The Oracle Assassin. A weapon for the Federation. 12,234 confirmed kills including close quarters combat, firearms, and vehicles originating from all 13 quadrants.
Ends reign of King Soddoram... With her tits and ass.
The mirror blinks in the corner with an incoming call. One of your fellow Assassins. Her milk white face and inky black eyes appear in the corner of the mirror-screen, with a head full of short black tentacles dangling at her sides like slippery dreadlocks.
"Julisa," She begins, her accent pouring in like warm syrup, "- oh, I didn't realize you were -"
"Nothing you haven't seen Tu'cei," you respond. You hold an odd relationship with your fellow Assassins. Making like you had nothing to hide, but always playing games, holding secrets. As liars go you are one of their greatest, but Tu'cei, she was cunning even for a Yconi. Every answer she is given - true or false, brought her closer to deducing the truth as she pried her little white fingers into your deepest secrets. As you move to your dressing room Tu'cei's icon follows along the walls.
"Amber Eyes informed me you were taking the Katabasa VII assignment, do you care to explain?"
"Not particularly. I'm one of the only Assassin's under the Federation with the skill to get in such a guarded place, and out."
"It will take more than that, if you were offered the assignment surely you know about King Soddoram. And his... taste... in women."
"I haven't had to dress socially for an assignment since the Silvaria incident,"
"Soddoram's Palace isn't a social occassion Julisa. Ladies don't go there willingly. He collects powerful and beautiful women like trophies. Celebrities, singers, activists, enemies. He breaks them. Makes them into slaves for his own pleasure - and his guests."
You sort through outfits on a tablet, and select a small black dress that accentuated your form just enough to draw Soddoram's attention, and not enough to be mistaken for a slave girl by his guests.
"... I hear Kira is one of his."
You stop. You pace to the wall and swipe away Tu'cei's icon. Ending the call.
You've never failed a mission. You aren't afraid of Soddorom. Repulsive, fat, slimy tentacled hands, standing over 10ft tall. You've seen his kind. Not just the Buulerion - of which he was the last. But men like him. Ruling their corners of the galaxy, living in fear of the Federation in fear that one day they will cast more than a shadow over their salacious Empires. Soddoram doesn't intimidate you.
You strap your T7 Blaster Pistol to the legging of your dress. As your sporty Silvarian Speeder descends on civilization - using the word generously. Buildings, factories, and towers, massive in scale, but poor in condition. The lights that made up the districts and slums below were half trash fires you suspected.
The pyres lead the way to the largest structure on the planet, a pyramid like structure. Soddoram's Palace.
An insectoid face appears on your screen. Barking and screeching in it's language which the speeder translated.
"You are approaching the domain of the Soddoram the Great. Identify yourself or you will be destroyed and the contents of your ship will be crystallized into a tile of the Master's guest floor."
Hardcore. You send the identification code, which reads positive.
"Bella Matria. Another Pirate. Here on business or pleasure?"
It took months for the alias to gain any traction on the galacti-net. A few fake stories, and actual incidents attributed to your alter ego Ms. Matria, and you had Soddoram's attention.
"Business, but I assume pleasure will come anyway."
"Oh right, lesbian," The disapproval in the Maraxxian's tone managed to translate all too clear, "You are clear for landing. Wherever you want except the Master's private dock."
---
You see guests of literally every shape and size. Humanoids, tentacled beasts, hairy hulks, cyclopean horrors, slugs, insects exhuming puss and slime. All stood--those who had legs, in line, sweating from the hellish pyres that led the way, all of them eager to behold the Slave King's goddesses of pleasure. The chattering in their alien tongues was drowned by the pulsing music. Even this far from the gate you could feel it. Bodoom, bodoom-m-m-ooom.
Ahead of the line you see two armored Maraxxian guards, one of the beasts points your way. Right at you. Their muscled arms grasp their stun spears. Maybe they'll allow a human female in, to boost business you think, or have you been discovered already? One touch from a Maraxxian stun spear and you would be paralyzed, you know this.
They were getting closer. There was certainly cover in the form of crowds and some of the larger gifts for Soddorom. A crowd you could navigate. It would be a dull mission if you were to simply poison or snipe Soddorom, he deserves far worse. You let yourself entertain the thought.
The guards stopped before you. Red eyes locked on yours, mandibles twitching. You put on a smile ...
---
I don't normally wear something as revealing as this little black number with a plunging neckline, scandalously high slit up to my thigh, and skin tight fit, but when an assassin needs to fit in, you do what you must.
The two Maraxxian guards pointed at me like they suspected I was her. The Oracle Assassin. Probably because I'd decided to do up my blonde tresses as opposed to hide them. Somehow that's the one thing that symbolized my notoriety: my long blonde hair. As they came closer, finally stopping before me, I hid every ounce of guilt hiding inside my soul and gave them a friendly airhead smile.
"Hello! I'm sorry to tell you handsome gentlemen that I'm not single, and my boyfriend wouldn't appreciate me giving out my number to studs like you."
---
The Maraxxians glare at you, their legions of insect eyes shifting toward every inch of you. Gripping their stun-spears. One raised a wrist scanner to you that whirred and gave a positive click.
They nod at you, allowing you to proceed. You thank them as you go on your way. You feel their eyes still following you. One nudged the other, who chirped in amusement as they enjoyed the view. You begrudgingly let it go.
You enter the palace, a massive cavern lit with flaming pyres. It was impossible for you not to survey your surrounding, observe every figure in the room. Likely identities, motives, occupations. but the sight of Soddoram's main chamber repulsed you. You want to suppress your talent for observation to spare yourself the injustice. Inspiring a primal fear. It would be hell, but the sinners here were having the time of their lives. Drug lords, dictators, mercenaries, gangsters, corrupt politicians. The criminal elite of the galaxy devouring the scantily clad goddesses that danced and flirted and performed for their amusement. Some were rented out before you. You watch the blue skinned political activist Garina Galix - voice of the oppressed people of Narn, as she is carted away naked on a leash by a quivering slug, taking his whore to private quarters. Marriane Imperius - actress of the Earth solar system famous for her ice blue eyes and raven black hair, caressing her tits as she gives a Garbite a lap dance. Her fishnets leave nothing to the imagination.
They can all be saved, you think. You pass through the zoo of beats as they defile inspirational women from across the universe, and there you see him.
On his high throne sits the nightmare of every woman in the galaxy: Slave King Soddoram. A massive and gluttonous amphibiod with dull green and orange skin, lying on a dias with a chalice in one hand and in the other a leash with a young petite slave on it's end, Princess Kira Nya of Digia IV. He laughs with his equally repulsive guests, as he tugs on the leash of the of Dig, bringing her to his bulging gelatinous belly as he watches her with eager anticipation. Parting his chubby legs as she brings her head full of creamy brown hair and soft lips between them.
You know there are more Maraxxians all around you. That a deflector shield could stop a sniper shot from nearly any distance. It would have to be up close, with a blaster.
You approach the steps to his level, your heels clicking with every step.
---
It's amazing he can even find pants to fit him, I note as I begin up the steps. To any onlooker, my focus is on approaching the great Slave King Soddoram in hopes of wooing him with my charm and beauty. But in my head, I'm counting the number of guards blocking my exit. Sixteen, half of which surround the dais, the other half guarding the way to the nearest window where I've hidden a Speeder. I can take out twelve with my blaster before I'm forced to find cover.
Taking the last few steps slowly, I gaze upon the king's growing bulge before looking in his eyes and smirking. But before I can approach any closer, one of King Soddoram's personal bodyguards intercepts my path. The steely glare from his red eyes is enough to transmit his question: What are you doing here?
"I see that my Lord is enjoying himself tonight. I thought that perhaps I could ... help."
---
You remembered studying the language, a language of low clicks, chirps, shrieks, but his body language with independently moving eyes and twitching mandibles speaks more than words.
"The Slave King does not take guests! Get out of this level before--!"
"Kxxtk!" You hear a low bellow, clumsily pronouncing the Maraxxian speech, "Can you not see? This female is desperate for my company."
Soddoram spoke, and Captain Kxxtk took a step back. Up close he is more disgusting than you ever imagined. His skin drenched with natural grease that reeked of sewage, bumps and worts covered his body like a disease. Soddoram extends his hand, his rings forged from every solar system shining golden as he offered you the closest cushion to his left side. Kira watches you suspiciously, with her dough brown eyes. She looks so innocent, so petite, you have known her as a child. The royal family of Digia IV was outspoken against Soddoram's rule, and in revenge Soddoram sent his bounty hunter Jizma Opricus to kidnap their beloved daughter. Now here she is, on her knees with her hands cradling the bulge in the pants of her Master.
Your instincts - and nose - tell you to fight, or run, at least squirm. You manage to sit, crossing your legs seductively, giving the pig a good gaze at your cleavage as his eyes devour you like a hot sticky tongue. His breath reeked of sewage and liquor.
"Forgive my Captain," he says, "He does not share my taste in humanoid women. I have offered him many of my own, but he prefers his own kind. I don't see why, is the human form not... perfect."
He takes Kira's leash by the end, bringing the naked slave girl to his protruding belly. He runs his septic tongue over his cracked bottom lip, lustfully dragging it over Kira's bare and youthful form as he casually played with her cute little ass.
"So what brings, a lovely human this far across the galaxy, to my den. Do you not find me ... repulsive?"
---
I stifled a shudder as the Slave King's eyes roamed over my body, analyzing me for flaws and comparing me in his mind to the rest of his veritable harem. Despite the stench seeping from his lungs, I swallowed back my bile and sat down on the cushion, leaning on my elbow.
"So what brings a lovely human this far across the galaxy to my den. Do you not find me ... repulsive?"
I considered his question thoughtfully. I had an entire backstory prepared just for this -- how I myself am a minor slave trader, specializing in humans trained in sexual pleasure and cooking exquisite cuisine. Earth, after all, has a colorful history of slave trading that most history books acknowledge, but profess disgust for. In reality, when given the chance, most humans will attempt to turn other people into cattle, sex objects, domestic servants, no matter what the law or public opinion says. All I need is a small agreement from him to buy a number of them each quarter in order to get my business thriving.
But to be honest, as I crept even closer, donning a pair of bedroom eyes to lower his defenses, I didn't see any point in playing coy for any length of time. He doesn't deserve a quick and painless death. not by a longshot.
"My Lord," I replied. "As much as you make my skin crawl and my stomach want to evacuate its contents every time I look at you," I whispered, my hand slipping under my dress, "that's nothing compared to how repulsive I find you morally."
Before he can blink or even react, I've whipped out my blaster, aimed it at his massive cock and balls, and fired.
---
You were prepared to run. Blast your way through the guards, work the panicking scum that surrounded you to your advantage.
But your blaster made no sound, no motion.
The guards. The scanner. You think. They didn't scan me for weapons, they had disabled it. You heard rumors of such technology, but it seemed like a myth.
Kira hugged her master, crying, as he wags a tentacled hand at you. You run, dodging Kxxtk as he lunges his stun spear toward you. More Maraxxians begin to fly over with jagged wings, their mandibles sprawled apart, letting out a granular shriek.
You tear your dress, allowing your escape. A lowly Golbian pushes a cart filled with boiling contents. You push the little goblin aside and shove the cart. It's greasy contents spill across the marble floor, slowing a few Maraxxians as they slip and burn where their exoskeletons touched the ground. Chirping and shrieking in pain as they fall on all sixes.
Pyres light the way to your exit through the window. It shatters as a foolish Maraxxian throws a spear at you, one you easily dodge. With grace you throw yourself into the night. Your heels ignite blue, prepared to absorb the impact as the ground rushed up to meet you.
Your speeder was hidden inside one of the many gifts to be inspected. A golden model of the Tharnixiux, the first interstellar slave ship. All you would need to do is press your hand to the
model's base, and your imprints would open it.
You could hear the buzz of Maraxxian wings approaching from all directions. You press your hand to the base of the model. Your hand leaving a glowing blue imprint as it recognizes you: Julisa Hawkins.
The golden panel pops, and slides away.
Bzzz--
Empty. You look inside. No speeder, no weapons. Only a note.
Bzzzzzzzz--
Send King Soddoram my regards! - Harkin
As if the note wasn't shocking enough, your body is electrified by the first stun-spear. You don't feel the ground as you fall, a second stun-spear had already struck. You don't feel the third. You briefly see the Maraxxians as they descend on you before your vision blurs ...
---
Damn it, I thought as I ran. Damn it all to hell and back again. Got too cocky. I let it get personal. How could I just screw up like that?
I don't know who Harkin is, but right after I finish my mission to assassinate King Soddoram -- quickly and painlessly to avoid further mistakes like this, I might add -- he will die a slow and agonizing death. Even if I have to go through the depths of hell and escape Soddoram's captivity.
As the stun-spear's volts coursed through my body, I could already plot out the course of my life. No matter how twisted and mangled my body was now, Soddoram had the means and the technology to make it perfectly whole again. I knew of the strange tortures his slaves underwent to achieve the mental conditioning. His PR crew couldn't stifle the stories of hacked off limbs, bugs rattling inside brains, acid baths and repeated brandings that managed to leak out of his Factory. He could break me again and again and I would never die or show ill effects, because scars generally displease the clientele.
Thanks to the position I landed in, I could watch the Maraxxians strike me a second and third time. It seemed to me that they completed their jobs with a mix of satisfaction, relief, and trepidation. No doubt they would be harshly punished for allowing me to slip in under their 'close' watch. King Soddoram's personal guards may enjoy the finest of rewards, but they also suffered greatly for their mistakes. And for them, he had no reason to restore their bodies to their whole, perfect forms.
One thought rang through my mind as my vision went dark: I will complete my mission.
I will complete my mission.
I will complete ...
---
You feel your eyes open, but nothing came in. The world was black. You move your arms, and you hear a jingle and jangle answer. You are chained by your wrists to the ceiling, your legs were bound together. You felt weakened from the stun-spears, but you knew that whatever damage had been done to you had been corrected. Amazingly, you are still dressed.
Harkin? You think. The name sounded vaguely familiar in the Federation chain of command. You answered only to Supreme Admiral Persilius, who had assigned you this mission in secrecy. He was a kindly man who saw your potential in the Federation Academy, while all the other men saw your body. Has the Federation been compromised?
The doors open. The torches light the room bright red, revealing what was half dungeon, half bedroom. Comfortable seats with glass tables with pitchers and bowls of treats against stone walls with chains, collars, and bondage toys.
Three slave girls step inside. Garina, Marrianne, and Kira. Their outfits of wispy fabric and jewels slinking with every dainty step, except Kira who is entirely naked.
"Master wants us to prepare you for him," Garina says breathily.
"Oh yes, you are here to stay," Marrianne adds, a finger to her lips "We must choose get you dressed, immediately."
"But first," Garina says, "We have to get you out of that dress of yours." She winks at you as she approaches.
You start to struggle, ready to kick them as they came for you, but you were too weak from the stun-spears. Their soft hands came down on you, tearing and peeling the skin tight dress off. The scorching pyres began to caress your bare skin. Beads of sweat making you shiver as they traveled down your back and rested on your ass.
The girls giggled and awed at your youthful and slender form. Wrists and legs still bound, they showered you. Applied perfume and subtle make-up as Kira braided your hair back. Garina picked out a slave girl outfit for you.
You may as well have been naked. It was vulgar and left nothing to the imagination. Golden rings strung together with a black jewel at their heart was all that covered your perky breasts, with a thin black thong veiled with see-thru golden fabric that left your bulbous ass entirely bare. The golden collar clicks around your neck. Tight. They connect the leash with a capable chain, it's weight commanding your every move.
"Oh my, yes," Garina says, running her hand between her legs, "You are ready for Master."
"This is is favorite outfit," Marrianne said "It was Kira's before you, but he has a new favorite girl now."
"Yes Master likes the ones who are hardest to turn," Garina says with a sigh, "But we all forget our silly ways in time and welcome him inside of us, as our rightful lord and Master."
Captain Kzzkt and his Maraxxian troop awaited you and the Slave Girls. Prepared to escort you.
You know what awaits you out there. Hordes of the Slave King's lusty followers, all waiting to behold his latest prize. The Oracle Assassin, now the collared slave of Soddoram.
The gates open. You can hear them already...
---
Being paraded naked through a crowd of perverts was humiliating, simply because I now appeared so vulnerable. But what felt even more violating was watching my career unfold on the screens. The Federation promised they burned all of this. This is coming from someone well up the ranks. If they're smart enough, they'll get word of my capture and realize they've got a mole. Probably shouldn't expect the cavalry to come swooping in to my rescue.
I really do feel like crawling out of my own skin every time I see the Slave King. I understand the whole 'being an alien' thing, but ... damn. Even not in their right minds, how do these girls even stand to be touched by those tentacles and protrusions and any part of this slime spewing creature? But I continue the long walk, paraded past the other minor grotesque oddities collected from the various corners of the galaxy. Honestly, I wouldn't feel quite so 'species-ist' if Soddoram didn't insist on collecting so many humanoid and human women. If he felt that humans had the monopoly on beauty, why can't I?
"My lovely slave," he croaked. "It would appear you have deceived me. Now that you are in proper form, it's time we had a formal introduction.."
He yanked hard on my leash, causing me to stumble and land hard on the steps before his feet. No, if my nose was telling me correctly, I landed directly on his feet. With what little dignity I had left, I pushed myself up onto my knees and looked my target in the eye. Towering before me, he had nothing but sadistic lust in his expression. A speckled lip darted out of his mouth, licking his lips in anticipation.
---
His tentacled hand grasped the back of your head, pulling you closer.
"What? Not how you were expecting this night to go?" He laughs, his rasping pulses through you.
Kzzkt aids him in pulling you to his chest. A mountain of flesh coated in mucus and textured with bumps and boils. You grimace as your naked body sinks into his blubbery wet flesh. His natural oils and slime rubbing into your body like a filthy creme. His gelatinous arm squeezes you breathless, trapping your arms at your side, exposing your firm breasts as he stares at them, face mere inches from them. His hot breath blinds you as he opens his mouth, running his tongue over his rotting stalagmites of teeth, and lapping your tits with a drooling legion of taste buds.
"It took more units than you can possibly imagine meeting possible," he said, "That and killing Supreme Admiral Persilius, who stood in the way of his promotion, and the promise I would share my girls."
He knew I was coming, you think.
"Impressed? All of this just to meet the legendary Oracle Assassin," as he laughs, his tongue slithers over his bottom lip. It runs hot and dirty over your face. You can't help but let your disgust show.
With his other arm he takes his chalice, and brings it to your lips.
"The Assassin has had a long day, she must be thirsty,"
Kzzkt grips your mouth with his bone-like digits, contorting your face, as the Slave King brings the hard liquor down on your lips. The smell prepares you for what is to come
As a spy for the Federation (and a graduate of Tiberian University) you were used to hard liquors, even alien liquors that could potentially kill a human. Soddoram's liquor is vile and pulpy. The taste harrowingly strong and dry. Most of it trickles down your chin as you cough and reject it. The black and purple liquid between your bawdy excuse of a bra.
The dizzying effect takes hold of you fast. The world becomes a blur. Either because it combines with whatever they had done to you, or this creature had an absurdly powerful immune system.
You had slipped to his knees again. The world in a spin. You felt tender hands take you by the hair - Kira. Her other hand grasping below your jaw as Garina and Marrianne were undoing the Slave King's pants, his massive girth falls free. Even this sight doesn't sober you fast enough.
It too was covered in mucus and bumps, and it dripped with pre-cum. Drooling. Standing. His tentacled hand probed your soft lips, uncurling over your tongue, before Kira helped fit him inside ...
---
The way my head raged with pain, I almost couldn't comprehend what Kira and the others were doing with me. Moving my head, opening my jaw, getting me into position. This hideous member that tumbled out of his pants, I shuddered at the though of this pustulent organ being put in any orifice of any creature.
Soddoram took hold of my jaw, and with Kira's help, his tentacled hand filled my mouth. His touch alone made my skin burn in pain. Was that the stun-spears from earlier? Or the nasty alien liquor? In either case, the tentacles moved over my tongue, grazed over the back of my throat, then slid straight down.
It was almost like he'd shoved an octopus into my stomach, the way he wriggled inside my throat. My eyes watered for want of oxygen and the pain of having a foreign body invading my esophagus. He grinned cruelly down at me. Was he testing how well I could handle a cock down my throat? His cock?
In any case, I didn't last long before my stomach heaved and sent a wave of digested protein supplement and liquor out from whence it came. Vomit spurted out of my mouth, over my face and body and down his hand. Even if my face wasn't burning in humiliation from this degrading display, it would have been red from the force of vomiting anyway.
---
The girls brought you again to your feet. The Slave King stroked his chin as he gazed on you. Thinking about what he will do to you next. A smile grows across his lips, exposing his rotted ruin of teeth.
"It's time we had our wedding night," he announces.
He stands. The remainder of his robes tumbling off his arms. His layers of moist flesh quivering with every step. The Slave Girls quickly clean you off before sending you to the Maraxxians. As they lift you and carry you off to the bed chamber.
A few Maraxxians take liberties carrying you, undressing you, throwing you on to the bed. Groping your soft curves excessively, mumbling jokes to one another as they sprawled you out over the bed. Too weak and intoxicated to resist.
Your legs are spread wide open, and the open spot between breathed at the edge, where the Master would enter ...
It would have been a romantic atmosphere, curtains around the bed, velvet cushions and pillows, torches, candles, satin sheets. The outfit that accentuated your every feature. The naked sweating swamp monster that stood before the bed breaks all illusion.
His titanic cock is pointing at you, a hush falls over the Slave Girls as Soddoram stumbles over to you in bed, as he pants heavily with excitement - and lack of exercise too you suspect.
He stands between your legs at the end of the bed. His tentacled hands abuse your tits, squeezing them, rubbing them as he licks your toned belly. His lusty foreplay ends as his slippery hands stretch your legs further apart, and you feel the weight of his manhood press against the lips between. Slapping your thighs, leaving strains of pre-cum as it waddles it's way to your pussy.
The head of his member slips inside you. It's natural mucus allowing it to push it's slimy entirety straight to your womb. Stretching your inner walls past their capabilities. Touching deeper and deeper with his burning member as he thrusts inside you. Allowing a guttural moan to escape his lips.
You tense. Your skin trying to push him out, but his cock is too wet, allowing him to slip in and out of you with ease, burying himself to the hilt inside you. It's too late, you're property now.
---
I never thought of myself as tiny until that moment the Slave King stood over me. In that instant of time, I was a little wisp of a thing about to be crushed under Goliath's girth. With my wrists restrained above my head, I could do little more than close my eyes and avert my gaze, grimacing as two tentacled hands squeezed and manhandled my tits. That tongue on my belly, I might have enjoyed it more if the saliva didn't leave a numbing sensation that began to burn slightly after a few moments.
My body pulls hard on my restraints as Soddoram's massive cock head rubs against my pussy lips. But the bonds hold. My breathing hastens in anticipation.
Then he enters. I feel my flesh stretching to accommodate his massive member, far more than is natural. I attempt to suppress the need to scream, but as he works his way in deeper, I feel tearing. And blood. And a singing, burning sensation deep inside me. The more he fucks me, the more the burning grows.
With a final thrust, he buries his whole cock in my pussy. My whole world is lost to pain and a desperate, guttural scream escapes my throat, echoing throughout the bedchamber amid the entire castle.
---
He drops you rag doll. Kira offers Soddoram a drink, and he takes it quickly. The drink spilling onto you as he greedily laps it from it's pitcher. You lie there, sprawled, bruised in the bed soaked with his juices. Used.
"Calm yourself my sweet," he says running a tentacled finger over your face, red with tears. "The night is only beginning, and I am an insatiable Slave King." He laughs while he sips his drink, spitting it on your naked flesh.
His orange eyes inspect your nakedness before making his next choice.
Your ass.
He pries the round cheeks that folded nicely over your legs apart with his tentacled hands, slipping and regaining his grip squeezing the firm cheeks that hung folded over your legs. Slipping his oversized cock between them. Gripping your hips for support as he hammers his wet cock into you from behind. The Slave Girls watching intently as he grabs your braided hair for support, pulling your head back like it's a cat's tail. Once you think all feeling in your lower half is reduced to a burning acknowledgement of his member, you feel him shoot his load into you.
The girls restrain you so that your head hangs over the side of the bed. The Slave King stumbles over, pleased as he slips his cock between your pink lips. You feel they will burst apart from his sheer girth as he shoves it deeper down your throat, making a foul slush slush slush as he slips it into your mouth. His balls dancing and squishing against your nose as his pace quickened. Your lungs burn, your face turns purple, your intense and seductive eyes wide and filling with tears as your worst enemy chokes you with his dick. You are his fuck toy. A fleshy place for the Slave King to put his cock to keep his lust and boredom at bay.
Slush slush slush slushslushslush. His pace quicks.
Slushslushslushslshslshslshslshshshshshsh--
You are drowning in his salty contents as it fills you cheek to cheek. What remained spills in squirts on your face as he unsheathes his member. You cough and choke, swallowing his cum just for the chance to breathe.
The Master has been worn out, he lies back on the bed, as the Slave Girls position you on top of him. He is still hard somehow, and the Slave Girls slip him inside of you, but you barely felt anything more. He had already conquered you in every way. His touch was no less lusty than before, but his thrusts grew lazy as you slip up and down the shaft of his member. Soon he is asleep.
Kira and Garina have to drag you by you heels out of the hall. You only just stare at the floor. Unable to feel your ass, your pussy, or anything. What doesn't feel sore and lacking in sensation, feels painful. Your jaw feels unhinged, your cheeks raw. Kira retrieved your slave outfit for you.
The slave girls shower you. Never noticing your tears as they did. They scrubbed the semen and sweat from you, and dress you back into your skimpy little outfit complete with the leash. The red silhouette of the tears on your face is drowned by the red light of Soddoram's bedroom.
The Maraxxians gesture you to climb into bed. You are left with no choice.
You crawl by his side, he wraps a gellatinous arm around your back. Exhausted, he shuts his eyes.
This is my new life, you think. The whore of Soddoram the Slaver King.
