Hot Off the Presses: Into the Breeding Grounds by Jay Aury & Amanda Clover

Author:Jay Aury & Amanda Clover [Aury, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

The Breeder

Lacey wasn’t worried.

Sure, she was stuck underground with a horde of goblins, separated from the group, alone, and unarmed. But this was the perfect opportunity to further her story!

She smiled as she glided down the dark corridors. She needed no light, though the pitch darkness was suffocating. Her ears flicked, the air stale, but she could sense the subtle motion in it. Elves were highly attuned to the ebbs and flows of their surroundings. Coupled with skills learned through decades of living in the forest and the groves, she felt confident that she could find her way around, and avoid any unnecessary dangers.

And when she smelled the faint scent of smoke and cooking meat, she knew she’d just found some very necessary danger.

Her feet whispered across the floor as she hurried down the stone passage. A crumbling doorway lay ahead, half open. Not far, a pair of goblin guards were sitting, playing a game with bones and some dice. Now and then they glanced at the doorway, but it was clear they weren’t really paying attention. After all, what could happen so deep in their own lair?

Lacey happened, waiting until the attention of the guards were once more on the dice before she slipped by and into the room, shutting the crude wooden door behind her with a creak.

The room she was in looked to have once been some kind of ritual chamber, though now served as someone’s home. An altar sat in the middle, blood channels carved to form leering faces. The walls were draped with roots, half obscuring the strange images carved in the stone. A fire had been kindled in a corner, an empty spit suspended above it.

“Who are you?”

Lacy jumped, turned towards where a mass of straw and plundered fabric had been gathered in a bed in the corner, and upon it lay an elf.

She was far curvier than Lacey, but that was no surprise. All elven matriarchs plumped up a little as they entered their second millenia or so. Her hair was a brilliant white, if somewhat matted, her breasts heavy and full, nipples plump and Lacey caught the sweet scent of milk in the air. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to the wall, but her eyes looked more amused than beaten or fearful.

“Um, hi,” Lacey said. “I’m Lacey Windemere.”

“Windemere?” the other elf said, sitting up attentively. “Any relation to Frayura Windemere?”

Lacey gasped. “That’s my aunt! Did you know her?”

The other elf lazily stood, a picture of shapely beauty. Her chains clinked as she planted a hand on a wide, breeding hip. “I should say so! Why, we met centuries ago, sucking the cock of the Horned One himself. Didn’t she ever talk about Amaria Loveroot?”

“You’re that Amaria? Oh my gosh!” Lacey gushed. “She always talked about how you and she left the grove together! Did you really end up as a fertility idol to a minotaur clan?”

Amaria laughed until her breasts bounced. “Well, you know how it is. Take enough bull cocks

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