, Mother?”
“I trusted my parents. That’s all a girl can do in this world. And your father turned out to be a smelly but wonderful man, and he gave me the most beautiful of daughters.”
“I love this story, mother.” Aranel smiled. “But tell me, was father a fucking Sex Demon!? Huh?!” The smile was a scam.
“Well... no, but...”
“How many cocks did he have, Mother? Because mine has two, and they’re both so big that they drag on the floor despite him being the size of two men. And did you have to uproot your entire life to move with him to a cursed hell where every sensation is heightened a hundredfold and every day feels like two years? Did your wedding dress look like this, Mother? Did it?”
Aranel’s point was made by spinning around abruptly to face her mother, letting the bare breasts that spilled out of her bustier swing then bounce around as they settled. For further emphasis, she grabbed handfuls of her chest and squeezed her tits like dough between her fingers. The traditional elven gown had been... altered for her wedding. Though formfitting, the flowing white robe usually covered the entirety of the bride's chest and most of the legs. This extremely slutty version her future husband had requested had her bouncy, soft milk bags and their pink suckers out in the open. The butt cheeks, as well. Only her smooth elven pussy had any decency unless the slightest of breezes during the outdoor ceremony sent the silk loincloth flapping.
“I’m trying to tell you that it always works out in the end,” Varda said, running out of empathy for her daughter’s whining. “Because you were the result of this Elf-Human union. And you’re the most wonderful gift a woman can have.”
“And you think my happy ending will be to have a beautiful daughter? What kind of twisted, sex-craved creature is going to burst out of my womb, Mother. And how many brothers will it have? A hundred? A thousand? When or if you come visit, please forgive your grotesque demon grandchildren for raping your serving girls and eating your horses alive.”
“You’re exaggerating, Aranel.”
“Let’s see if you still feel that way after the ceremony, after watching your daughter walk down the aisle practically naked.” She lifted and dropped her squishy melons again to make sure her point still got across. “And who knows what kind of embarrassment awaits me at the altar.”
“It’s true that the wedding will incorporate a few demonic traditions; it takes compromises to form a healthy alliance. But your uncle Gwydion will be officiating. He’s known you since you were a baby; he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. Everything has been worked out. Your only job is to swallow a bit of your famous pride and try to find little joys in your new life wherever you can. Between you and me,” Varda nuzzled against her daughter's bare shoulder to give her a friendly nudge in the ribs, “your husband will probably be livelier under the sheets than mine is.”
“Ew, Mother. Ew.”
It was unintentionally a Yin-Yang-themed wedding with the Elven side like a bouquet of white roses sitting in a beautiful garden, and the Demon family, all black, their aura of decay withering their side of the garden into a bog of dead weeds. Even the left side of the flowery arch was being corrupted by the groom’s presence at the altar.
“Am I pronouncing it right? Rimmon?” Elder Gwydion, the man who was supposed to be in Aranel's corner, was stuttering in subservience next to the double-cocked beast.
“⛧R̴͖̤̜̠͖̄̈́̒̀̑̅͜͠i̸̢̹̣̯̮̓̇ṁ̷͚͈͇̖̎̌̆̚͝͝m̷̥͚̍́̒͠ö̶̻́͝ṇ̶̢̛̦̤̲̬̩̓́̇̈́̀͗͘͜⛥” the ten-foot creature corrected. Though similar, his way of pronouncing it, like a thousand souls screaming in agony, made everyone's ears bleed. Rimmon's only fancy concession was a bow tie and a gold ring through his nose. Otherwise, he was a black, naked Taurus-like demon with fur everywhere but his face, chest, and cocks, cocks he didn’t even bother to cover up with a tablecloth or something. Such massive third legs, even for a giant like him, Aranel wasn’t looking forward to figuring out how sex was even supposed to work. Though he was better at hiding his disgust, she assumed Rimmon was just as confused about the size difference in this arranged marriage as she was.
“Err... right. ⛧Rimmon⛥ the Elf Splitter." Gwydion’s attempt at the demonic pronunciation fell flat. "I will now read your vows: Do you swear to never give your bride a moment’s rest? To keep your piping hot cum constantly erupting from her mouth like an active volcano? To fill her womb to the brink of rupture? To reshape her body and her mind in your cocks image?”
Aranel rolled her eyes and gave her mom in the front row an I-told-you-so look from the altar. Rimmon snorted his "I do."
“And do you, Aranel of the Willowtree, swear to endure unimaginable and unending pain? To give birth multiple times a day, even if your half-demon children have to wriggle between your birth canal and their father’s cock to come out? To live on nothing but backwashed cum and shameful orgasms? To be shared between your husband’s friends, should he feel like it sometimes? To feed an entire brood with the milk of your plump, juicy tits...
“OK, we get it...” Aranel interrupted. “That all sounds just wonderful.” Unfortunately, if sarcasm could stop a wedding, she wouldn’t be standing there right now.
“Rimmon, do you have the ring?” Gwydion had given up on using the demonic intonation.
The demon produced a ring thick enough to fit around his thumb. For Aranel, it would have to be a wristband. But it was not a wristband. Before she could cross her arms, Rimmon had both her tits squished together in the clamp of a giant hand. And before Aranel could do more than gasp, the ring opened into a clasp, and the pointy end made a thick hole through both her nipples, leaving a filling of cold metal in their wake.
Everything about her groom had been too ridiculous, too outrageous to take seriously, but the sensation of her erect nipples invaded, tainted, desecrated made the reality of the vows crash down on her like a rock through a window or a ring through a nipple.
She was still staring at her linked nips in horror when a tug made every muscle in her body spasm and lock. A fresh gasp escaped her lungs as she levitated like an angel, an angel being lifted by the ring of her freshly pierced tits, stretching her once-perfect breasts into upright pears.
The pinched finger that held her up by the ring let it go after a few agonizing seconds, but Aranel’s titties found no rest. They were hooked onto something, and her kicking feet could not find the ground. Perhaps it was time to open her eyes.
Not a reassuring sight, after all. Aranel’s nipples-ring was now attached to Rimmon’s nose ring. The metal was smooth as if the ring had never been a clasp. Solid and permanent like their union. There was nothing for Aranel’s hands to grasp other than the base of her own stretched nipples. Her feet would never touch the ground again, but her butt eventually found a wet seat in the combined precum-smeared cocks that had erected under her. She never thought she’d be so relieved to sit on a Sex Demon’s cocks. What was it her mother had said? Something about finding small joys in an arranged marriage?
“No, no, no....” Small joys are fleeting. A seat is only a seat until you start sinking down on it. With his giant hands around her young, slender thighs, Rimmon unrolled his warm, two-chamber flesh condom.
Is there a part of this ceremony when someone can object? Aranel wasn’t sure anyone would. The crowd watched in silence as if this horrific defilement was exactly what they signed up to see. Aranel could almost read their minds: ‘if a half-breed bimbo princess is the price for peace, we’ve struck a bargain and even got a show out of it.’
She wasn’t halfway down the cocks when the piercings started stretching her large tits again, but Rimmon’s tree trunk arms barely felt the added tension. Like the elastic of a readied slingshot, the breasts elongated. The pulling metal widened the holes, but the nipples held. Though her womb and colon were wrapped tightly around the demon cocks, when Rimmon finally relaxed his pull, Aranel was dragged up the shaft by her tits fighting for their original shape... only to be slammed down on his crotch again.
Was this whole piercing ceremony a way for demons to fuck tight girls using the elasticity of her tits as a reset? Slamming down a bruised cocksleeve is the most enjoyable part of sex for them, so why not let the cocksleeve's supple breasts do the boring half?
“When...
Is...
This...
Part...
Over?”
Aranel could only speak at the peak of the cocks when her breasts and her belly were almost their standard shape, and she was getting impaled relentlessly every two seconds.
Her uncle Gwydion, useless as he was, seemed to be the only apologetic elf in the garden. “I...err... I don’t think this is part of the ceremony anymore, Princess... or should I say My Demon Queen. You are officially married.”
“So...
This...
Is...
My...
Life...
Now?”
“I’m afraid so.” Gwydion shook his head and walked away as the Elven flutists began playing jaunty tunes. The only music Rimmon’s friends and family needed was the whimpering moans of the young bride massaging her sore breasts while getting fucked on stage as the guests mingled and exchanged pleasantries. Nobody turned to look when her husband bellowed. Nobody cared that gallons of hot cum ballooned her womb and flushed out her mouth through her intestines like a squirming version of the cheese fondue fountain that bubbled at a nearby table.
There was no pillow talk. The fucking never stopped even while Rimmon’s potent sperm swam down Aranel's fallopian tubes and began raping her eggs. She suspected it would never stop. That this honeymoon, like her tits, would even stretch into millennia once her husband carried her through the threshold of the demon world portal. Grinding her canals on a cock and popping out fat babies was going to be her happily ever after.
No, not ever after. I’ll be back, Mother. After I earn the Demons' respect and become their Dark Queen. After I birth myself an army. You’re willing to trade your daughter for a kingdom? I’m willing to trade a kingdom for a chance to tell you to find ‘little joys’ while a dozen demons warp your body with their cocks and their cum and their babies. I will make sure you get the lively time under the sheets that you dreamt of.
My name is now Aranel the Elf Splitter, after all. -->
Jane
- 14.07.2020
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