Esmeralda the Evil Necromancer 3

Esme's hands shook with excitement as she locked the front door of her magic shop. She was closing early today. It was her anniversary, and after the parcel delivery boy dropped off her present for Alfric, she just couldn't wait out the rest of the day. She was sure whatever customers might have come in would forgive her. Or not. She didn't care about anyone's opinion but her beloved.

And she knew he was gonna love this gift.

Esme practically floated down the Arborrest streets as she took the quickest route home. After a few years of adventuring, she and Alfric had settled down here, together. The last three years had been the most fulfilling of her life. She'd opened a small magic shop, and he did a little of everything. He apprenticed with the blacksmith, a baker, a carpenter; he never lost that sense of adventure, even after they'd mostly aged out of it. She loved it, it just meant he kept the variety in their daily life fun and interesting.

The house was locked when she arrived, but it didn't strike her as odd. Alfric wasn't working anywhere right now, but he knew it was their anniversary. Maybe he was out getting food to make a delicious dinner, or running to grab a last minute gift. Or just going for a midday stroll. Regardless of where he was, she saw it as a boon. She had time alone to get his present extra ready.

Esme nearly dropped her house key as she unlocked the door. She was giddy as a little girl. Every day with Alfric was the best day of her life, but the special occasions were the extra best. Depositing her shoes by the door, Esme nearly ran to the bedroom. Alfric might be home any second, and she wanted to be ready ready when he arrived.

Esme lit the bedside candles before drawing the blinds shut. She then lit a few more. She wanted him to see his present, after all. Esme unwrapped the package, then laid out the contents. She very nearly jumped for joy as she beheld it. It was a single article of clothing, but it had cost her more than most of the magic trinkets she sold. And it was worth it.

Esme pulled her clothes off as fast as she could, tossing them into a messy pile in the corner of the room. Carefully, she slipped into the custom tailored lingerie she'd had made just for today. It fit like a dream. Better than a dream, considering it was far more impressive than even she had dared hope.

The teddy hugged her every curve and corner with a fabric that was thin as air, and incredibly stretchy. The side panels were sheer, while the front had a lovely floral pattern in black and dark blue. The cups were an absolute wonder. Not only did they manage to withstand her unnaturally immense bust, the underwire gave her the support to have truly monumental cleavage. And both of her snow-white mountains were fringed with impressively intricate black lace that contrasted the pale skin beneath. The thinness and tightness of the fabric meant that the two circles of her nipple piercings were fully visible. It also meant that the small seepage of milk from her nipples bled through almost immediately. She probably should've milked herself before putting the lingerie on, but Alfric loved to squeeze it out of her mid-coitus, and there was no way she'd deprive him of that joy on their anniversary.

Esme heard the front door open, and almost jumped out of the lingerie with a start. He was back already! She stopped admiring her amazing, imperfect body, and rushed to the small stash under her bedside table. Esme dipped two fingers into the little pot of lube, and carefully spread it around the entrance to her sex. She wiped her fingers off on her thigh before making sure the crotch of her teddy was in place again. All that was left was to position herself sexily on the bed.

Should she lay on her back, legs spreadeagle, the negative space forming an unsubtle arrow pointing him exactly where he should go? That could be fun. If she truly wanted to shed any pretense of subtly, though, she could get on her hands and knees, and point her ass towards him like a bitch in heat. It would get the point across real fast, but she also wanted to showcase the lingerie, and her butt was definitely swallowing most of the fabric back there. Esme heard steps coming down the hall and panicked. Jumping on the bed, she lounged on her side, one hand propping up her head while the other draped seductively at her hip.

The bedroom door swung open, and a man who wasn't Alfric stood there. A whole host of not-Alfrics, in fact. An entire squad of guards poured into her martial bedroom without announcement or permission. A voice deep inside Esme told her to grab the magical rod she kept under her pillow. It had three spells inscribed to it: a short range teleport, an invisibility enchant, and a spell powerful enough to level her home, and end any intruder along with it. She could grab it and be halfway to the next town before the dust settled.

But, that was the old her talking. She was a new woman. No longer a villain, she was a productive, important member of society. The guard existed to protect people like her. She pushed that fear and paranoia of her old life down, and decided to trust.

The guards filed into the bedroom and formed equal flanks on either side of the door. A number threw lecherous glances her way, and one even swore under his breath at the first sight of her. It was flattering, in a way, but Esme was upset someone saw her husband's special gift before Alfric did. A guard captain followed the squad in, filling the door as he arrived. His eyes grew wide as he saw her, then a small smile quirked his lip. The look made her skin crawl.

"Esme Flint, wife of Alfric Flint?" The guard captain asked, his eyes raking over her body.

"That's me," Esme said. She tried to close off her body language to give herself any amount of modesty, but she was far too exposed. "Is everything alright? Is he okay?"

"I'm afraid not," the captain said, and her heart sank down to the soles of her feet. What could have possibly happened? Alfric was so strong and careful, she couldn't fathom what would pose a threat to him in the small city they lived in. The guard captain made a small gesture, and suddenly the other guards rushed to her. Before she could react, Esme's arms were shackled behind her back in thick iron cuffs, and massive, burly guards had death grips on her upper arms.

"What's the meaning of this?" She demanded. "What is going on?"

"Esme Flint," the captain said her name like a proclamation. "Alias. Esmeralda Wynne. Alias. You are the Witch-Necromancer. Scourge of the Dark Wood and enemy to Arborrest, and all of mankind. You are under arrest for crimes against humanity, crimes against nature, and crimes against God."

"No…" Esme said, breathlessly. She never thought this could happen. By the time she and Alfric had settled here, the Witch-Necromancer was a long faded memory. Gone for years, there weren't even Wanted posters anymore. But even if there were, the landscape of her face had changed between the magical weight gain, and the years of adventuring. Plus, she'd always kept her hair short since she used to be known for her long locks. She'd even used the name Esme exclusively since she'd met Alfric! All traces of her old self should be gone. This shouldn't be happening. "You have the wrong person."

"I'm sure," he replied with an incredulous sneer. "Take her to the barracks dungeon," he ordered the guards holding her, "I'll inform Minister Oliver. I'm sure he'll be happy to come down and identify you at his earliest convenience."

"Can't I at least change?" She pled. She didn't want to parade through the town in her most private apparel. She certainly didn't want to sit in a dank dungeon in lingerie.

"No, I think the men will appreciate the display," his mouth curled into that lascivious grin, again. Then, to the men holding her, he ordered, "Go. And put her in the stockades. With as much ass as she's packing, it'll make for quite a sight."

"What?" Esme nearly screamed every word, "This is wrong! Don't do this! You can't treat me like this!" She struggled as best she could, but the guards easily hauled her to her feet and led her away. She was powerless against them. They dragged her until she got her feet under her and scrambled to keep up with their long, purposeful strides. As they passed the captain, he lashed out, slapping her exposed ass hard enough that she yelped and jumped. Her whole body jiggled on the landing, and she felt lucky nothing popped out of the thin garment she wore. She knew she'd have a bright red handprint before they even made it to the barracks. "You can't do this!" She groaned feebly, fight almost entirely gone from her.

"Oh, we'll be doing a whole lot more than dragging ya around," the guard on her right said, his voice husky, and dripping with lust. She should have grabbed her rod. She should have demolished half the city in her escape. This was bad. This was real bad.

Esme tried to calm her frantic mind. She couldn't give up hope. Alfric was still out there. He'd saved her at her lowest moment, before. This looked bad. It felt hopeless. But it wasn't as bad as the last time.

Yet.

The walk through the town was humiliating. Hungry, lecherous leers followed her down every street, and around every corner. Mothers covered their children's eyes, and wives elbowed their ogling husbands. Esme watched friends and neighbors glare at her with hatred, disdain, and mistrust in their eyes. No one they passed said or did anything in her defense, they simply watched with judgment in their hearts. Every step on the dirty cobblestones scraped and scuffed her bare feet. The teddy, which was designed for light bedroom play and not for long public strolls, felt like it was coming apart at every single seam. Each step weighed heavier and heavier on her soul. The only reason she didn't break down was Alfric.

She held the image of her beloved in her mind. His ruddy, blushing cheeks. His fiery copper hair, which had transmuted to silver at his temples. His brilliant smile that let her know everything was okay. Just as they arrived at the guard barracks, he would show up and make some quip about how she was underdressed for the weather, then lay all of these guards out single-handed. He had never let her down, and never would.

Esme was nearly in tears by the time they made it to the barracks. Her feet were gross and bloody from the miles-long trudge. One of the side panels of her teddy had started to unravel. Her legs were sore from practically running the whole way to keep up with the brutal guards. And her imprisonment hadn't even begun. She clutched at hope she no longer felt like a drowning woman imagining what air was like.

The guards seemed to parade Esme around the barracks, weaving her through various sections, taking a circuitous route rather than simply going straight to the dungeon. Every guard they passed watched her with lust-hooded eyes, libidinous desire evident in every look. It was so much worse than the men on the street, who ogled with impotent thirst. The men here held her in bondage; they could far easier manifest their sexual impulses. The threat of their fantasies was far more real.

Esme felt her heart and hope fall further and further with each step she took deeper into the barracks. She was sniffling and struggling before the last one. Would Alfric even be able to find her? How would he even know where to look? She was going to live out her few remaining days in some sunless pit, beneath the crushing weight of a hundred lusty men with too much power and too little oversight.

The guards unlocked a massive mahogany door with thick iron bands and a multi-key latch. As they dragged her into this large, secured chamber, Esme's breath caught in her throat. The room was circular and windowless, with wall torches filling it with harsh, bright light. The only other exit was another, equally impressive door opposite the one they came in. The floor was slanted slightly, with a drain near the center, so any liquid could easily wash away. Above the drain were a set of wooden stocks; thick and intimidating, they were left open, ready and waiting for Esme's arrival. But the thing that upset her the most, the reason her last few drops of hope evaporated to nothing: Alfric lay huddled and battered against one wall.

His face was a series of brown and purple bruises that were so swollen that one of his eyes was completely swallowed. His arms were behind his back—no doubt bound similar to her own—and a small stream of blood flowed out of him towards the drain. As the guards carted Esme in, he clearly grew frantic and worried, and attempted to get to his feet, despite his bruised and battered body.

"Esme!" He groaned as he struggled to stand. "No… The guards… they won't listen to me… I tried to tell them! You're not a villain. You're not the Witch-Necromancer!" He was missing some of his teeth, and he only barely managed to stand. He was in no condition to save her. He was in no condition to save himself.

"Oh, Alfric, no." Her heart broke seeing him so beaten, but it broke even worse knowing it was her fault. This was all her fault. Turning to the guards, she begged, "Please let him go. You have me, you don't need him any longer."

"Admit your guilt, first." A strangely familiar, yet hard to place voice said from across the room. "Confess your sins, and he shall be freed." The man who spoke looked like no man she had ever seen, yet somehow like every man ever. His head was bare of any identifying features, and his clothing was regal, but not ostentatious. His eyes had an inhuman gleam to them, and his smile had zero warmth. His aura was sinister and oily, and she didn't trust a word he said. But, she also didn't have any choice. If it got Alfric out of this, she'd confess to any crime, real or fabricated.

"Minister Oliver, you're here already!" One of the guards said with a start. Minister Oliver. Other than it being mentioned earlier, Esme had never heard the name before. She didn't even know what a minister did. She'd kept out of politics all her life here.

"Of course," the minister replied. "I've been waiting a long time to bring Esmeralda Wynne to justice." How did he know her? The whole world forgot the Witch-Necromancer. She, herself, barely remembered that life, and she had lived it. The minister drew out a wicked looking dagger with a short, sharply curving blade, and pointed it towards Alfric. Her husband was still on his feet, but only just. He was in no position to defend himself.

"Now," the minister continued, "admit what you and I already know, and there will be no further reason to torment this innocent man." He gestured dramatically with the blade, before concluding, "Or, continue your life of lies, this mockery of decency, and things will only get worse. Much worse."

"It's true," Esme admitted. "I am Esmeralda Wynne. I was once known as the Witch-Necromancer." The look in Alfric's one lucid eye made her soul shatter. He barely had a gasp on consciousness, and her confession shook his tenuous tether to reality irreparably.

"No…" he said in a hoarse whisper. Esme watched as the man she loved, her husband and truest friend, realized the depth of the charade she'd constructed. Their whole life together had been a lie. Not only had she not been who he thought, she actually was a villain he'd sought to slay. His look soured and his heart turned cold. "Please say it isn't so…"

"It is," Esme admitted. Tears streaked down her face as she confessed the reality of her past. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

They stared at each other, then. Seeing one another truly for the first time. Esme felt a misery deeper than any she'd ever felt. This was it. The end of her happy life, the end of her freedom. The end to the cherished lie she managed to enjoy for half a decade. She would lament its passing, mourn the loss of her perfect life, for however long she'd be allowed to live. But, at least Alfric got to live. Her confession should seal his innocence, and allow him to live the rest of his life. Hopefully he could someday recover from her betrayal.

"Perfect," Minister Oliver said as if they were making weekend brunch plans, rather than tearing apart a marriage. "Well, with her confession, we no longer need you." In all this horror show, that much was at least a blessing. Alfric would walk free. Her last act of good before being tried for her crimes. "Sorry to have to do this." With a shrug, Oliver lurched forward, and stabbed his dagger right into Alfric's stomach.

"No!" Esme screamed. Alfric fell to the floor, lifeblood streaming out as his consciousness faded away. She tried to break away and run to him, but the guards holding her arms were as solid as stone. There was no give as she threw all her weight and muscle against them. "He was innocent! He didn't know!"

"Then he was a fool," Oliver said with obvious contempt. "You seem to attract fools, Mistress." When he said the word, it finally unlocked where she knew him from.

"Olivo!" Esme said the name, but didn't believe it. It shouldn't be possible.

"Looks like we've both added a little meat to our bones since we last met," her one-time skeleton steward said with a smirk.

"How…?" It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. Alfric was gone. Her own necromantic creation had returned to ruin her life. Again.

"You? I'm guessing sedentary lifestyle and lavish eating. Maybe a few pregnancies judging by the disgusting milk your body seems to be leaking. Me? I made some dark deals using the magical items and tomes you left behind. Thanks to you, I'm one of the most powerful, influential, and rich men in the whole city."

"Why? Why now? Why me? Why this?" She didn't understand. If he was happily in power, what was there to gain by ruining her small, simple life.

"Because I can," he said, coldly. "Because you don't deserve happiness. Because. You made me without purpose or plan, with no goals to achieve with my endless unlife. And when I finally seized the reins of my destiny, you robbed me of even that small consideration."

"You were going to force me to give birth to goblins!" Esme screamed. Her throat was raw and her whole being felt exhausted and drained. She was in too much emotional pain to feel human anymore. "Over and over, until I died!"

"Yes, well. If you'd simply stayed and fulfilled that purpose I would have had my empire years ago," there was no hint of sarcasm or humanity to his tone, just cruelty and hatred. He loathed her for the simple crime of wanting her bodily autonomy. "It really is too bad that you're past your prime breeding years. I guess all you're good for is giving our guards some much needed stress relief. Put her in the stockades, boys. She's free to use for any guard who wants a turn."

"No!" Her voice cracked with desperation as she screamed impotently. No one who could hear it cared. Three guards manhandled her, removing her cuffs before they bent her over and locked the stockade down on her. The bolt slid home, securing her body, and her fate. There was no more resisting. There wouldn't be any daring escape with a magical earring. She was trapped, and at their mercy.

The mercy they didn't seem to have.

"Finally," one of the guards muttered as Olivo retreated through one of the massive doors. "I don't need to hear her whole life story, I just wanna get off."

"Seriously," another responded as he unstrapped his breastplate, "I've been watching her fat ass jiggle for miles. My dick's been chafing against my codpiece since we grabbed her."

"Don't get impatient," a third said from directly behind her. She couldn't believe how casually they were all discussing this. Her violation was just chitchat to them. "It's my turn to go first, innit?" Cold hands landed on either side of her ass, but the shiver that ran up Esme's spine wasn't from the temperature. The guard's greedy little fingers rubbed circles into either cheek, as his erection pressed against her sex through the whisper-thin fabric of her lingerie.

"Please," Esme whimpered feebly, "please don't." The guards didn't even bother responding. The man behind her pulled the crotch of her teddy to one side—not bothering to unlatch the hook and eye closures—then thrust his entire length into her. Esme's weak protests caught in her throat as he roughly fucked her. She was just an object to them.

"Fuck," the guard said as he snapped his hips like a whip crack. "She really got this hole ready for us." She didn't. She didn't do anything for them. She did it for Alfric. Everything she did, she did for Alfric.

Alfric… Esme sobbed. Tears rolled down her face. Unhindered. Endless. But, her cries didn't move them. She wailed as the first guard came inside her, but it didn't matter. He pulled out, stepped aside, and the next guard slammed into her, giving her less than a handful of seconds reprieve.

The second guard was far rougher than the first. His thrusts were so forceful, Esme felt like her whole body would be forced through the head hole of the stockade. He spanked her butt and hip violently, and her whole side ached and burned before long. Not that that slowed down his abuse. He didn't care about her, he only wanted to get off, and he clearly got off on violence.

The third guard paused as he lined up behind her. Rather than pull her teddy to the side like the previous two, he grabbed the light fabric in his thick hands, and tore it apart. Esme would've mourned the destruction if she had any tears left. They were all gone; she'd run out so early.

The guard rammed his cock into her so hard that the pervious loads squeezed out of her. Despite this explosive start, however, he set a much gentler, almost careful rhythm. His predecessors had simply pounded their own pleasures out of her, like a blacksmith forging a sword. They were too rough, too violent; but that lack of compassion was something she could endure. It was artless abuse. This was closer to real sex, closer to making love, and that easy comparison made her sick inside.

But, also, that reality almost seemed to confuse her body. As the guard thrust into her with a tender, almost loving pace, a warmth she hadn't felt for anyone but Alfric began to build deep within her core. She tried so hard to ignore it, to force the feeling out of her. These monsters had already taken so much. They'd taken her anniversary, her present, her love. Her life. Her Alfric. They'd taken it all, and she couldn't let them take any more.

The guard's long arms reached around her body, and cupped her breasts. His fingers danced across the piercings, and over the wet peaks of her nipples. He caressed and massaged her even as he gently fucked her. A pitiful, miserable, treacherous moan escaped her as that unwanted warmth built and grew until it was a blazing inferno.

She didn't want this. She didn't want any of this, of course, but she especially didn't want to enjoy this violation. If nothing else, could they not leave her last orgasm as something shared with Alfric. Couldn't they grant her even that small boon?

Apparently not.

As the guard thrust into her so incredibly, blissfully deep, and his delicate fingers squeezed her stiff nipples in exactly the right way through the milk-soaked fabric of her lingerie, Esme came. She tried to hold back the onrush of pleasure. She tried to quell the overwhelming convulsions. She desperately tried to stiffle her orgasmic cry. But she didn't. Esme came like any other time, her pussy clenching the guard's cock as her panting moans of pleasure rolled out of her in crashing waves of ecstasy.

"C'mon Collins," a voice said from an immeasurable distance. Esme was barely coherent during the best of orgasms, but as she rode these bliss-filled waves she had no desire to interface with reality. "There are twenty of us with our dicks in our hands. Stop getting the fuckmeat off, and just come already."

The guard came, but Esme barely felt it. It was just a nice, little warmth added to her already comfortable moment. He laid a kiss into the small of her back, and was gone.

The next cock destroyed the tiny bit of happiness that had been forced on her. Thick and long, it stretched her pussy in every direction as it was thrust into her without preparation or warning. It squeezed an animalistic grunt out of her as it forced her cunt to spread wide. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, drool dripping from the tip as he fucked her mercilessly. Her body never got a chance to acclimate. As soon as his overwhelming rod slammed into her, it retreated immediately. Her pussy burned as it was pushed past the limit of comfort, but he didn't slow or ease his urgent rhythm.

His strong hands found her breasts, but rather than fondle or caress, he buried his thick fingers into the lace and pulled. The wet cups of her bespoke teddy shredded in his mighty grip, her tits flopping out in different directions. Now loosed, Esme's tits bounced and wobbled with his furious fucking, droplets of milk being flicked in every direction. As the thick cock twitched inside her, his hands gripped her breasts roughly. Milk sprayed from her as he crushed her tits and came inside her.

"Holy shit," yet another guard said. "I thought she was a fat little piggy. But it turns out she's a milk cow. Look! She even has little cow piercings!" The guard squatted beside her and started milking her like a cow. Bent over, with her tits dangling, it wasn't a hard comparison to make. Even as the next guard started fucking her, the one beside her kept squeezing and massaging her breasts. He tugged on her piercings, and even got underneath her to suckle her teat. She was at her limit. Beyond it. She was ready to let go. There was nothing left for her on this world, why should she hold on any longer?

"Esme…" Alfric groaned. Esme's eyes grew wide, and went searching for her beloved. He was still alive. Laying on his side, blood slowly leaking from his stomach, he was staring right at her. He was still conscious. The tiniest glimmer of hope lit in her heart.

The guard inside her finished, and it was as if he shot the cum straight through her, smothering that freshly rekindled hope. Alfric was alive. Watching as the whole guard complement fucked her one at a time. Semen poured from her abused sex as the guard pulled out. It hit the floor with a sick splatter, and mixed with the stream of Alfric's blood collecting in the drain beneath her.

They mingled together. Her old life was dying, bleeding out on the floor; her future was abuse and misuse, being filled up, one pearly white load after another. She couldn't handle it any more. The inhuman brutality, the constant degradation. It was finally too much for her.

Esme's mind broke from reality, and she disassociated, drifting away to a place where no one could touch or harm her ever again, blessedly unaware as the next guard stepped up behind her.