Troll Bait

(Author's note: this is dedicated to my brother and sister Literotica writers and all the readers who've shared their thoughts on my stories in comments and via email.

Well, maybe not all the commenters...)

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The couple struggled through the tangled forest of oak and hickory, stumbling and slipping in the thin soil that covered the crumbling, naturally terraced slopes of South Illinois limestone. Clusters of locust thorns and wild rose vines tugged at the man's velvet cape, gradually nicking and pulling it to ruin. The woman stopped frequently to shake her petticoats and inspect her bodice; terrified of getting ticks under the cumbersome attire she wouldn't have worn in a million years if it wasn't her husband's thirtieth birthday.

"Jesus Christ, why couldn't we have just done this in the living room?" She huffed, blowing a strand of blond hair from her face. Her eyes were a cold blue; her cheekbones high and severe; her jaw square and prominent. At five foot eleven she towered over her husband by four inches and now looked down upon him like an irritable Viking goddess.

"As I explained before, it's all about the fantasy," he answered with a distinct lack of patience. He could easily imagine the look she was giving him so he didn't bother to turn to face her. Instead he trained his gray eyes into the trees; scratching his sparse mustache and pushing his limp brown bangs back from his sweaty brow.

"Remind me why I love you again," said the woman.

"Because I'm so awesome?"

"No. I'm pretty sure that's not it."

He paused to look around. It was mid-spring and the forest had leafed out a lot in the two weeks since he and Lloyd had scouted out the rendezvous. The landmarks looked all wrong now, when they could be seen at all. It would have made more sense if they had all gone out together, but Gene had insisted they meet there. Now he was regretting his stubbornness and worrying he'd gotten himself and Betty hopelessly lost. If she realized he was now leading them through the woods more or less randomly that would be all the excuse she'd need to cancel everything. Once again he peered desperately into the leaves, seeing nothing but more leaves and tumbled chunks of eroded white stone.

"Maybe you love me because you have a geek fetish." he said; trying to cover up his mounting panic.

"Obviously I must. Fate is cruel sometimes." She said wistfully. "Hey, isn't that Lloyd over there?"

Gene followed her gaze and spotted Lloyd too. He was down a steep wooded slope in a small glade in the opposite direction of where Gene had been looking. "See, I told you I knew where I was going," he said brightly, his mood suddenly levitated with relief.

"What the hell is that on Lloyd's head?" Betty asked.

"That's his costume. Try not to laugh at him; you know sensitive he can get."

Even by the standards of fantasy role playing Lloyd looked pretty stupid. His tunic was a poorly sewn garment of old burlap and his orange fright wig with the pale flesh-toned pointy ears sticking out perpendicular to his head looked like a Halloween abortion against his ebony skin. His habit of breathing with his fat lower lip hanging open did not help the effect at all. He held up a plastic battle axe as he saw Betty and Gene bumbling through the undergrowth toward him.

"Are you sure you're not pushing him into this?" Betty asked Gene, not for the first time. She had long claimed that the main reason Lloyd and Gene had been friends for so long was that Lloyd was so easily manipulated. And if there was one thing Gene loved, it was getting his way.

"Trust me. He's more than eager."

"'oo goes thar? Raaarg," said Lloyd as they stepped into the grassy, sun dappled clearing.

"Hi Lloyd," said Gene.

"Oh my God, you're even a bigger dork than Gene," laughed Betty. "I thought black guys were supposed to be cool."

"We aren't starting yet?" asked Lloyd in confusion. Gene had insisted the whole point of meeting out here rather than coming together was to make the encounter more "believable".

"I'd like a chance to catch my breath," said Gene.

"Hmph. Some king you make," said Betty as she tipped the gold plastic crown forward over her husband's eyes.

"When the hell you guys going to start?" said an oily, overfed young man in homemade armor painted in black enamel. He sat up under the overhanging limestone bluff, perched on a dusty shelf of stone next to a man in wizard robes. Neither Gene nor Betty had seen them through the dense cluster of scrubby buckeyes as they had walked into the clearing.

"Yeah, you've already dropped out of character," sneered the gangly, thirty-something wizard as he squinted through his clear-plastic framed glasses.

"We're just goofing around right now, we haven't really started yet," explained Lloyd.

"Who the hell are they?" said Betty pointing to the two strangers. Her blue eyes flashed with anger. If she had been a Norse goddess lightening might well have leapt from her fingertip.

Lloyd looked suddenly sheepish; far too sheepish for a troll. "Uh, this is Lord Niarb Gib and The Great Blue Wizard, Longstaff. They're my guild..."

"Aw fuck, Lloyd," said Gene in sudden exasperation.

"They said this is guild territory and we couldn't have a non-sanctioned event unless they were allowed to monitor."

"Guild territory? This is a National Forest Lloyd. Your lame-ass fantasy guild doesn't have any actual jurisdiction here."

"I am not letting a bunch of goddamned strangers watch when I… I'm just not letting anyone watch, that's all," growled Betty.

"What!? This is fucking weak," said the wizard.

Gene's panicked mind worked feverishly. The whole plan, his ultimate fantasy, his birthday gift, was about to blow up in his face. How could Lloyd have been so stupid?

Ever since Betty had told him how a previous boyfriend used to tape their lovemaking he had been obsessed with the thought of those tapes. With surprise he realized he had a weird fascination with the idea of Betty having sex with other men. He had told her about his fixation but she insisted the tapes were long gone. He suggested something else, maybe a set up where he could watch her with another man in real time; live; in the flesh. She had been intrigued, but resistant. "Men can't handle that shit," she'd said. But slowly, over the course of a year, he'd worn her down. Finally, a month ago, she revealed she'd be willing to go through with it on the condition that she got to pick the man. And the man she wanted was Gene's best friend Lloyd.

"I've never done it with a black guy before and I'm curious," she had explained.

Gene had been relieved. Lloyd was a perfect subject for Betty's curiosity. He was a big man at six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds with dark walnut brown skin. Inside he was a sweet, harmless, Tolkien obsessed dork from East Saint Louis. Most importantly, Lloyd was a human doormat, every girl he'd ever dated had walked all over him; hell, Gene frequently walked all over him. He wasn't the kind of guy to steal your woman without asking politely. Even so, Gene was a little taken aback by Lloyd's eager, almost ecstatic, acceptance of his offer to share his wife. It was obvious his best friend had entertained fantasies about his wife.

Over the last few weeks Gene and Lloyd made the planning for the event their shared hobby. Together they dreamt up the "Troll Bait" scenario. Gene and Betty would dress as lord and lady, Lloyd as the monster. When they wandered into Lloyd's lair he would attack and best Gene in combat. Gene would be forced to watch "helplessly" as Betty was ravished. After her defilement Gene would slay Lloyd the Troll and rescue the Betty the damsel. Then they'd all go get Mexican food and a few pitchers of margaritas.

When they outlined the plan for Betty she just looked at them expressionlessly and asked, "What are you guys, fucking ten years old?"

But despite her lack of enthusiasm she agreed to go through with it as a birthday present for Gene. Now, at the last moment, Lloyd had deviated from the plan and it looked like he was about to ruin it all.

"Why the fuck did you tell these dweebs our plan?" asked Gene.

"Hey, screw you," one of the dweebs, the knight, protested.

"Yeah, like you should talk, you fuckin' dork," said the wizard.

"I thought our plan was so cool," said Lloyd looking ashamed of himself. "I guess I just couldn't keep my mouth shut."

Gene couldn't argue with that. It was damn cool fantasy. "Well, why the hell did you let them come?"

"I told you, they said it was guild rules. Besides I thought it would, like, add to the fantasy," said Lloyd lamely.

"So you just decided to set up a gangbang without asking?" fumed Betty.

"No, they'll just watch."

"How does that add to the fantasy?" demanded Gene.

"Like the troll captured them just before you showed up and, um… Well, Betty doesn't have to do them too... They just want to watch."

"Christ Lloyd," said Gene. That was it. His birthday fantasy was as good as dead. How could a programmer as talented as Lloyd be such a fucking dumbass? Gene literally stomped the ground in frustration.

"OK," said Betty. "I'll do it." Everyone looked at her in surprise. She'd seemed ready to storm off in a tantrum a few seconds ago. "But I have one condition. Tweedle Dee and Dum over there get tied up. And not tied up with loose slip knots, I mean really tied up. I don't want them trying to join in. I've had enough surprises for today."

Lloyd looked over at his guild-mates and shrugged at them. They looked at each other and shrugged back. They were willing to be restrained. After all, it wouldn't fit the scenario if they weren't.

Gene volunteered to tie up Lloyd's two friends since he had been an Eagle Scout and knew how to tie a decent knot. Using the nylon rope Lloyd had brought with a bag of assorted props, he secured their arms and ankles as Betty and Lloyd talked nervously and shared a half pint bottle of brandy. Gene noticed with discomfort how flustered and giggly his wife was as she quietly spoke to his friend. It finally began to dawn on him that despite his wife's wise-assed attitude she was just as eager to move this along as he was.

"So what're your real names?" asked Gene idly, trying to take his mind off his sudden ill ease with his big plan.

"We prefer to remain anonymous to non-guild folk," said the knight haughtily.

"Call me Longstaff or call me nothing," said the wizard.

Squatting behind them, adjusting the ropes, Gene rolled his eyes. He remembered why he'd dropped out of live role playing after college.

"You're wife's a little chunky isn't she?" said the knight apropos of nothing.

"No she isn't," said Gene, looking over to his wife. True, she wasn't model thin, but she was not fat by any means. The little bit of extra weight she had put on since they'd got married made her boobs bigger; her hips curvier. He liked her that way.

"Well, the way Sir Dolomite told it, she was a rare beauty," said the knight; referring to Lloyd by his role-playing pseudonym.

"Yeah, looks like any old suburban bitch to me," added the wizard.

Gene brought forth his old campaigning sword. It was a yard long shaft of oak with a carved hilt and pommel. The wood of the blade was exposed now; the one time skin of foam-rubber padding having long ago rotted away. Thrusting it between the heads of the bound guildsmen, he quickly knocked it back and forth; bouncing it rapidly from one to the other as they protested in "Fucks", "Shits" and "Ows". As Gene looked up from the freshly cowed strangers he saw that Lloyd and Betty were gazing at him with questioning faces.

"The knaves displeased me," he explained while walking up to his wife and best friend to take the last few swallows of brandy. Returning the cap to the bottle he looked down and noticed that Lloyd was wearing brown dress socks with his leather Birkenstock sandals. "Those socks displease me too. Not very troll-y methinks."

"I don't like having my toes out. I got nail fungus."

"You guys oughta ease up on the sexy talk or I'm going to come right now," said Betty.

"Give me the socks Lloyd. It's my birthday, I call the shots."

Looking embarrassed, Lloyd peeled off his socks and revealed a pair of horrendously grotesque, yellow and black nailed feet that could have passed for those of a genuine troll. He handed the moist polyester-blend balls of fabric to Gene who walked back towards the rock ledge where the knight and wizard sat bound tightly.

Gene, his face close to the knight's, rasped, "This'll teach you to insult my wife, you son of a bitch." And he jammed one of the socks into the wizard's mouth.

"Oh God, n…" blurted the wizard as the second sock was pushed into his mouth.

Gene turned back to Lloyd and Betty with a look of regal satisfaction beaming across his face. Lloyd looked horrified. Betty was doubled over in laughter.

"Now I remember why I love you, my heroic little nerd," she said, looking at him through eyes moist with amusement.

As Betty's laughter subsided it was if a curtain lifted. It occurred to them all at once that it was time for the fantasy to start. But the one thing that none of them had discussed was exactly how to start. They shuffled awkwardly in the dirt for a few seconds before Betty saved them by dropping suddenly into character.

"M'lord! Tis a foul troll lurks just beyond thine elbow!" she gasped. Ironically she did the best accent of any of them.

"Aside maiden," King Gene shouted and leapt in between Dame Betty and Lloyd the Troll. He brought his sword up at the ready as Lloyd brandished his battle axe.

"Looks like some lovely pickin's fer a 'onry troll such as I," said Lloyd; adding, "Raawl!" as he swung his axe.

"We'll cook our supper over your burning hide, foul beast," said Gene, parrying another blow and swiping his sword past Lloyds face.

"Not bloody likely," answered Lloyd the Troll as he swung again. King Gene dodged aside and thrust his sword into the troll's ribs.

"Hey, that's a death blow. Aren't you supposed to let me win? So I can… you know." said Lloyd nodding at Betty.

"You're a troll, remember? You regenerate. I'd have to lop pieces off of you and burn them before I caused permanent damage. Christ Lloyd, I just mentioned needing to burn your body."

Betty stood with her arms crossed; shaking her head.

"Oh yeah. Sorry, I'm actually really nervous," said Lloyd with a shrug.

Betty took the initiative again; jumping between them. "No wretched beast. Spare my king. Defile me if you must as the price for our simple kingdom's continued happiness."

The troll looped an arm around Lady Betty's waist and swung his axe so the flat of the blade bounced off King Gene's head.

"Oh fie! Inglorious defeat!" cried the king as he dropped to the forest floor.

"I'm going to rape you, pretty maiden," cackled the troll as he dropped his axe and began pawing at the weakly struggling damsel's bodice.

"I am beyond caring now that you've struck down my beloved King," she said, throwing a hand across her brow.

The troll slobbered and gibbered as his large fingers tangled hopelessly with the lacing of the bodice. The maiden's ample bosom quivered like jelly as his desperate fingers picked at the knot.

"Shit," said Lloyd. "Can you help?"

"Just rip it," said Betty.

"You sure? It's a nice costume."

"I'm not planning on making a hobby out of this bullshit," she said. "Rip the fuck out of it."

Gene pulled himself up to sit leaning against the tree to watch. Lloyd ripped the front of Betty's bodice open and her generous breasts spilled out into the dappled light of their forest battleground. He dropped his face down into her cleavage and began lapping and sucking her soft, white flesh and pink, hardening nipples. She hummed in delight as she reached down plucked the orange wig off Lloyd's head to toss it out into the forest. He looked up at her and brought his lips up to her face. Their mouths met in a desperate, deep soul kiss as his hands dropped down to cradle her ass. He pulled her close. Her chest pressed into his burlap tunic.

Gene reflected with an uncomfortable sinking feeling that he wasn't a king watching a troll rape a maiden: he was a short nerd watching his tall, African-American, best friend make love to his tall Nordic wife. And she was obviously enjoying it.

At Betty's urging Lloyd pulled off his rough burlap clothes, leaving him in his navy blue boxer shorts. Lloyd pulled down on the shoulders of Betty's dress; rending the fabric further; stripping her to the waist. They re-entered their embrace as their bare chests rubbed together in the warm, mid spring air. Betty's nipples grew harder and poked at Lloyd's face as he descended again to play amongst her lovely, yielding mounds.

Gene watched. He felt ill, but he felt arousal too. Watching another man lustfully touch his wife and watching her respond eagerly awaked strange, complex feelings; feelings he didn't understand and that he was reluctant to give himself over to. But his cock understood all too well as it inflated in his briefs, growing rigid and uncomfortable as he watched his hungry eyed wife stop to pull off her dress.

Gene looked away, over at the captive observers squirming on the limestone shelf. They were struggling and pushing at their foul gags with their tongues in an attempt to work them from their mouths. He didn't want to interrupt the scene by getting up to check the gags, so he put them out of his mind; hoping the socks would hold.

Gene looked back, watching Betty finally free herself from her cumbersome dress and toss it off into the weeds. Lloyd got behind her and cupped her pale breasts in his large dark hands. She leant back into him; her arms looped back around Lloyd's neck as she let his hands roam over her body. Stretched out, back arched, her belly was taut as his fingers tickled their way down over the ridge of her lowest ribs and along her abdomen to slip into the elastic of her black panties. She shuddered in pleasure as his fingers wove their way into the folds of her pussy.

"Oh God Lloyd, please fuck me," she said.

Lloyd raised his head and looked a question at Gene. Gene didn't respond. He couldn't. He'd asked for this, hell, he'd begged for it, and now it was happening. He realized that he didn't really know how he felt about this now that it was too late to stop it.

Lloyd looked away from Gene and back to Betty's panting body. With a push her panties dropped down her smooth legs to her ankles revealing her golden bush. With a flick of her leg she sent the panties sailing over to land perfectly on Gene's lap. He looked up at her with wide eyes and she laughed merrily.

"Anything for my kingdom," she said with a wink.

Gene gulped as he watched Lloyd pull his cock from his boxers. He had always assumed the stories about the huge dicks of black men were just racist paranoia, and maybe they were, but, damn, Lloyd was stereotypically endowed with nearly nine inches of black-purple shaft. Gene could not look away as Betty, naked and radiant, bent over with her hands against the rough bark of an old sycamore tree. She opened her legs and thrust her ass up and out, inviting Lloyd in. Lloyd did not wait. Gratefully he fed his long rod into her. Betty gasped and sighed as it parted her honeyed gates to drive into her deeper and deeper as Lloyd slowly tested her secret depths.

"Oh God," gurgled Betty as Lloyd filled her fully, his tightly coiled pubes pushing up against the tender pink-white flesh of her ass. With leisurely thrusts he began fucking her slow; sliding his cock in and out along its full length; basking in each inch of friction. She squirmed and panted as he began to speed up. His thrusts became more authoritative as he ran into her with rough slaps. Her nails dug into the bark of the tree as he increased the tempo even further; impaling her with punishing ferocity as she began barking and grunting, pushing back to meet the blows. Soon she grew tense, every muscle in her body growing tight under her sweat glazed skin as she gave in to the throws of a wailing orgasm.