Wicked Thrusts in the Forbidden Vault
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Shadows of the Emerald Abyss 🔥
The humid air clung to my skin like a lover’s sweat-slicked body as I hacked through the overgrown vines choking the entrance to the ancient vault. I’m Zane, a once-ordinary thrill-seeker turned freak of nature after that godforsaken elixir from my old college buddy, Dr. Harlan. What was supposed to be a party boost turned me into this— a guy who thrives on jizz, literally. Without it pumping through my veins, I weaken, fade like a spent cock after a marathon fuck. Harlan’s been busting his ass in that cluttered loft lab of his, mixing potions to reverse it, and now he’s sent me on this suicide trek into the Yucatan jungle for some mythical “luster stones”—glowing chunks said to hold the key to my cure.
Leaves rustled overhead, dripping condensation that tasted faintly metallic on my tongue when a drop hit. Bugs buzzed in my ears, their whine a constant itch I couldn’t scratch. My muscles ached already; it’d been days since my last fix, that quick back-alley blowjob from a desperate trucker. I needed those stones bad. The vault loomed ahead, its moss-covered archway carved with phallic symbols that made my gut twist—wicked carvings, thrusting upward like eternal hard-ons mocking my plight.
I slipped inside, flashlight beam cutting the gloom. The air cooled, carrying a musky scent, earthy and primal, like balls after a heavy workout. Footsteps echoed strangely, my boots scuffing stone worn smooth by… what? Centuries of bare feet in ritual rut? A shiver ran down my spine, not just from the chill. Harlan had warned me: this place was guarded by a cult, fanatics who worshipped some fertility god through orgiastic rites. Sounded like my kinda party if I weren’t half-starved.
Suddenly, the floor gave way—not a pit this time, but swinging vines thick as thighs that wrapped my legs, yanking me off balance. I crashed down, heart pounding, tasting blood where I bit my lip. The vines pulsed, slimy and warm, probing like insistent fingers. Panic surged. I thrashed, but they tightened, sliding higher, brushing my crotch. Fuck, was this place alive? With a roar, I flexed what strength I had left, ripping free. Fibers snapped with wet pops, spraying a sticky sap that burned sweet on my skin. I staggered up, cock twitching traitorously at the friction.
Deeper in, walls narrowed, etched with murals of men in ecstasy, ropes of cum arcing in painted bliss. My breath quickened. Hunger gnawed deeper, a hollow ache in my core. I pressed on, the path twisting like a lover’s hips in heat.
Chapter 2: Labyrinth of Lustful Whispers
Hours blurred in that damn maze. Tunnels branched endlessly, air thickening with incense—spicy, heady, stirring my blood. I paused at a fork, sweat stinging my eyes, listening. Distant chants? Moans? My imagination, probably, but my shaft hardened anyway, pressing against my zipper. “Get it together, Zane,” I muttered, voice hoarse. A wicked thirst clawed inside me, not just for the stones, but for release.
One path led to a chamber where steam rose from a pool, lit by bioluminescent fungi pulsing blue. The water beckoned, rippling invitingly. Stripping down, I slid in—bliss. Heat soaked my bones, easing the tremors of withdrawal. Floating there, naked, I stroked myself lazily, fist gliding over my thickening length. Memories flooded: Harlan’s lab, that first taste of the serum-mixed load from a volunteer. Power had surged then, raw and electric. Now? I needed more.
A splash jerked me alert. From the shadows emerged a figure—a woman, lithe and bronzed, her body draped in sheer veils that hid nothing. Tattoos swirled over her curves, nipples peaked dark against the fabric. “Stranger,” she purred, voice like silk over gravel, “you trespass in the Veil of Vigor. Prove your worth.”
She waded closer, water lapping her thighs. My cock bobbed, aching. Hesitation? Yeah, flickering guilt—this was Harlan’s quest, not a hookup. But her eyes gleamed wickedly, promising sin. “What… worth?” I rasped.
Her hand found me under the water, cool fingers wrapping my heat. “Endure the trial.” She dropped to her knees, mouth engulfing me in one slick dive. Jesus. Tongue swirled, throat milking. I gripped the pool’s edge, groans echoing. She sucked like a demon, hollowing cheeks, nails raking my balls. Pressure built, coiling tight. But I held back, sensing this was a test. When she hummed, vibrations shooting fire up my spine, I pulled free, gasping. “Enough.”
She laughed, low and throaty. “Strong seed. But the true trial awaits.” She vanished into steam, leaving me throbbing, denied. New fire burned in me—her saliva’s trace essence, just enough to sharpen my senses. I dressed, plunged onward, maze walls seeming to pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Another trap: false floor dropping me into a chute slick with oil. I slid, landing sprawled in a alcove lit by crimson torches. There, embedded in altars, glowed the luster stones—red veins pulsing in blue matrices. Jackpot. But as I pried one free, hands cracking stone with budding strength, footsteps thundered. Shadows swarmed—cloaked figures, men and women, eyes feral under hoods. Their blades? Wicked curves, etched with runes, glinting menace.
The Ambush Unfurls
“Blasphemer!” a deep voice bellowed. Their leader, a towering brute with ritual scars crisscrossing his chest, stepped forward. “You steal from the Heart of Thrust!”
I bolted, stones clutched, legs pumping with unnatural speed from that pool tease. They pursued, scythe-like blades whistling. One grazed my arm—hot sting, blood welling coppery. Branches blurred; I dove into a side passage, heart slamming. But the maze betrayed me. A grate slammed down, herding me into a dead end: a vast dome, central dais gleaming like polished obsidian, surrounded by iron rings.
They poured in, twenty strong, robes parting to reveal oiled bodies, cocks rigid or cunts glistening in readiness. The leader smirked. “Bind the thief. He shall feed the Heart.”
Chapter 3: Bound for the Wicked Rites 💋
Ropes bit into my wrists, coarse hemp scraping raw as they dragged me to the dais. Face-down, ass up, legs splayed wide—vulnerable, exposed. The stone chilled my cheek, belly, cock trapped beneath me, leaking pre onto slick surface. Smell hit hard: sweat, arousal, flickering torch smoke biting my nose. Their chants rose, rhythmic, throbbing like a vein pulsing.
“What the fuck is this?” I snarled, twisting futilely. Weakness lingered; no full load yet to unleash my gifts.
The leader loomed, chain necklace heavy with bone talismans clinking. “You profane our sanctum. Penalty: become the vessel. Absorb our essence, or shatter.” His eyes raked my bare ass, exposed when they shredded my pants with a blade’s wicked edge. Grins spread, hands freeing throbbing members—thick, veined, dripping.
First pair advanced. At my face, a squat man with a pierced glans shoved in, salty girth stretching my lips. Behind, a lithe woman—no, wait, another cock, long and curved, prodding my hole. “Open wide, thief,” the mouth-fucker growled, hips snapping. Gagging reflex kicked, but I breathed through, tongue working instinctively. Saliva mixed with his musk, dripping down my chin.
Rear assault: spit-slick thumb breached first, then his hardness rammed home. Burn stretched to fire, then molten pleasure as he bottomed out, balls slapping. They synced, pounding in brutal tandem. Grunts filled the dome, flesh smacking wetly. My body betrayed me, clenching, milking. First spurts hit—hot jets flooding throat, ass. I swallowed greedily, essence igniting sparks in my veins. Strength trickled back.
They withdrew, spent husks stumbling aside. Next duo: a woman this time at my mouth, grinding her shaved mound, juices tangy and copious. I lapped, clit hard under my tongue, her moans high and keening. Behind, a bull-necked brute reamed deep, prostate pegged relentlessly. Cum after cum, I drank it all—male, female nectar blending in my core. Power swelled, muscles twitching against bonds.
By the tenth round, doubt crept in their eyes. I clenched deliberately now, wicked inner grip hastening their climaxes. Men bellowed, women wailed, collapsing in heaps. The leader paced, chain rattling. “More! He hungers still!” But exhaustion painted their faces, limbs trembling.
Twenty cycles blurred into a haze of slick heat, tastes salty-bitter-sweet, scents overwhelming—cum, sweat, pussy dew. My body hummed, supercharged. Ropes snapped like twine when the final pair—twins, hung like stallions—unloaded. I rose, roaring, veins electric.
Chapter 4: Surge of Forbidden Power
The leader backed up, blade raised wickedly, but I was on him, fist cracking his jaw. He crumpled, chain snapping free—I pocketed it, along with the stones vibrating hot against my thigh. “Lead me out,” I growled, hauling him up by the throat. His eyes widened in terror, the others too drained to stir.
He staggered ahead, through tunnels I navigated now by instinct, senses heightened—every drip echoed, every shadow whispered threats. A new chamber halted us: guardian vines, thicker, tentacle-like. They lashed, but I dodged, cock still semi-hard from the rite, fueling my speed. One coiled my leg; I punched through, sap exploding sticky. The leader whimpered.
“Pathetic,” I spat, shoving him onward. Fresh air teased soon after, jungle night alive with chirps and howls. I knocked him cold, vanishing into underbrush, stones safe.
But the power… fuck. It thrummed wild. Back at camp, alone under stars, I jerked furiously, testing. Cum arced high, glowing faintly—luster infused? No, my own output, amplified. I tasted it, loop closing, strength doubling. Guilt flickered—Harlan waited, oblivious. Yet this curse felt like a wicked gift now, raw dominion over desire.
Dawn broke steamy. I trekked out, body humming, mind replaying the orgy: those relentless thrusts, flavors mingling, bonds breaking. A side path tempted—a village rumor’s hot springs brothel. One detour? Essence still coursed, but temptation gnawed.
Village Temptation
There, in a thatched haven, three sisters lounged, curves oiled, smiles predatory. “Hero from the vault?” the eldest cooed, hand tracing my ripped shirt. I nodded, hunger stirring anew—not need, now want. They swarmed, mouths and hands everywhere. One rode my face, nectar flooding; another impaled on my length, walls fluttering; the third rimmed deep, tongue probing. Explosions ripped through us, their cries echoing. I absorbed, power peaking, leaving them sated puddles. Grinning, I pressed on—wicked high fading slow.
Chapter 5: Return to the Alchemist’s Lair
Harlan’s loft squatted in Cancun’s outskirts, fans whirring against humidity, beakers bubbling funky scents. I burst in, clothes tatters, stones glowing in fist. “Got ’em, doc.”
He spun, glasses fogged, eyeing my state—bruises fading fast, swagger new. “Trouble?”
“Handled it.” I tossed the stones. His eyes lit as he snatched them, grinding one already. “Rough cave? Ripped pants suggest… company.”
Laugh escaped me. “Cult got wicked on me. Turned it around.” Details spilled—maze, pool temptress, the rite’s frenzy. Harlan flushed, stirring a vial. “Essence absorption amplified? Christ, Zane, this changes everything.”
We worked late, his elixirs mixing stone dust with my… sample. Testing surges hit: I punched through a steel door, casual. But intimacy brewed. Harlan’s gaze lingered, hand brushing mine. “Volunteered before,” he murmured. “Again?”
Hunger flared—not survival, craving. I yanked him close, lips crashing. Clothes shed in frenzy. His mouth on me first, eager, swallowing deep. Then bent over workbench, I claimed his tightness, thrusts pounding glassware rattling. He gasped, “Fuck, stronger…” Climax hit mutual, me flooding him, absorbing echo through touch? Power crested, wicked bond sealing.
Morning light filtered. Potion bubbled complete. “Cure?” I asked.
“Control,” he grinned. “You’re no victim now.” I downed it, essence stabilizing—power mine to wield, no drain. Jungle vault? Just beginning. More vaults whispered, more rites… willingly.
Chapter 6: Echoes of Eternal Craving 🔥💋
Weeks later, back in the vault—voluntary raid. Harlan at my side, armed with serums. Cult awaited, leader kneeling. “Return… Master?”
I smirked, stripping. “Feast renewed.” Orgy erupted, me center—taking, giving, absorbing torrents. Bodies writhed, slick piles, moans symphony. Women rode waves, men plunged depths. Sensory storm: tastes exploding, scents choking, touches electric, visuals blurring heat, sounds wet slaps crescendoing.
Power infinite now. Stones integrated, curse evolved. Wicked life—thrusts eternal, depths unending. Harlan joined fully, our duo conquering. Jungle swallowed screams of rapture.
And in quiet aftermaths, tenderness: fingers tracing scars, breaths syncing, bonds deeper than flesh. No regrets. Only hunger, sated forever.
