A Trip To A Swamp II

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            Drip, drop, drip. It was probably the most painful five feet she had ever walked in her whole second coming. Orphelia could feel the sensation of the writhing slugs in her nuts as she followed the shapely mage back into her home. It was certainly bizarre, and Orphelia could muse on it all night, and come up with a dozen observations about the plethora of eye catching things she saw just on the walk to the chamber pot in the backroom, but these slugs were hell bent on making her cock dribble like a wounded beast.

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A Trip To A Swamp

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            Gold coins were pretty little things. They glimmered in torch light. They were heavy in the hand in juuust the right way. Nothing felt quite like that, and not a thing could do all they did. You could be the best farmer in the world, but eventually you’re going to find something that no amount of carrots can afford. Orphelia’s healthy interest in keeping a steady flow of gold kept her going and doing the oddest things that she would never willingly do for much of anything else. When it came to slaying beasts, and cashing in on their sliced off heads, Orphelia was an expert.

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