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Ryth was in a sour mood when traveling the high road from Tappahannock to the northern province of Lytria. It was a barbarous place but he needed to cross through it. Lytria was home mostly to a porcine race of snort-snouts whose women were as unsightly as the animals they took after.

Not only was the sun high and bright, but he had no steed, and no one to carry his equipment. It was light and ordinary, fitting for his status as a knight-errant, but not meant to be traveled in so roughly.

While cursing his boots and the sun and the itch on his inner thigh he crossed paths with a massive swine. The boarwoman was with her attendant in tow; she had a portly tummy and heavy, giant tits like a hag. She rode atop a horse that looked like it struggled to bear her weight but had not the voice to complain. Her ratling attendant looked similarly displeased. A general look of desperation fell over the lithe male's features as he hauled some of her baggage.

"You, there, take pause," the 'woman' - if she could be called that - said. Her voice was deep and husky. Her snout was faintly wet in a displeasing way, and long, chipped tusks jutted from her grumpy muzzle.

So, Ryth paused but made his irritation very plain in his tone and expression. "I've a long way to travel. And not much time or energy."

"What is your heading?"

"That is my business," Ryth held his hand to his sword's hilt and stood upright. He had no desire to be shaken down or interrogated by this she-beast.

"Is something the matter?" Her voice betrayed no concern or thoughtfulness to Ryth's condition, but her words spoke to some small reservation or perhaps offense.

"The matter is I would rather bake in the sun in mail than converse with a hideous hag of your caliber. Move aside, loop-tail, before you disgrace yourself further."

Ryth smirked. Dumb hogs. They looked tough but they weren't anything to worry about. Most especially the females. They had a reputation for being incredibly whorish - amusing, as among most races it was shameful to admit you'd laid with a sow. Ryth had often shuddered at the thought when companions would joke about it at the tavern.

There was always one though, that leaned into it. Either claiming they had, or they would. The shameless sort. For some reason, as he watched her descend from her saddle he thought not about why she was doing so, but that tall tale he'd heard.

A story of a great, thick sow's ass threatening to snap his friend's pelvis with its eagerness. A happy trail of rich, tangled, dark hair that ran from his conquest's cunt to her belly button. Sweat. Hair. Squealing sounds. And a slot that felt loose and sloppy.

He always fell quiet during talks like that. Despite being a handsome lad he'd not actually experienced the pleasure of a woman, of any form. His pretty blonde hair, sharp features, and skill as a warrior made him quite attractive. He just shied from loose female advances. A man should preserve himself for his wife, he thought. And he resolved to have his first experience with a woman on his wedding night.

Ryth blushed as he realized he'd been eyeing the swine's ass. It was rotund, thicker than any wolfess and most certainly any human female he'd seen. But with her having a face like a pool of vomit he didn't admire long.

What faint smile he held faded when he realized she was nearly a head over him. Wide as a barrel and looking just as sturdy. She may have had a belly, but her arms were cut with muscles. His breath caught in his throat at the smoldering expression she gave him.

"Apologize for your insulting words or I will be forced to seek satisfaction."

He scoffed, "Satisfaction? Please. Dueling is outlawed." He spat on the ground.

"Not in Lytria."

"'Well, I am not a citizen of Lytria, and you won't coerce me into an apology for pointing out the truth." He pointed at her and turned up his nose, brushing a bit of his blonde hair from his eyes.

"But I am a citizen of Lytria and that is the only requirement. Servant!" She snapped at her page. The ratling scurried over. "Inform him."

The deranged, exhausted-looking ratling adjusted the sacks on his back and croaked out an introduction, bowing low before the snortsnout that was his liege.

"Announcing, Seraphina Velomouth, Baroness of Slopespine, champion, and veteran of the Second Gnoll uprising, accomplished duelist and advisor to King Greyam of Lytria."

Ryth's mouth hung open. What a mendacious claim! A baroness would not be dressed in such simple garments as this porker was. Her clothes were cheaper than his own. This must have been a bluff or something!

"Felip, my armor," She said softly, the barest hint of femininity in her voice. Felip the ratling was on it at once, producing her equipment from his bags. She exhaled roughly at Ryth. "You will be given a lesson in respect, boy."

Ryth wasn't sure what to say at all, he wanted to tell her to wait, to give pause to all this. But, Felip was already adorning her with armor. From hoof to head, and he was fast about it. Ryth couldn't help but notice the damp patches of sweat, under her arms, breasts, butt, and tummy, that were soaked to her clothing. All concealed now by heavy dark iron plate.

"We fight to first blood. In Lytria, you must declare your prize before the duel begins."

"M-my prize?" Ryth took a backfoot and was bewildered. "Must we duel?"

"We must. If you leave here and tell of how you insulted a Baroness of Lytria without punishment we would lose face. I would lose face."

It was almost amusing, with how brutish her face was, perhaps losing it would be a benefit. A beauty mark blemished her upper lip in a mockery of her feminity.

"My life?"

She rolled her eyes. "I won't kill you, you scoundrel. You'll be awarded a purse of one hundred gold coins."

Felip piped up, "And your prize for the record, ma'am?" His previous tiredness seemed to have faded now that he was free of her gear, and he tottered from paw to paw.

The squealer looked to her squire and then back to Ryth with a burning intensity to her brown eyes. "Your seed."

"My what!" Ryth blithered, with the threat of death having just been removed, he sighed in relief, but the confusion of her demand hit him. "I don't understand."

"You will once you lose." The oinker placed her helmet around her and shut closed the visor. A welcome reprieve from looking at her ugly face. His eyes drifted to the brutal, long bardiche she wielded—an advantage in height and in reach.

Ryth drew his blade and slung his shield off his back and fell into a fighting stance. He was young, but he'd faced many foes on the battlefield taller than him. And wider. And male! Women, almost universally across the races, were weaker. It was the natural order of things!

Coping, self-soothing thoughts that did a little to help the fear shaking his knees. Seed. Seed meant semen, right? What was she going to—

Seraphina charged into him, head down, crashing into him and throwing him to the floor. The immense strength in her body and legs lifted him up a solid foot and then sent him ass first into the earth.

She swiftly knocked aside what meager defense Ryth mounted from the floor, digging the bardiche's tip to his neck, right under the chin, digging into it.

"Submit."

Ryth had no choice, with the wind knocked out of him, and his head pounding, he had no recourse. He nodded his head slowly, cursing himself for being so prideful. He felt a small knick, she'd poked the skin and drawn blood.

"I see blood, ma'am! Congratulations, another success!" Felip called Ryth despite the pressing circumstance noticed he was awkwardly knock-kneed and slightly hunched over.

She smiled and it was just as unsightly as her grimace. She lifted Ryth with the same difficulty he did a leaflet of paper. Held in her grasp single-handed, he could only drag his boots to the soil as he was moved.

The uncooked slab of bacon reeked of warm sweat and a strange tang Ryth was too unfamiliar with to recognize. It was notes of arousal he'd soon come to understand. He was dragged to the side of the road, just passed the treeline. Out of sight and mercifully in the shade. It was easily several degrees cooler under the sturdy boughs of the oaks around them.

He was unceremoniously thrust against a tree, back to the bark. When he caught himself, he rasped up at her, "What are you doing? Will you kill me?"

Both she and Felip began laughing, cackling. "No," she answered. "Now, silence."

Felip brought her mount around and laced it to a suitable posting, and then he began helping Seraphina to disrobe. With each layer, Ryth's fear grew alongside her joy. In no time at all the great sow was in but her tunic and trousers.

She drew up her top slowly, revealing her brownish-red and thin fur and a set of perspiration-damp chest bindings. Ryth regarded Felip, looking at anything but the slavering mouth of the tusked terror before him. He was treated with an absolutely abhorrent display from the ratling - the squire was desperately clutching between his legs as he watched his lady disrobe.

A rough, leathery, dirt-covered hand grabbed Ryth's clean mug and forced it to look at her. The intensity in her lust-struck eyes was all he needed to know not to look away. She let the strip of cloth fall, tugging between her breasts with her thumb to loosen it.

Ryth's first sight of a pair of tits, and it was in this situation. Grim. But, despite himself, his mouth went dry. So, that's how they looked? Big was a simplistic way to put it. The boar-bitch had a mother's figure when it came to her chest. Thick pink nipples sat semi-obscured by fur and gave a hint to piebald skin that lay underneath all her moisture-laden fur.

Ryth pulled his eyes from the sight just to notice her yank off a thin silver chain with a key on the end, which she tossed to Felip.

The ratling gasped and made a noise so joyful Ryth thought he'd begin crying. "Really?" the squire asked.

Seraphina snorted, the hot breath washing over Ryth's face. She nodded, but without breaking eye contact with her small human prize.

She grasped the back of his neck and without warning, shoved her tongue down his mouth by force. Her rough tusks brushed his cheeks and threatened his eyes. He made a mournful sound as her wide and textured tongue coiled around his. Ryth put his hands out, sinking into her stomach and hips, trying to push her off. This only emboldened his assailant!

She moaned into his mouth with such force it rumbled his throat. He gagged on it, his eyes wincing shut when they weren't looking up at her with desperation. Her wet snout sniffed at his face and tapped him as she moved side to side. Deaf ears were the audience for his pleas, as he woefully realized his first kiss was stolen by this old boar.

She humped against his body with a crushing force, thrusting up against him. Shamefully, his cock was roused by the incessant rubbing of her knee. She pulled her face back with a gasp.

"Your mouth tastes splendid." Her husky voice produced a shiver in him.

She pulled back only enough to tear down his trousers to his knees, her large hands fumbling with his belt as her tongue licked behind his ear, and rolled around his neck. She took great pains to pull it off him as much as she could. He felt alight with shame at being exposed and even worse, visibly aroused.

It wasn't helped by the fact that the page was watching and slowly masturbating on his knees. Ryth didn't notice him release himself, but Felip was normally kept strictly chaste. Rare was it that Seraphina gave him the key to his cock cage.

"Now look at that. I bet human women love it." Her tongue dragged across the palm of one of her hands, making a show of lubricating her palm to him. She grasped his cock with her calloused hand and stroked. It caused him to lurch forward to try and prevent it - but she locked him down with a forceful knock of her forearm to his chest, holding him against the tree.

His dick was an average, modest length, but it was dwarfed by her hand and her size. The wet, but rough handjob was far more intense than Ryth's body expected. The conflicting shame threatening to boil over and expel itself as a muttering plea for her to stop was held at bay by an undeniable arousal.

He looked at her tits with a sullen, but lusty gaze. When Seraphina detected his arousal in the jumping pulse of the cock in her hand she let go. He bit his lip in anger at himself for the thrust forward his body made him do.

"Pull down my clothes."

He only had a second's hesitation before his hands moved down her hips and by her belt, trying and failing to remove her buckle and pants. “Nevermind, novice." She exhaled harshly, slapping his hands away before dropping trow and her simple cloth panties.

He shook with nerves trying not to look, but it wasn't Seraphina's hand that forced his attention to her now exposed cunt, it was his own burning curiosity. He looked down from the dark, black, tapering line of hair that ran from her belly button down to the object of many men's desires.

Puffy, soaking wet so bad he could see it on the labia, tucked tightly between a pair of thighs that could crush his bones. Instinctively his shaft throbbed and head swelled, drooling a web of pre that dangled and caught to her fur. The heat radiating off it made his resolve wilt.

Was it like the stories? Was she going to fuck him? He couldn't allow it. No, what about his future bride? He wanted to cry, not this way, not with that. But his body felt different. His body demanded he fulfill his biological imperative. After all, a willing female was dangling her cunt above his shaft.

She waited not for his approval, nor needed it. After giving him a good look at her pussy, proud at how conflicted she'd made him, she hoisted him up. He made a pathetic little sound as he was positioned like a slut, his legs forced nearly all the way to the sides of his head. Muscles he didn't even know he had were stretched and strained as she locked him into an Amazonian position against the tree.

He couldn't look down, he couldn't see it, what with her heavy and sweaty body pressing up against him. But he could feel it. Heavenly. At least, that's what his cock thought. The rest of him crawled with a chill of disgust. Something incredibly wet and warm, and terribly loose, slid up and down his shaft.

It felt so amazing his skin tingled. It felt so horrible he moaned in distress. He felt so tiny compared to her, physically and the length of his dick. But she didn't seem to mind, in fact after just a few moments she was squealing like a whore. A low, heady whine of lust rolled from the forest as the baroness raped the virginity from her defeated foe.

She didn't say it, but she was surprised he didn't blow his load in seconds. This was a treat, feeling his soft, smooth, straight rod drive right into her g-spot. Her drenched, sloppy, sweaty cunt slammed down so hard on Ryth's pelvis that the day after he'd wake with bruising.

And all the while he was being held up by his back and butt, using the tree as a support. His hands swapped between grasping at the bark and pathetically pushing at her chest in a frail attempt at slowing or stopping this. Half-made words of begging croaked from his throat.

Suddenly, some wonderful feeling began riding up his dick. He felt himself tense up. The only thing that was keeping his orgasm back was the steady feeling of distress and disgust at her form. But that was nothing against the repeated assault on his nethers.

It was over anyway, wasn't it? He'd had his virginity roughly fucked from him, in the woods, by a filthy loop-tail. It was when he realized he'd be the laughingstock of all his mates if they ever learned of this that his strength was entirely drained. He offered no defense, no struggle, as he was tongue-tied forcibly, again.

His orgasm was telegraphed but still, the moment he tipped over the edge struck him with the same surprise Seraphina's assault did. He couldn't deny it, the feeling of pleasure and relief that overcame his entire form as his balls emptied themselves into the gaped pigpussy.

None of his rare masturbation sessions, or his wildest fantasies or guesses, prepared him for the feeling of cumming raw into a cunt. The absolute depravity of letting a sow take him only seemed to intensify the feeling. He had no control to counter-thrust back at her weighty body, but even so, he thrashed in her grasp.

He moaned into her mouth and she squealed, constant reminders of just who was abusing him. But, his cumming wasn't the end, she wasn't done yet. She stopped her fucking and forced his dick to hilt her fully. His sore penis throbbed and twitched with twinges of discomfort at the overstimulation. She stuck her hand to her clit and rubbed, each rotating movement brushing her knuckles to his tummy and making her pussy clench. A slick, short hiss sounded out her orgasm, and he felt his thighs get soaked.

With as much ceremony as she'd defeated him the baroness dropped her toy to the damp grass below the tree. She dressed, watching him idly as Ryth sheepishly collected himself. She was plenty satisfied.

“Enjoy your sojourn in Lytria," she said mockingly, before leaving.

Ryth noticed after the pair had left that the ratling had spilled his seed to the ground while watching the ravishing he endured. That only made him feel more filthy. He reeked of boar pussy, soaked with it, skin and clothes.

Worst of all. After he finally had legs enough to stand and walk back to the road, his tool was still thrumming and tingling with pleasure. It was the best orgasm of his life and a shameful fap for many nights in the future.