We introduce, the Duchess who likes it hard.
After a long journey, spanning two painstaking hours of walking, Mastur couldn't help but express his impatience to Jack.
"Aren't we there yet?" he asked, partly annoyed.
Jack was a seasoned traveler.
His full name was Jack Off, and this wasn't because he jerked off a good number of times.
He was the son of Jerk Off and the grandson of Jackit Off.
Initially, the familyʼs surname was Depew, but it changed after his great grandfather, Beat Depew became a Viscount of the Off Viscounty.
As such, he came to be known as Beat Off.
After some problems with Jack who slept with two of his father's wives, he was disowned and exiled from home.
Now we wandered the land in search of Milfs.
He reassured Mastur with a calm smile. "We're almost there, don't worry."
Mastur couldn't help but scoff, his eyes scanning the seemingly endless sea of grass. "How would you know? All I see is grass..." he quipped.
Jack paused for a moment.
"You'll know we've arrived when you see a colossal mansion," he said confidently, before quickly backtracking. "Scratch that," he muttered to himself, correcting his statement. "Actually, you'll know we've arrived when you see a long line of men."
"Long line of men?"
"Yeah, the type with big muscles and huge dicks, that type of line..."
"The fuck?"
Jack continued walking.
Walking beside the Felicity, Mastur leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can we really trust this guy?" he asked, his brows furrowing with doubt.
Felicity responded with a definitive nod, her confidence unwavering. "Of course," she reassured him.
"You sound awfully confident..."
She smiled, proudly adjusting her glasses with an air of superiority. "I can read emotions, remember? And I sense sincerity from this Jack of a guy."
"Why would I want to jack off a guy? That's gross.."
"Were you even listening? I meant Jack of a guy.."
"Whatever," Mastur yawned.
Together, they continued their journey through the grass fields, anticipation mounting with every step they took.
And then, in a matter of seconds, Mastur's eyes widened as he caught sight of dozens of men, each towering and muscular in their own right.
Their races spanned a wide spectrum, from minotaurs to ogres, trolls to centaurs.
He was awestruck by their sheer presence.
With a triumphant grin, Jack approached the line of men, greeting them with a booming voice.
"Good day, folks!" he called out.
His arrival was met with an enthusiastic chorus of voices from the men.
"Jack! You're here!" they exclaimed, their faces lit up with genuine joy.
Taking a moment to savor the scene, Jack took a long, leisurely drag from his pipe, exhaling a plume of smoke.
"Yeah," he replied coolly. "I brought some fresh meat to try out the Ducchess."
Jack turned to Mastur, his thumb jabbing towards him.
The centaur then spoke, "Uh Jack, you know human dicks ain't gonna do shit against the Ducchess' pussy..."
Mastur opened his mouth to retort, but Jack's glare at the centaur silenced him.
"Watch yourself, my friend," Jack warned the centaur.
The centaur fell silent, his eyes narrowing but his lips tightly sealed.
Jack took a drag from his pipe once more, the smokey exhale exiting through his flared nostrils.
"You seem to have forgotten, my cultured centaur," he took a dramatic pause before glaring at them again, "that I'm a human too."
The men around them froze, their eyes widening in disbelief.
"What?!" they exclaimed in unison. "It can't be!"
Jack nodded, a cocksure smirk playing at his lips.
"Oh, but it is," he confirmed, "I'm indeed a human. And I've conquered the Duchess six out of fifteen times. My fellow man of culture here can definitely do it."
The centaur, still skeptical, voiced his doubts.
"I highly doubt it," he scoffed, "but I'll watch and see."
Mastur stepped forward confidently.
"How about we make a little wager?" he proposed with a devious smile.
The centaur raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.
Mastur grinned, his confidence radiating.
"If I can fuck the eyeballs out of the Duchess," he declared boldly, "you'll give me five gold. But, if I fail, I'll give you five gold. And to make things more interesting, if you satisfy... I'll give you an extra five gold, but if you don't... You'll give me an extra five."
The centaur looked at Mastur from top to bottom.
"You don't look like you can afford that," he sneered.
Mastur chuckled. "Oh, my friend," he replied, "and yet I'm the son of a count, even if you don't go through with the bet, I could still get you into a lot of trouble. You should be careful who you talk trash about."
The centaur gritted his teeth, anger and uncertainty warring within him.
Finally, he begrudgingly agreed.
"Alright," he growled, "we'll make the bet."
The two men shook hands firmly, sealing the agreement.
Mastur turned to Felicity and Jack.
"You two will be the moderators of this bet," he declared.
Felicity nodded eagerly, her face lighting up with excitement.
"Alright, let's do this," she said.
Jack nodded calmly, his gaze fixed on Mastur.
"I'll make sure everything is fair," he assured, his tone steady and composed.
With their roles established, the three of them left the line of imposing men, crushing sounds of the grass sounding as they left.
Jack couldn't resist his curiosity any longer and turned to Mastur.
"So, tell me the truth," he asked, "you really the son of a count?"
Mastur let out a hearty laug. "Hell no!"
Jack chuckled, shaking his head playfully. "You sly bastard," he teased, a fond smile gracing his lips.
While the centaur watched them walk away, a minotaur approached him with a curious expression.
"Are you sure about taking that bet, Wankokpara?" the minotaur questioned.
The centaurs name was "Wankokpara".
The centaur hesitated for a moment.
"I don't want to get into any trouble," he admitted, "but Mastur doesn't even know that I've conquered the Duchess twice out of two encounters. He's going to lose this bet, no matter what."
What Wankokpara was hoping for was this.
He'd satisfy the Ducchess and earn 5 gold from her.
And then earn another five gold from Mastur.
And then watch Mastur fail and earn five gold from him.
In total, that'd be 15 gold.
The minotaur's eyes widened, he was flabbergasted.
"You're a genius," he exclaimed.
Wankokpara nodded confidently, his chest swelling with pride.
"Of course," he replied, his voice oozing with self-assuredness.
Meanwhile, Mastur turned to Jack. "So, where are we heading to now?" he asked.
Jack gave him a small smile, leading the way.
"We have to pay and register first," he explained.
"Registration, just to fuck?" Felicity asked.
"Hm? I thought girls don't say 'fuck' unless during sex...?" Jack asked.
"Nah, she's a pervert.." Mastur replied.
Felicity nodded. "Indeed."
' S... She didn't even deny it... ' Jack thought.
The trio made their way through the bustling crowd, the sounds of chatter a tad disrupting.
Soon, they arrived at the registration booth.
"YES! PUT MORE OF THAT MINOTAUR DICK INSIDE YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF TRASH!!"
When they heard that, they all looked up.
At the window of the Duchess's chamber, everyone could witness the Duchess herself, gracefully leaning against the frame. Her large, meaty breasts were proudly on display.
As if in a mesmerizing dance, her nipples gently released drops of milk, evoking a sense of sensuality.
In a surprising turn of events, a group of rat men eagerly rushed forward, extending their tongues to capture these alluring droplets.
Meanwhile, standing behind the Duchess was a huge minotaur, exuding strength and power.
He was not only muscular, but also hairy.
His impressive cock, pulsating with vigor, found its way into her the deepest reaches of her pussy.
The Duchess's eyes gazed skyward, her plump, sticky tongue erotically peeking out, adorned with glistening trails of saliva and cum.
The minotaur, with a firm grip on her voluptuous crimson derriere, delivered resounding slaps, which made her bark loudly.
But no, no, these red marks wasn't the work of just this minotaur.
Several other men of every race had slapped that ass.
To be accurate, 70 men a day.
"Nnnnaahhhh~~ Nyessss~~ Hit me againnnn~ Make it harder you piece of traaa— Ahnnnnnn~~!"
Another slap, another horny bark from the Ducchess.
"ANNNNHNNN~~! NYEESSS~~! GONNEEEEEEHH~~!!"
The minotaur continued to fuck her, his powerful cock thrusting in and out of her cum-filled pussy with an intensity and swiftness that was truly remarkable.
"S... So hard... So gooood~~! So fuc— Ahhnnnnn~~!"
The Duchess' radiant smile grew wider as she savored the experience.
Her face smeared with the remnants of the collective cum of numerous gentlemen, and her mouth delicately tasting the mingling of their hot cum and her own saliva, made every man standing within the courtyard as hard as a rock.
To a level that some started to "beat the bishop".
Unyielding in his pursuit, the minotaur continued to penetrate the Duchess, while she firmly grasped the window frame, eagerly welcoming more of his pulsating cock.
The sensation of his cock forcefully colliding with her velvety pink walls, occasionally brushing against her womb, sent waves of ecstasy coursing through her being.
And then, in a display of unparalleled ardor, the minotaur seized her bosom, exerting such intense pressure that milk erupted from every pore of her nipples, cascading down upon the enraptured onlookers below.
"WOOO-HOOOOOOOOOO!!"
They all shouted rushing for the milk.
Mastur stood there calmly.
Jack then told Mastur, "Let's go get some of that milk shower!!!!!"
But Mastur stood there calmly, arms folded and head faced to the grounds.
"IMPOSSIBLE!!" it was then Jack noticed it.
In the depths of Mastur's pants, there was no reaction.
"Even after seeing something like that... He's not hard."
Indeed, the champion of the Erotic Goddess would never pitch a tent to something so weak.
---
Words of wisdom:
Beating the bishop: Masturbate, jerk off, jack off, jack it off, beat off, beat the meat, choke the chicken, jill, jill off, knock one off, knock one out, play with oneself, polish the pole, rub one out, slap the salami, spank the monkey, stroke it, tickle the sausage, toss off, wank, whack off.