Issue #5 – Unworthy

It didn’t matter that Baldur wasn’t paying attention to her… that was his place. Dyke lay between his legs anyway, sucking on his cock and being sure to get at least some of it into her throat on each bob. The entire time, she kept her eyes locked on his face, unblinking… alert for any sign that he was unhappy, or wanted her to do anything else. Keeping her eyes on him as she took him to the base of his cock was difficult… but she’d had a lot of practice over the last year.

Dyke had stopped even trying to count the days months and months ago… when her parents had died. The only reason she had any idea how long had passed now was that they had thrown a party for her to mark the one year anniversary. It had been one hell of an event… there had been movies, and games, and an open bar, and even a piñata. Of course she had been the games… and the piñata. They had hung her up from the ceiling and beaten her with canes until she had been coughing up blood, measuring points by how much they could make her spit up between Doc healing her. Mammoth had won after he’d broken four different canes on her. They had tied her to one of the pillars and seen who could get the most darts into her tits… Echo, of course. They had made her bob for dildos in a pool, fucking her ass while she drowned, and the winner whoever let her get the least plastic cocks out of the pool. Baldur. None of the drinks had been for her – they loved reminding her that she wasn’t old enough to drink yet – but most of it had ended up in her stomach anyway by the end of the night, pissed right into her. Compared to the games and the piss, the videos of her performing all kind of sex acts back from when she’d put up a fight almost weren’t so bad… if they didn’t make her remember.

Dyke knew there was a time she hadn’t been called that. That she hadn’t always been a fucktoy. That she had once had people who showed they cared about her with something other than violence and rape… but she tried not to think about it. Remembering was bad. Remembering hurt. That time was gone, and it was never coming back… and only pain lay in that direction. She’d become Dyke, the perfect sex toy, in order to survive… and it hurt too much to think about what she’d been before.

That party hadn’t been today. It hadn’t been yesterday, either. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure how long ago it had been. At least five rapes ago… further than that, her memories got a bit hazy. It was better not to remember that, either. A year and more a dyke fucktoy… that was what her memories contained. That was where her thoughts went if she let them. Don’t think… just suck.

Her master’s cock was growing to its full hardness again. That meant it would be time soon. She paid even closer attention to Baldur’s face… she would suffer if she missed her cue.

In the last year, she wasn’t the only girl they had brought here less-than-willingly. Dyke didn’t know if the pretty blonde, or the redhead, or the other redhead had been Ants like her, or if they had just caught the wrong Dawnbringer’s eye… she never had had a chance to trade a single word with any of them, although they had made her clean the cum out of more than one of them before. After all, as they loved reminding her, she used to be a dyke. They were gone now, it seemed. Maybe they had died. Maybe they had just sold them off somewhere. No one told a whore like her anything… for her, it didn’t matter what had happened to them, save that when they were gone, she was the focus of attention. She knew she shouldn’t, but she always looked forward to the Dawnbringers finding a new girl. It meant that Echo would be distracted from finding ways to make her life worse for a little while.

A flicked crossed Baldur’s face… a bit of pleasure. Dyke sucked him extra deep, completely burying him down her throat before slowly, slowly pulling off… and then crawling until she was on top of him. Her cunt, even after Doc kept making it tighter, took his cock without issue now… it was a well trained hole. It really wasn’t that hard to make his cock fit… she just needed to keep pushing and not think about how much it hurt. After all, if she didn’t please him, this was nothing compared to what he would do to her.

The cum already in her pussy made it easier, at least… this would be the fourth load she had milked out of her Master tonight. Balancing herself up on her knees while the distracted superhero played with his phone, Dyke sank down until she could grind herself down to get every last inch of his painfully huge cock inside her, then she started to bounce her hips up and down atop him. Not too fast… that would get her punished for trying to get it over with… and not too slow… that would get her punished for being lazy. There was a perfect speed, where the only punishment would be the feeling of his hated cock inside her. Over and over, she lifted herself up on her knees until only the head of his shaft was left in her tight quim… then let her warm cunt swallow his entire dick again. It was a hard task, but one she performed without any eagerness or distaste… it was no more or less loathsome than the rest of what Dyke suffered here. She had hours and hours and hours of experience pleasing Baldur like this… even when there were other girls here, he usually found an excuse to fuck her.

Right now, she was the only fucktoy in the tower… it meant that she was back to being Echo’s project. The blonde woman seemed to take her only pleasure in making Dyke suffer… it had been her that gave her the name, after all. Not a single day passed when Echo didn’t find something to do to her that took away one more tiny shred of comfort that she could steal from her eternal servitude… Once, Dyke would have considered her captors giving her a blanket to sleep with on the rare nights they let her sleep at all an almost unbelievable kindness… but when Echo had been the one to give her one, she had wept, certain the kindness was poisoned. Sure enough, the blanket was one of Doc’s toys that she’d had him whip up… a heated blanket that wrapped tightly around her in the middle of the summer, making her spend all night in fever sweats as she lost what little liquid they let her drink. The blonde had been more than happy to bring Dyke back to sensibility by pissing in a glass and making her drink the hot urine before she would unwrap her. Every single day, there was another one, like the woman really wanted to find every last shred of comfort and rip it away. Like she took it as a challenge to somehow show Dyke that no matter how low she thought she had sunk, there was always another depth further down.

Despite Dyke’s experience in riding cock, she was anything but relaxed. She looked at Baldur just as intently as she had while sucking him back to full hardness, whole body stiff with anxiety as she stared at her master with a fake smile… as alert as she could be for any sign that he was displeased, or wanted her to do anything else… or that he was getting close to cumming.

Take today, for example.

One of the tiny kindnesses of spending the night with Baldur was that he would take off her collar. It had been an eternity since the Ant had been allowed to use her power for anything but pleasing one of her rapists, but they were still careful about it. Baldur, alone among them, was invulnerable… he didn’t fear her power at all. He probably took off the collar to make her feel even more powerful as he took her, let her know that she had the abilities she had once prided herself on, and that she was no less his fucktoy for having them. She didn’t care. When the animite was off her, it was like she could see… like being in a dark room when someone turned on a light. It almost made it worth spending the night milking the cum out of the man she had once idolized.

But Echo had taken that away now, too.

The beautiful blonde heroine had shown up today with a small black box… with two new piercings inside. Rings made of the the words “Dyke” and “Whore.” She had made Dyke thank her for the generous gift before putting them in, sealing them closed with a lighter. It had seemed like a small humiliation at the time. Barely a note compared to the oceans of degradation and pain that Dyke swam in every day. It wasn’t until Baldur had taken her to his room earlier and taken off her collar that she had realized the truth… that the piercings were made of animite. That she would never again know the feeling of her power… that she would be blind for the rest of her life. Echo had just casually stabbed a cigarette into one of her eyes, and she didn’t even know if her mistress understood what she had done.

Probably. Mistress knew everything.

Baldur scowled. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Dyke started to speed up her bouncing in the hope that it would please him… that it might forestall his wrath a few minutes longer. That was what her life had been reduced to… trying to avoid pain for just a little while longer, to stall it just a bit. Sometimes, she managed to keep him from torturing her with his cock for a few hours. She never managed a whole night.

Not fast enough. Baldur reached up and shoved her off of him, and Dyke fell to the bed already weeping. She knew what was coming. “Useless whore,” he growled, tossing his phone to the side as he rose and walked slowly around her. Dyke lifted her ass in the air as she bent over, hoping the tiny submission might make him more merciful. She already knew it wouldn’t work. She did it anyway.

“Your favorite treat, Dyke,” Baldur roared. “Getting fucked up your ass. Isn’t it your favorite?”

Dyke looked as pathetic as she felt as she craned her head back at him, her dark hair wild about her face, sticking to her lips… the color in her hair had long since grown out, and no one had bothered to replace it. Her face was bruised, beautifully battered by fucking her own face onto Baldur, his mismatched eyes dead and lifeless as she looked over her whip-marked shoulder at her master. “Yes, master…” she whispered. “Dyke loves your cock in her ass.” She couldn’t quite keep a trace of fear from touching her voice, the last bit of humanity she had left. Her lower lip quivered as she spoke. Her whole body shivered as he pressed against her.

Baldur grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her face down into the bed. Dyke stared off into space, trying to think about anything else other than what he was about to do her body. She looked at the closed door, the moonless night, the glowing numbers on the clock marking it as 2:38 in the morning… nothing took her attention from the feeling her ass and swollen cunt exposed and facing Baldur, knowing she could do nothing but wait for what he was going to do to her.

“Stop telling me to fuck your ass, Dyke, and I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Baldur growled as he settled on the bed, and she felt the too-thick head of his dick brush against her ravaged cunt. It was so impossibly sore after hours of rape, but still she writhed against him, hoping to inspire him to fuck her pussy instead.

Dyke whimpered as he lifted his dick up and away from her cunt, positioning it at the too-tiny entrance to her rear. Every. Single. Time. Hurt like the first time. She forced her mouth to work. “Fu… fu… fuck me… fu… fuck Dyke. Fuck Dyke in her ass.  Assfuck Dyke. Dyke needs it… needs it in the… the… ass. Ass- Aaaiiii-” She buried her head in the sheets and gave a muffled scream as he began pushing into her relentlessly, slapping her ass in rhythm to Dyke’s whimpers and profanities. It took a moment to make her yield… even after more than a year of having her rear raped, the constant healing made it harder than ever to let him in, even when she knew it would hurt less if her body would stop resisting.

Dyke blubbered into the sheets as Baldur’s impossibly thick, cruel cock slid into her ass again. Doc had been with her just earlier today, so her ass was tighter than any virgin’s, and every single nerve on her body seemed to to be alive, pain radiating from his cock out to every inch of her body as he leaned in, his meat sliding into her inch by inch as Dyke’s face contorting into a beautiful mask of agony. Deeper and deeper and deeper…

Then his balls slapped against her raw cunt with a tiny spark of pain compared to the anguish filling her bowels, and she knew that he was all the way in. He held Dyke there, completely impaled on his cock, for a minute, just enjoying the look and feel of her entire body shaking and quivering in pain with him buried in the balls to her ass while helpless moans and cries spilling from her bruised, chaffed lips.

Then Baldur slapped her ass like a blow from a baseball bat. “Tell me to fuck you, bitch.”

“Ahhh… hurts… please… don’t… don’t…” she whimpered pathetically, unable to hurt helpself. “Ahhhh… ahhh… fu… fu… fuck… oh god… fuck da… da… Dyke’s… oh god nono, fuck Dyke’s ass oh god… please please cum, please fuck Dyke’s ass.”

“Keep it up Dyke,” Baldur yelled at her as he dragging his cock from the depths of her ass. Her sphincter clung to it, like the embrace of a lover, like it didn’t want him to leave… gripping her rapists cock like a vise. Dyke couldn’t have disagreed more… but suffering was her lot in life.

“Slut,” Baldur growled as he shoved his cock back into her excruciatingly tight hole. A normal man would have been forced to go slow through the sheer friction of her ass sheath, but not Baldur… Baldur was invulnerable, stoppable, undeniable. He could take her however he wanted, and fuck her as hard as he possibly wanted to, and she could do nothing but shiver and sob and scream in pain beneath him. In and out he shoved his cock, assfucking Dyke… practically driving his cock straight through her body and into the bed with how irresistible the force of his thrusts were. Baldur fucked her as brutally as ever, yanking his cock out of her bowels like he wanted to rip them from her body before he slammed back into her, using her like a sobbing piece of meat.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Baldur growled as he grabbed his bitch by the hair and yanked her body up against his, thrusting up into her abused ass mercilessly… each thrust practically lifting her off her knees as inarticulate grunts and sobs and cries jabbering from her drooling mouth. He slapped her across the face, each blow landing like a punch. “Keep it up, whore!”

“Oh god,” Dyke forced out, closed her eyes. “..fuck me master… fu… fuck me like… like the cock hungry dyke I am.” Tears slipped down her face as she spoke, some tiny part of her pride and dignity that she hadn’t been able to kill yet, buried deep down beneath the skin, weeping as she spoke for her. “I’m a whore… just a dirty whore for you, Master.  Ra… rape me, rape me, rape me,” she grunted in time to three especially vicious thrusts. “Hu… hu… hurt ma… me… teach me a lesson… oh god, I’m a slut…”

Baldur let go of her hair and reached around and grabbed one of her bouncing, taut-skinned tits, squeezing it from below as he slammed into her. Dyke shuddered, a keening, inhuman wail escaping her throat as he raped her ass… but she never stopped talking. “Don’t stop, Master. Don’t stop fucking your slutty dyke’s asshole.  Don’t stop raping me, don’t stop using me as your fuck hole, don’t stop hurting your fuck hole.”

Her encouragement was working, she could tell… Baldur was raping her harder with each passing second, grunting like a monstrous animal as he used her body like a sheath built to milk his cock as he pumped and pumped and stiffened and exploded inside of her, spewing searing cum deep into her bowels as he groaned in pleasure. It seemed like he would never stop, pumping and pumping and pumping shot after shot into her tight, sucking asshole while she keened and wailed and shook. His orgasm felt like it was going to stretch out forever, cock pumping and throbbing and spitting while Dyke bucked and writhed and twisted in his grasp.

Then Baldur pushed her forward and off his cock.

Dyke fell on her face on the bed, and every single fiber of her being longed to lay there, weeping, unmoving… to curl into a ball and hope she wouldn’t be noticed further. Instead, she pushed herself up to hands and knees, turned around, and pushed her face towards his dick. The obscene thing was even more horrible than usual, covered with cum and dark, filthy smears and bright red blood.

She didn’t need to be told. She opened her mouth and swallowed it whole without hesitation… her soft, warm, wet mouth cleaning her blood and shit off of his cock and balls. That tool was going to be back in her soon, and she needed to do a thorough job of cleaning her ass off of it first… she remembered the five days they had let her be ravaged by a blood infection before having Doc cure it, when she hadn’t done a good enough of a job. They hadn’t stopped raping her during that whole time that she was pleading for death, either. It was a familiar taste… both her ass, and the dick beneath it. She’d spent many nights with it between her lips, sucking feverishly while Baldur slept, watched by one of Savra’s golems to ensure she didn’t try to escape. Baldur was the one who could let her do such a thing without any fear… trying to bite him was pointless, and everyone knew it. In truth, any of them could make her spend a sleepless night servicing them these days… she didn’t think she had it in her to even try again.

Mistress would probably stop her, anyway.

Before long, she stopped tasting anything other than the saltiness of his cock, and a tiny part of her screamed in horror that she really had sucked him clean, that there was none of that filth left to taste only because it had all vanished down into her throat. The rest of her was screaming in horror because she felt him growing hard in her mouth again.

“On your back,” Baldur ordered.

Dyke pulled herself off of him and scrambled to lay down on the bed with her crotch towards him, spreading her legs invitingly. “Please fuck my dyke cunt,” she whimpered with no real conviction.

Baldur loomed over her like a demon. “You know what, slut? I think I will.” He settled his weight down on her, crushing the far smaller girl down on the bed as he took his cock in his hand and pressed it against her sore slit. Dyke moaned as he slid into a little bit more gently than usual – which mean it only felt like she was being fucked by sandpaper instead of by a chainsaw.

“Please fa… fuck your toy,” she choked out. “This Ant dyke has only one use… I’m only still ah… alive because your cock gets hard…” Please no, please don’t, not this time, just this once…

“Kiss me,” he growled.

Tears slid down her cheeks, but she did it. Drawing her body up to press herself even more firmly against Baldur’s chest like a sheet of rock, her breasts squishing nearly flat and her new piercing pinching her nipples as she found his mouth and attacked it with her lips, Dyke forced herself to open her mouth and kiss him as passionately as she ever had… Elle? Emma? Erin? She knew she had had a girlfriend… knew that she had loved her… now even an attempt to remember her name was too painful, tied to too many memories of being a human being… Dyke had to shove the thought out of her mind as she passionately pretended to Love her master.

And the entire time, he raped her. Gently, for him. More gently than he ever had. Part of her thought that maybe he felt the same… maybe he was coming to love her too. Love her holes and her tits and her whimpers… she didn’t really love him, did she? Dyke wasn’t sure anymore. He owned her. That was as close to love as she got.

Wait.

Mercy from Master was a rare thing. A thing to be treasured. One to show him she appreciated… and maybe he would show it more often. A small part of her was stunned that she was so jaded she could judge one kind of rape as more merciful than another… but she rarely got fucked this gently. Especially not by Baldur.

Wait. This isn’t right.

Dyke shoved the thoughts down as she kissed her master. That voice wasn’t her. That was Donna. That unhappy, miserable girl was dead. She had died with her hopes… with the people who had loved her. The only love Dyke knew was for her holes. Best to let her rest. She only ever made things worse.

Something is different.

Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!

He’s never this gentle.

Why wouldn’t she just go away? Why wouldn’t she stop… why couldn’t she just give up? Why couldn’t she just stop remembering that there had ever been anything but this?

Dyke closed her eyes and lets the tears fall as memories came back with the thoughts.

He’s grunting with effort into my mouth, fucking me as hard as he can.

Why couldn’t she just die already?

I can feel him sweating against my body. He never sweats.

A thrust rocked them together, grinding their bodies as one. Her nipples pinched painfully as they rolled against her fresh piercings, against the…

Animite.

Donna opened her eyes.

If she paused to think about it, she wouldn’t do it. It was insane. Every single instinct that had been pushed into her over a year as a jizzrag told her to not to make him angry… the bit of her that had longed to bite the cocks in her mouth, the part of her that wanted to resist, had died long ago… or so she had thought. She couldn’t think about it. She would have one chance. Only one.

She wrapped Baldur in an embrace. Kissing him harder, feeling his disgusting cock sawing away inside her ruined body, Donna wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him further into her as she embraced him with her arms, pulling them even closer to together.

He always took off her collar when he raped her.

She broke off the kiss, gasping in a single breath.

“Now you’re learning, Dyke,” he grunted. Was he breathing heavier than usual?

She opened her mouth in a gasp, her face a twisted mask of agony she knew he would find enticing.

He didn’t know about the piercings yet.

She took another breath.

One chance.

Donna kissed her way up his collar bone to his shoulder, across the flesh to his neck.

One.

And Donna Saito, moving with strength and viciousness that she had thought fucked out of her a long, long time ago, closed her teeth on the side of his neck over the carotid artery and bit with every ounce of strength in her body.

And the invincible Baldur’s skin parted just like any other man’s.

Blood flooded into Donna’s mouth, over her face, down her throat. She gagged and choked… but forced herself to bite again, tightening her grip on his body with arms and legs both, holding them together in the most intimate kind of embrace.

Shocked, Baldur rested unmoving atop her for a long moment. Then he screamed and started beating at her. His fists smashed into the sides of her body over and over again, and Donna felt at least one rib crack… but they were the blows of a man. Not the invincible fists of a god. She held on tighter. The animite… the piercings in her nipples… she needed to keep them against his skin. If he got away from her, she was a corpse, or she would wish that she was. He battered at her viciously. She held on tighter.

Eventually, both of his hands found her neck and began to squeeze. If he’d had started like that, he probably would have crushed her windpipe, or at the very least choked her out… but his hands were weak now. Almost pathetically weak. Donna might have been able to force them off of her with her own hands.

She didn’t. She held her breath, black spots gathering in her vision, pain blooming across her body, and held onto her embrace for dear life as he bled and bled and bled onto her.

And then his hands slipped off of her neck and down to his sides. A moment later, he stopped moving entirely.

Dead.

Donna didn’t let go. She held on tighter.

She wasn’t sure how long she clutched to him… terrified that it was a trick, that the moment she let go he would push her off of him and heal his wounds, that he would become invincible again. Finally, though, she realized that there wasn’t any more blood seeping from his neck. That his eyes were open and unseeing. That the greatest superhero in the history of the world was dead. Sometime during the struggle, the two had rolled off of the bed and onto the floor. Blood covered Donna. She wanted to wipe her face. She wanted to lift herself off of his cock still inside her. She wanted to spit the metallic taste of blood from her mouth.

Instead, she leaned to the side just in time to be violently sick all over the floor.

Baldur, the superhero idolized by billions, savior of the world, and depraved rapist, was dead… and she had killed him.

She had killed someone.

Donna threw up again. They hadn’t let her have anything but cum and piss to eat or drink two two days. There was nothing in her stomach for her to throw up. She did it anyway, her stomach rebelling over and over again until she began desperately swiping at the blood that covered her face, trying to get it off of her. She only made a further mess.

At last, she was laying on her side, staring into Baldur’s empty eyes and just feeling numb. Part of her longed for the oblivion she had sank into for most of a year… anything but needing to think, to feel. She didn’t know what to do… it had been so long since she had made a decision for herself. She kept expecting any second now, someone would come into the room… Thermal or Lancer, or one of Savra’s golems would come and investigate the noise. Someone would come and punish her… but long minutes passed as glowing numbers on the clock continued to count up, and still no one came. She had killed someone…

Rot in hell, you bastard. Echo hadn’t stopped her. She hadn’t seen this coming. The evil bitch didn’t know everything after all. She could rot in hell, too.

Donna rose unsteadily to her feet, forcing herself to step over Baldur’s body. He had a knife in his desk… she had seen it before. He had used it on her before… no, don’t think about that. Focus on the knife. This was going to be hard enough. It really was a comically large blade for her hands once she flipped it open, but it would have to do. She tried to think about anything but how much this was going to hurt. Then she gripped onto the Animite ring in her right nipple, slid the knife into the relatively thin ring, and began to saw.

It was agonizing. Every single pull twisted her nipple no matter how hard she tried to hold the ring, stretching and pulling at her raw, sensitive flesh… She needed to bite down on one of the pillows to keep herself from screaming… but at last, the ring parted. One down, one to go. The second was even worse, now that she knew what to expect… but that thin ring of metal was all that stood between her and freedom. She would have cut off her own hand if that was what it took.

Then the ring parted, and she all but ripped it out of her nipple, throwing it across the room… and she could SEE again. A thousand portal locations shone in her mind like beacons… places she could fit and places she couldn’t, safe places and dangerous places. She could feel how long a portal would have to be to fit beneath the desk, and how long of a jump it would be to get to the hall from where she stood. She didn’t need to make a portal for someone’s sick games, to please her captors. She could stretch her muscles. It was like a blindfold had been stripped off her. It felt like she could do anything.

For just a second, Donna forgot everything that had been done to her. She forgot that she had been betrayed by her childhood heroes, that she had been raped more times than she could count, that the most beloved man in the world lay dead at her feet and that she could taste his blood in her mouth. That her parents were dead because of her obsession with the Dawnbringers. That she was still in their lair and in mortal danger… Donna felt ALIVE.

Then reality came crashing back down on her and she started to cry. Not now… not now. There would be time to fall apart later. She needed to leave… now.

The only clothing she owned now was some lingerie and bondage gear, neither of which she would so much as consider putting on. There wasn’t anything else to wear for her… so she started putting on some of Baldur’s clothing. It fit her like a tent, but she found a black sweat shirt and pants that she could belt tight enough around her that they didn’t look like she was wearing a sail. Shoes were a lost cause, but she didn’t need them. She picked up the knife and Baldur’s phone and wallet, pausing for a second to unlock it by pointing it at his bloodstained face. Then, after a second of thought, she picked up the rings and collar, wrapped them up in one of his socks, and slipped into the hall as silently as she could.

She had crept through this halls once before… following Proteus into a trap. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. The clock said it was after four in the morning. Still, she opened a small portal in the main room, peeking through it and finding no one. With that done, she widened the portal and stepped through it, pressing the button for the elevator and watching with suspicious eyes as it opened immediately. Feeling like she was walking into a cage, Donna stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby.

Floor after floor went by as she sank deeper and deeper into the building. With each one that passed she expected the doors to open and the Dawnbringers to be waiting for her… for Baldur to be waiting for her, laughing at how she thought she had managed to get away, how she thought an Ant could kill the invincible man. This time, she wouldn’t be captured. She could feel the outside of the building, without portal range. If they attacked her again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake a second time – she would risk the fall. Anything other than letting them take her again.

But then the door opened on an empty lobby. A portly, normal looking man dozing behind a security desk. An clear atrium with potted plants. Nothing else. Donna looked both ways, but saw no one. She opened a portal to the street outside with cars driving by thick even at this hour, and tasted the dirty, greasy, smelly city air on her nose for the first time in more than a year. The scent of trash and exhaust and stagnant water overwhelmed her… and it was wonderful.

Donna ran off into the night.

One thought on “Gathering Dusk Issue #5 – Unworthy

  1. Prefer our dear girl to be called Donna than Dyke. Glad she managed to run (for now?) and killed(?) Baldur, although knowing how things unfold there this isn’t the last time she ends up being fucked or beaten (Certainly wouldn’t want that).
    Using her as a piñata was very creative though, all the stuff consisting of shaming, hanging, chaining is something I thoroughly enjoy.
    The only thing that I might not be a big fan of are Doc’s superpowerful heals. I know it’s convenient to inflict even more damage upon her but I think it would make Dawnbringers even more evil if they did some damage to her, less severe than they did but cared little for restoring it, showing Donna further how little she meant for them (like breaking a pinky for example). Sure, she wouldn’t be suitable as their toy if they have overdone it, but there is a perfect balance between harm and utility to be found there, right? (I believe Donna isn’t getting off the hook yet).
    It is for the last chapter but I loved how she was given a piss bowl to be used as her plate, this is the kind of degradation I love.
    As John knows already, another great story of your collab it is in my book, I’ll be watching it with interest.

    Like

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