A large crowd had gathered in the reception hall, where a large square had been cordoned off for the auction. Delphyne and Camiel were both in the center, bound to stone pillars, and all around the cordons people stared hungrily at the display. Both women had developed a following during the competition, and it seemed there were many people eager to own one of them.
“What is the meaning of this?!” demanded Muhtadi. “My wife is not a slave to be sold off! And neither is your daughter!” He and the other players had been given what the dragon had called “a place of honor”, a sectioned off area next to the auction square. Everyone from last night’s dinner party was there, including the absent Mr Stiles, who’d turned out to be a small, nervous looking man with spectacles.
“I’m afraid it’s out of my hands,” said Karakostas smoothly, his voice dripping with sympathy. “Rules are rules, after all, and a dragon’s word is his bond. We have already promised everyone the opportunity to purchase your Qarinah. I cannot go back on that just because of her unique status.”
“So you will allow your own daughter to be auctioned off?!”
Karakostas gave a nonchalant shrug. “If that is how the auction plays out, then I have no choice.”
Muhtadi stared hopelessly at the man’s back as he casually strolled away to check on the preparations, seeming completely unperturbed at what was about to transpire. He turned to the Wilmingshires standing nearby. “Please, can you help me?” he pleaded. They had seemed in shock at the idea of a free women participating in the Paradisum Game. Perhaps they would be willing to listen. “My Camiel – Qarinah – does not deserve this!”
“Um, yes,” George said, sounding distracted. He and his wife were both staring up at the screens playing highlights of the day’s competition. They seemed spellbound by some kind of fight that had occurred between Ember and Ginger. “We will… of course we will lend our assistance, won’t we dear? Dear?”
Jessica tore herself away from the screen with a visible effort. “Y-yes, of course. We would feel just awful if we stood around and did nothing.” She looked back at the fight. “That… that can’t really be our Ginger, right? It, it can’t possibly…”
“She was very impressive,” Muhtadi told them, feeling awash in relief. “I cannot thank you enough.” He wasn’t a poor man – by most modern standards he was actually fairly wealthy – but within the Paradisium he was well aware that he was practically a beggar. The Wilmingshires though… he’d heard enough to know that they were among the richest of the rich. If they were truly willing to purchase Camiel’s freedom, he would sell them his soul without hesitation.
George waved his hand. “Think nothing of it, man! We players need to watch out for each other, yes?” He smiled at Muhtadi. “Were you planning to try something new this time?”
“Something… new…?” Muhtadi asked, confused.
“Don’t put it that way, George,” Jessica scolded. “You’re making it sound like there’s something wrong with the poor man if he wants to stick with the same kind.” She patted Muhtadi’s arm. “There’s nothing wrong with choosing another succubus if you want. We’re not here to judge.”
“Erm, quite right,” George said, sounding a little embarrassed. “My apologies if I came off as judgmental. It’s not the sort of thing we get up to ourselves, but we all have our own tastes, and no one should be ashamed about knowing what they like.”
“I am afraid I still don’t understand,” Muhtadi said. He actually had a good idea of what they meant by now, but he was fervently hoping that he was wrong.
He wasn’t. “I’m saying we’ll get you a new wife,” George told him proudly. “And don’t worry about the money; I insist! Whatever woman you fancy, as long as she’s for sale we’ll be more than happy to buy her for you.”
“Why don’t we go take a stroll around the Paradisium after the auction is over?” Jessica suggested. “See if we can find you the right someone!”
“I… I don’t want someone else,” said Muhtadi. “I thought you understood: Qarinah is not my slave. She is a free woman, and my wife!”
“Yes, and I’m certain she made a fine one,” George agreed. “But don’t underestimate the wares here, my friend! There’s more for sale than just sex appeal. We’ll find you a nice girl who can cook and clean and take care of all those other wifely duties, even better than your old one could. And of course, if you’d like to free her, you go right ahead! Like we said, that sort of thing’s not our cup of tea, but you can do whatever you like with her.”
The truly horrific thing was that he could tell they meant it. There was no cruelty in their tone or body language. They really didn’t see why their proposal didn’t solve his problem. “Please,” he tried a final time. “Please help me purchase Qarinah. I just want my wife back.”
“Ohhhh,” said George, and then frowned. “Really? I mean, that wouldn’t be right, now would it? You lost her fair and square, after all. There’s no need for sour grapes. It just seems, I don’t know, quite unsporting, don’t you agree, dear?” Jessica nodded beside him. “And besides, after the dog and the tentacles and all that, you don’t really want her, do you? No no, that won’t do at all. We’ll get you a fresh new girl, and you’ll soon forget all about that other one, I promise.”
This was useless, and they were running out of time. “What if it was your wife?” he asked George desperately. “If it was your Jessica who was up there right now, about to be sold off to someone else as a sex slave, taken away from you forever and mistreated, what would you do?”
Both of them reacted to the question with amusement. “Oh, but that would be ridiculous,” Jessica said with a giggle. “That’s not the sort of thing that happens to good people!”
“Now now, dear,” said George, his own tone light and jovial, “let’s not give Mr Basara the wrong impression. You seem to be a fine young man to me, very articulate, and I do so hope our friendship can continue after we all return home. But your wife? Like my sweetheart says, she wouldn’t be up there in the first place if it wasn’t meant to be. That’s just how the world works. Everything happens for a reason, my friend, and we all get what we deserve. That’s why people like us are on top, and why people like…” He gestured at some of the slaves. “Why people like them get themselves into such situations. It’s all for the best, really. Everyone is exactly where we belong.”
They were mad, the both of them. Stark raving mad. Muhtadi turned away from them, shaking his head. He couldn’t deal with this right now. The auction was about to begin.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Vin Emmeck as he stepped in the square and stood next to the two women, “it’s time… for a very special event.” The screens turned off and the lights in the hall darkened, until there remained only a bright spotlight shining on the man. “For the last three days, these two lovely women have dazzled us with their performances. And now, a once in a lifetime opportunity to make them yours! We’ll begin with the amazing Delphyne.” A second spotlight highlighted the green-haired woman. With her arms bound above her head, her entire body was on full display. A leather collar encircled her neck, the leash trailing down between her breasts. “Men and women alike have been captivated by this winged beauty! In the first round she dazzled us all with her grace in the air. In the second she astounded us with a fearsome display of power. And in the third she excited us with her submission!”
He began fondling her breasts, making the dragon squirm. “Oh, ladies and gentlemen, if you could only feel these soft, wondrous globes for yourself!” One of the screens behind him lit up to show a close up of her chest being groped and squeezed. “Anyone could happily play with these for hours! And the taste…” he leaned in and bit down hard on her right breast, making Delphyne yelp and struggle harder. A second later he straightened up, leaving a red bite mark behind. “Magnificent!”
Emmeck stepped behind the pillar and brought one hand around to stroke her flat stomach in small circles. “None of us here are strangers to beautiful women, but folks, Delphyne stands out as the cream of the crop even within the Paradisium. With her luscious emerald hair, her magnificent dragon wings, and her tantalizing figure, you won’t just be purchasing a slave. This girl is a work of art!” His hand slid lower to cup her pubic mound, and then he pushed two fingers into her. The screen zoomed in on her pussy as his fingers smoothly pumped in and out of it. “As we all know, true beauty is on the inside, and I can assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that these are some beautiful insides!” He pulled his hand out of her and stuck his wet fingers in her mouth, forcing her to taste her juices.
The announcer dried his fingers off in her hair and stepped away. The lights turned back on. “Whoever the lucky man or woman is that gets to bring this girl home, I won’t keep them waiting! We will begin the bidding at one dollar! That’s right, folks, you didn’t mishear me: one single dollar to own one of the finest pieces of flesh we’ve ever had the privilege to sell you. Do I hear one dollar?” Almost everyone in the hall raised their hand eagerly, but Emmeck only had eyes for one of them. “Mr Karakostas, our own esteemed host and oldest green dragon in the world, has tossed his hat in the ring! Who will be the first to challenge him for this prize?” A few hands went down, but most stayed up. “Who will win the honor of snatching Delphyne, his one and only flesh and blood daughter, right out from under him?” The remaining hands all disappeared very, very quickly.
Vin Emmeck turned in a slow circle, eying the crowd. “Well? Is there no one in this entire hall who values this green haired beauty as worth more than one dollar? No? Going once… going twice… sold! The lovely Delphyne has been sold to back to her father for a single dollar!”
Karakostas entered the square, fishing out a handful of loose coins from his pocket. He dumped it all into Emmeck’s outstretched hand. “Keep the change,” he said with a smile. Emmeck nodded, stuffing the money into his own pocket, then untied his daughter and handed the man the leash. Delphyne made no move at first, but when her father tugged the leash she stumbled forward obediently. Without a word, Karakostas turned and left, Delphyne trailing behind him.
“One down, one to go!” said Emmeck. The lights went out again to bathe him in the spotlight. “Qarinah. Astounding, incredible Qarinah!” A spotlight appeared on her. “Mankind has told legends about succubi for millennia, across every known culture,” he informed the crowd. “And this week, we saw exactly why! This gorgeous, dark-haired, green-eyed succubus redefines the word ‘insatiable’! We have all borne witness to the passion and love she has for her partners, no matter their appearance or species. If she can behave that way even around an ugly giant dog or a slimy tentacle monster, just imagine what she’ll be like in your bed!”
Muhtadi seethed as he watched the man continue to extol the wonders of owning his wife as a sex slave, all the while fondling and prodding her without permission. He was not a jealous man, and Camiel’s polyamory had never bothered him; he knew how much she loved him, so why should he begrudge her pleasure with others? It didn’t diminish the bond they had in the slightest, and it brought his wife such joy. But even though the sight of Camiel with another man was a familiar one, this was the first time she’d ever been an unwilling partner, and it made his blood boil.
He itched to rush out there and carry her away, but even if she wasn’t tied down, there were dozens of security guards scattered through the hall. They’d be lucky to make it five steps before someone brought them down, and then Camiel would only be in bigger trouble. So he restrained himself, standing still and quiet while a storm raged in his head. The spectacle continued for far too long, but finally Emmeck said the words Muhtadi had been waiting for. “Do I hear one dollar?” He shot his hand up.
There were more than a few people with interest in Camiel, and the price quickly rose into the hundreds of thousands. Muthadi had done some quick math before the auction, and estimated that if he liquidated everything he owned and spent all his life savings, he could possibly scrape together as much as two million dollars. Most of the slaves in the Paradisium went for five or six figures, so two million should be well above what those with a casual interest in his wife were willing to pay. Anyone with a serious interest, though, might be willing and able to put down far more.
“Mr. Patterson with nine hundred and fifty thousand!” cried Vin Emmeck eventually. “Do I hear one million?” Muhtadi quickly raised his hand, and caught Patterson scowling at him. Things were far from guaranteed yet, but it was looking like this might just be possible. There were only two other parties bidding for Qarinah, and both were growing increasingly reluctant as the price rose. “One million from Mr Basara!” said Emmeck. “Do I hear 1.1?”
Patterson dropped out after 1.5, but the third buyer, an elderly German lady named Weber, held on stubbornly, bidding at 1.7 and 1.9. “We have a bid for two million dollars from Mr Basara!” said Emmeck. “Do I hear 2.1?” Time seemed to slow down for Muhtadi as he watched Weber pause and consider. Please, he prayed silently. Please. If there was ever a time that Camiel needed help, it’s now. Please… Weber frowned and shook her head, and Muhtadi’s breath caught.
“We may have the reached the end here, folks,” Emmeck said. “Qarinah the succubus, going to Mr Muhtadi Basara for two million dollars. Going once… going twice…”
Ilya Petrov, who had been watching the auction with a dour expression the whole time, stirred and raised his hand. “Five million,” he called out, sounding bored. When he saw Muhtadi staring at him, he returned the look with an ugly grin, his missing teeth standing out prominently, and moved to stand next to him. “I am going to do things to your wife that even she has never heard of,” he said, softly enough that only Muhtadi could hear. “And I can promise you, cuckold, that no matter how much of a filthy painslut your inhuman whore of a wife turns out to be, I will see to it that she doesn’t derive an ounce of pleasure from a single moment of her captivity.”
“And a stunning five million dollar upset from Mr Petrov!” shouted Emmeck. “Someone really likes his succubi! Can we get six million?”
Muhtadi thought furiously. If he took out loans and called in favors, he might, might, be able to cover that much. They would be in debt for the rest of his life, but a life without Camiel wasn’t one worth living. He raised a hand, praying once more.
“Six million from-” Emmeck began.
“Twenty million,” Petrov interrupted loudly, his hand raised again. “My company budgets over three hundred million dollars annually on inhuman species research,” he told Muhtadi in a quiet, vicious tone. “Your wife’s eventual vivisection alone will be worth the price.”
“Mr Ilya Petrov with twenty million!” cried Emmeck. “I don’t think we’re going to beat that one anytime soon. Going once…”
“Please!” Muhtadi begged, turning to the Wilmingshires. “Please purchase her! I’ll do anything!”
“Going twice…”
“Don’t be silly, old boy,” George said, chuckling. “Look how much Mr Petrov wants her! It would be as shame to spoil the man’s fun.” His wife nodded.
“Sold to Mr Ilya Petrov!” Emmeck announced.
The crowd began to disperse now that the spectacle was over. Muhtadi collapsed to his knees. He’d failed. He’d failed and that monster now owned his wife. “I’m not completely heartless,” said Petrov, who still stood next to him. “I will let you visit your wife someday, after she’s been broken to the point where she doesn’t even remember you. You can witness how much better behaved she is, and even squirt some cum in her holes if you want. Assuming that there’s any friction left in them.” His warm spittle hit the top of Muhtadi’s head, and then he walked away.
“I will see you again, my love!” he heard Camiel shout. “No matter how long it may take, we will-” She was cut off by Petrov slapping her.
“Silence, bitch,” he snarled, and Muhtadi looked up to see the man forcing a ball gag into her mouth. “And get moving! You have spent far too long thinking yourself better than the rest of us. We are going to start by correcting that mistake.” Petrov dragged his wife away, holding onto her by a fistful of hair.
“I will save you, Camiel!” Muhtadi shouted back. “I swear it by the heavens!” Petrov looked back at him and sneered. “Don’t waste your time. Heaven and hell alike will want nothing to with this slut when I am finished with her.”
Muhtadi stayed there on his knees, watching hopelessly as his wife disappeared.
Ilya made frequent visits to the Paradisium in person to examine new subjects before buying them, and had taken the liberty of purchasing a permanent place of residence within it, stocked with all the comforts of home. The basement in particular saw a great deal of use whenever he was in town, especially if he was dragging along Nadia.
Qarinah hung from the ceiling just like that worthless cunt had last week, suspended by barbed wire wrapped around her arms. The creature’s skin was made of far tougher stuff than his daughter’s, but blood trickled down from the few barbs that had managed to pierce the skin, turning her front and back bloody. Nadia had made it clear just how agonizing it was to have all her weight tugging on those embedded barbs, but his new prize had kept relatively quiet so far. That was good; bitches were far more entertaining when they weren’t already broken.
She was still wearing the ballgag, and its bright red contrasted well with her dusky complexion. She was a beautiful creature, he’d give her that much. Her skin was clear and smooth, her features flawless, and her long, jet black hair was like silk. “You might make a halfway decent cum dump if you can learn your place,” he told her as he circled her, admiring her form. “But even if you prove too stupid to be trained, I still have a myriad of uses in mind for you.”
The creature showed little reaction to his words. She’d expressed no fear and made no sounds of pain yet, seemingly untroubled by her bloody bondage. On the contrary, she projected a sense of strength and quiet dignity, as though she was exactly where she needed to be. This told Ilya two things. First, that she was a resilient animal. She didn’t simply possess a body that was harder to injure, she had mental fortitude and a high tolerance for pain. Second, that she was a very foolish animal. Only someone with no understanding of her position would be unafraid in these circumstances.
Petrov pulled the ballgag out of her mouth and let it dangle at her neck. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her.
“A man who has grasped hold of the tiger’s tail,” Qarinah said calmly. “And doesn’t yet realize the danger he’s brought upon himself by doing so.”
Ilya snorted. “Naked and trussed up for the slaughter, and you think you can cow me with threats?”
She held his gaze. “No threats. Just a warning, delivered in good faith, and an offer to assist. I try to be the forgiving sort, Ilya Petrov. I’ve seen the dregs of humanity, and I know that even the worst of us are capable of redemption. No matter how far you think you’ve gone, I promise you: it’s not too late to save yourself.”
“Save myself?” he asked amused. From the wall, he selected a cat of nine tails, each strand of which had shards of metal sticking out at irregular intervals and angles. It was an instrument intended for punishing Nadia, not just disciplining her. Each stroke would rip bits of flesh from her body, and it never took more than three to reduce her to a sobbing wretch. It wouldn’t be nearly as effective on his new slave, but it should get through even her thick hide. “You have stumbled upon the right idea, but you think far too small. I am not here to save myself. I am here to be humanity’s savior.”
“And just what do you think you’re saving your people from?” she asked.
“From creatures like you,” he told her. “Any idiot can see the advantages monsters have over humans. You are stronger, faster, live longer, possess abilities that defy physics. Mankind only remains on top because of our numbers, and those won’t protect us forever. If we let you have your way, you subhumans will overrun us eventually, and we will lose our rightful place in the world. But I will not let that happen.”
“Creatures like me?” she repeated. “Ilya, you don’t even know what sort of creature I really am, let alone my intentions. Would you like to see what ‘creature’ you purchased?”
A pair of white wings burst from her back, scattering minute droplets of blood in the air. They were several feet long, and each feather shone with an inner light, their gentle glow illuminating and warming the entire basement. “I am called Camiel,” the angel intoned, “and I have spent centuries acting as a shepherd and protector of humanity. I am not your enemy, Ilya Petrov, nor an enemy of mankind.”
Ilya sneered, and brought the whip down across her stomach. He was pleased to see it leave bloody lines scrawled over her smooth skin, and even more pleased to see her flinch. “This is the weakness of you subhumans,” he told her. “Because we lack your advantages, you underestimate us, pretend we are just foolish children that can be manipulated and deceived.” He struck her again, this time on her chest, making the lush curves there jiggle and bleed and drawing a small sound of pain from her lips. “I’ve known your identity for some time now, angel. Or rather, fallen angel.” His sneer grew as he lashed her again. “Such a slut that even Heaven threw you out.” To his amusement, that statement seemed to hurt her as much as the whip had.
Her calmness had vanished. There was surprise on her face now, and indignation, and just a bit of fear. He would nurture that last one, until it was the only expression she ever wore. “I chose to leave,” she said, “and a man who owns multiple slaves and has a sex dungeon in his basement should think twice before calling someone else a slut. My sexual preferences are none of your business.”
“Your sexual preferences are meaningless now,” Ilya said. “Everything in your head and everything in your past is meaningless. What matters now is that you are my property, and you will be put to use. You will help pay for the sins of all your kind.”
Camiel smiled with gentle amusement, her aura of calm restored. “Sin. So many people like to bandy that word around. Would you like to know a secret about the world, Ilya? The kind of deep, dark secret upon which empires have risen and fallen? There’s no such thing as sin or evil. The opposite of goodness is ignorance. Sometimes willful, sometimes blind. We commit what you would call sins when we let ourselves forget that other people deserve love and respect. When we forget to love and respect ourselves. When we ignore the things we know are true because they conflict with the things we want to be true, and the things we fear to be true.”
There was something so soothing about her words. She spoke to Ilya as if they were not captive and captor, or even total strangers, but rather like two old friends engaging in casual debate. For a second, he found himself wavering, wondering if he really wanted to do as he’d planned… and then he swore and spat on her face. “Get out of my head,” he snarled. “Parlor tricks like that may help you seduce animals, but it will take more than that to control me, dogfucker.”
The angel’s smile deepened, taking no notice of the spittle on her cheek. “There is no trick to this, Ilya. No magic powers. You’re just talking to someone who neither hates nor fears you, and believes that even someone whose hands are as dirty as yours can become worth of peace and happiness.” She added dryly, “I suspect I’m a rarity, to be sure. And those beasts below us, who you seem so eager to shame me for, are perfect examples of what I’m trying to communicate. I know that they seem violent and malevolent at first glance, but they possess no true evil in their souls. They’ve simply been starved of affection, and taught that the only way to obtain it is to take it by force.” Her green eyes focused on him, warm and piercing. “What half-truths were you fed, Ilya, to make you believe that this was the right path to walk down? What doors in your heart have you left closed only because their existence has been hidden from you?”
“I’m not going to waste any more time listening to this garbage,” he snapped, bursting with irritation over her twisting lies. She was just trying to confuse him. “I don’t need to convince you how foolish and wrong you are when I can just show you.” He set down the whip for now, in favor of something sharper, and approached his captive.
Her eyes flickered down at his cock briefly. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” she told him, “but if you think a bit of pain and sex will break me to your will, you are sadly mistaken.” She looked down again and licked her lips. “Honestly, if you’d just asked, I wouldn’t have minded spending some time down here with you. Muhtadi is a wonderful man and I love him dearly, but he lacks the right viciousness when it comes to pain play. I haven’t had a good partner for this sort of fun in decades.”
“As I said, you underestimate us. I did not purchase you for your fuckholes, angel. I have other uses in mind for you.” He circled behind her. “I founded Paragon with a simple goal in mind: to improve humanity. To elevate us above the physical superiorities possessed by subhuman filth. You creatures have so many physical advantages over us, yes, but there is one thing none of you ever realize.” He eyed her back, deciding the best spot to begin. “Whatever you have, we can take for ourselves.”
Camiel screamed as the scalpel cut into her. It was sharp enough to pierce even the toughest of monsters, and she was no exception. “Stop!” she cried out. The sudden terror in her tone was quite satisfying. “You, you can’t!”
“Can’t remove your wings?” Ilya asked as he got to work. “It is a rather simple procedure actually, once you know what to do. The key is to remove not only the external wings themselves, but the corresponding muscles within the back.”
“You don’t have to do this!” she insisted. “I will do what you want! Whatever you want!”
Ilya scoffed. “Perhaps you are too stupid to even be a cum dump after all. These wings are the reason I purchased you, slut.” That, and to teach her husband a lesson in respect. “I have important plans for them.”
The angel made a choked sound that expressed both terror and outrage at the idea. “Plans?! This is senseless mutilation!”
“Yes, the alkonost thought the same thing,” he told her. “Insisted that I was insane for thinking I could cut off her wings and graft them onto my daughter. But now she is a wingless fucktoy somewhere while Nadia gets to fly like no other human ever has. Not that the cunt ever expresses proper gratitude for it.” It only took a few minutes to get the job done, and he had a medical cooler already prepared. Ilya put the detached wings in as gently as possible. The last thing he wanted was to damage them before they went to their new owner.
Camiel was sobbing by the time he was finished, all of her previous composure gone. There were few things more arousing than a beautiful woman crying, and Ilya was painfully hard. But she wasn’t ready yet. The angel shrieked as the whip dug into her skin again, leaving fresh bloody scrawls on her back. Now that he didn’t have to worry about hurting her wings, he could swing the whip as hard as he liked. He lashed her repeatedly, clawing up everywhere but her face until her body was covered in red cobwebs.
“What happens next depends on you,” he told her, not stopping with the whip. “If you can convince me you’ll be a good fucktoy, I’ll allow you to live as one. But you’ll have to be very convincing, slut, because you still have a lot of useful parts to go around. If nothing else, hearts and eyes are always good targets for transplanting. I’ve never gotten to experiment with an angel before, so I don’t know what the effects will be. From a scientific standpoint, the smartest option is to cut out every last organ and investigate the results of each on a different subject. If you’re still alive after that, your brain will go into a jar like the other immortals.” “Please,” she begged, “I’ve done nothing to you!”
“On the contrary, slut, your very existence is an affront. Lording it above humanity, thinking yourself our betters… the only rightful place monsters have in this world is on their knees in front of their masters.” Ilya tossed the whip to the ground, unable to hold off any longer. He’d paid special attention to the wingless angel’s shapely ass, and her dark skin was covered with hundreds of lines upon lines upon lines by now. She gasped when he grabbed those two cheeks and forced them apart, then squealed as he drove his hard cock into her asshole. He sank in easily, her sphincter not offering the slightest resistance as he buried himself in her, his balls slapping her pussy. That didn’t mean she was loose though. Quite the opposite: he’d never felt a tighter hole. It had a solid grip while being easy and painless to move around in, even without any lubrication. Her asshole was as inhuman as the rest of her, seemingly designed to be a perfect fuckhole.
There had been pain in her squeal, but pleasure as well, and that was unacceptable. Ilya refused to allow the creature to find any joy in what he was doing to her. He had experience with pain sluts though. Camiel shrieked again, and this time there was no enjoyment to it. “Not for you, slut,” he taunted as he twisted the pliers he was gripping her clit with. Even the most degenerate masochist had her limits, and from the way she thrashed and shook, he had just taken her far beyond hers. “Pleasure for others, but never for you. From now on, if I get a hint of arousal from you, we will find out how much torture it takes to make it stop. If you end up as a fucktoy instead of a science experiment, I will train you to loathe sex.”
“Noooooo!” she wailed, sounding even more distressed about that than she had about losing her wings.
She was a horny little animal, that was clear. Ilya found himself using the pliers on her nonstop to prevent her from enjoying what was going on, making her screech and scream as he pounded her asshole. “Here is your first test, angel,” he told her as he felt his orgasm draw near. “If your cunt is damp after I cum, I will shove a hot poker up here to replace my cock.” He let go of the pliers, leaving them clamped around her bud. It swung back and forth as he slammed in and out of her, its weight causing her no end of distress. Ilya came in the wingless angel’s guts, his fingers digging into her wounds to draw out fresh screams as his jizz spurted out. Her rectum rippled around him, skillfully drawing out every last drop even as its owner howled in agony. Yes, she might just make a good cum dump indeed.
Without pulling out of her, Ilya reached around to give the pliers a sharp tug, just to make her flinch and gasp. Then he investigated her cunt, and happily confirmed that she wasn’t too big of a slut after all. “Nice and dry,” he declared. Despite that, it was as strangely welcoming as her asshole had been, taking his fingers with no trouble and sucking on them eagerly. Though the feel of her soft folds pulsing around his digits make his cock throb in anticipation, imagining how it would feel in that warm pocket, it would be some time before he took her in that hole. Until she’d been through a little more training, he wasn’t going to take the risk of her enjoying it.
Not that he had to leave her cunt alone completely, of course. Camiel cried out as he balled his right hand into a fist and penetrated her with it, making it all the way to her cervix without any trouble. His left hand took hold of the pliers, and for a long time, Petrov lost himself in the fun: pummeling her insides with one hand, twisting and tugging her clit with the other, and all the while her hot guts were a vise around his cock. He never even had to move his hips to finish, not with the way the pain made her wriggle and clench. He came twice more in her ass, and was on his way to a third, when he finally gave his new toy some relief by pulling his fist from her insides and releasing her clitoris from the jaws of the plier.
Ilya reluctantly left her asshole and put on some gloves so that he could safely unwind the barbed wire from her arms. She collapsed to the floor once she was freed, looking exhausted beyond measure. She laid on her side, her breathing came in out in shallow pants and his cum bubbling out of her stretched ass, making no move to flee or fight. Only the movements of her bloodshot green eyes told him that she was still conscious. Petrov kicked her in the side to get her attention. “I do not own any lazy fucktoys, slut. You are not yet finished servicing my dick.”
The wingless angel trembled as she forced herself up onto her knees, her weariness turning the simple movement into a herculean task. When she made it, she was greeted by his wet cock slapping the side of her face. She needed no further command to know what to do; her mouth opened obediently, if reluctantly, and she swallowed up his cock, taking him deep into her throat. Her tongue went to work immediately, lapping him clean with delicate, teasing motions that threatened to make him finish before he’d even started. There was no way he could reach her clit with the pliers in this position, so he settled for kicking her in the cunt instead, each blow making her twitch and gurgle around his cock. “Eventually, bitch,” he promised, “you will associate this hole of yours with nothing but pain. When you next see your husband again – and I will most definitely arrange that to happen – you will cry and beg him not to take you that way.” Camiel moaned around his cock, but her tongue didn’t pause.
It was only a couple minutes before the slut was choking down a fresh load of semen, and followed it down with a mouthful of piss. The wingless angel was limp and unresisting as Ilya pushed her down onto her back and wound more barbed wire around her legs, forcing them into a wide split that left her crotch completely exposed. “You’ve managed to drain my balls like a proper cum dump,” he told her. It was a genuinely impressive feat in its own way; after thorough experimentation on satyrs and other subhuman creatures renowned for their sexual virility, he’d developed a drug for his personal use that put Viagra to shame. “And now, until I’m willing to fuck you again, it’s time for more torture.” He took a riding crop with a sandpaper like texture and started slapping it against her spread slit, each hit making her entire body convulse and ripping a new scream from her lungs. Her insides grew red and sore, every stroke drawing a greater reaction than the last as he taught her to hate her own womanhood.
Ilya made it through several more rape and torture sessions before his alarm beeped to tell him it was midnight. “Luckily for you, slut,” he told the creature, “I need to get up early tomorrow morning for the game.” Unlike Tanya, he couldn’t trust Nadia to behave unsupervised. There was no telling what the girl might do if she thought she could get away with it.
Camiel’s only response to her reprieve was a tiny grunt from where she laid once more sprawled on the floor. Her body was littered with injuries, and smeared in blood and semen from head to toe. Even her face had not been spared for long, and was now distorted by cuts and burns and bruises, one cheek dented where he’d struck her with a steel bat. He’d put the slut through her paces, testing a good chunk of the instruments here to determine what did and didn’t work. As he’d expected, her skin was tough enough to absorb almost all blunt trauma, and nearly immune to hot and cold. He’d made an important discovery along the way, though: her resistance was literally skin deep. Go any deeper and she was as fragile as any other woman. The wingless angel hadn’t batted an eye when he’d touched the cattle prod to her skin, even when he’d pressed it against her nipples, but when he’d slid it into her cunt and turned it on, she’d shrieked so hard that she burst a blood vessel in her eye, painting it scarlet. She was going to be no trouble to train.
The slut let out an adorable whimper when she saw he’d gotten the barbed wire out again. “We will continue this tomorrow tonight,” he said as he secured her back in her original position, hanging from the ceiling by her arms. “Until then, stay here and reflect on your foolishness, angel. After millennia spent looking down on on humanity, you’re finally going to realize your true place in the universe. And even if you outlive me for millennia more, I will see to it that you never forget the things I have to teach you.”
Though the position was the same, Camiel’s appearance was almost completely different from how she’d been a few hours ago. There was no more sense of strength to her, no more otherworldly beauty. She was just a weak, mutilated, defiled piece of meat awaiting her next use. But for all that, beneath all the filth and ugliness, there was still a lingering spark of that quiet dignity. “Still not… too late…” the wingless angel whispered, her bloody eye fixed on him. “Never… too late… to change…”
Ilya barked out a short laugh. “All that and you still think to lecture me? I must have been too easy on you.” Camiel was too exhausted to scream when he pierced her clitoris, but the sad sound of despair she made was even sweeter, and nearly convinced him to stick around for a bit longer. But he needed his sleep, and there would be plenty of time to rape his newest project tomorrow. “In an ideal world I would use your wedding ring for this,” he told her as he inserted a golden ring and gave a tug, drawing out another lovely sound. “But your husband must have it, so this will have to do for now.” He attached a weight to the ring, stretching her clit and making her groan miserably.
The weight swung slightly, torturing her with every movement, and he watched Camiel force herself to hold still and limit the pain, restricting herself to small breaths. That wouldn’t do at all, so Ilya selected one final instrument of torture. Camiel was not too exhausted to scream when he rammed the cattle prod back up her pussy, taped it in place, and turned it on. She danced and thrashed in the air, making the barbed wire dig into her arms and the weight on her clit swing wildly. “Welcome to the next eighteen hours of your life, slut. Remember this while you wait for me: it will only get worse from here.”
He couldn’t even tell if she’d heard him as the wingless angel flailed and shrieked, lost in her own private hell. Petrov left her to it. He had a contest to attend to.
“You set that entire farce up just for me, didn’t you?” Astaria accused. “Or do you expect me to believe it was a coincidence that the round I lost became host to this surprise auction?” She paced back and forth in her father’s private study, furious. No longer naked, she wore a strapless green dress tailored to match her hair and wings. Like all the dresses her father had ever gifted her, it was designed to look dazzling and expensive, not to be comfortable. This one had an almost sheer fabric that clung to her skin and exposed far too much of her breasts for her liking. It wasn’t clothing, it was a costume for showing her off in. She’d felt better naked. “You are as astute as ever, my daughter,” said Karakostas, leaning back slightly in his chair behind the desk. “Yes, I had the preparations made weeks ago for a special auction to be held during the game at a time of my choosing. When I witnessed your mishap with the koala, I knew that time had come.” He chuckled to himself. “I do hope Mr Petrov is not so foolish as to believe I would not see through his little deception with his daughters. I would tell him that such subterfuges are unnecessary if I wasn’t afraid of injuring his pride.”
“For what purpose?” Astaria demanded. “Did you do all that just to humiliate me, make me feel like an animal to be bought and sold? Or was I meant to run into your arms crying, thank you for saving me, and promise never to defy you again? What petty reason was important enough to ruin that poor woman’s life over?!” That was what really burned about the situation. Astaria could handle being toyed with by her father; the experience was familiar, if nothing else. But his cruel prank had turned Qarinah – Camiel – into a hapless slave. She’d entered the Paradisium Game to free slaves, not create more of them.
“Don’t be silly, Astaria,” her father chided. “Do you truly believe that I would go to all that trouble just to impress on you some small lesson? I have already learned all too well that you have inherited my stubbornness.” He rose from his seat and stepped around the desk to face her directly. “I had a far more important reason for arranging that auction.” “Yes? And what was that?” Astaria challenged.
Karakostas gently stroked her hair in one hand. “Oh, this sweet naive daughter of mine. Must I spell it out for you?” His hand suddenly gripped her hair tight, and he pulled her towards him, meeting her lips with his own. Astaria yelled in surprise and tried to squirm away, but her father was much stronger, and he kept their lips locked together as his tongue greedily licked at her closed mouth, easily swatting away her attempt to knee him in the groin. He maintained the disgusting one-sided kiss for more than a full minute before he finally released his hold and let her step back, her chest heaving.
She stared at him in disgust, still feeling his drool all over her lips even after wiping it away with a shaking hand. “You… you can’t be serious…” she breathed, and then flinched when he slapped her hard across the face.
“Do you know why you were born, Astaria?” her father asked coldly. “Because I have spent centuries building something truly magnificent, and I wanted a child that could one day inherit my legacy. For a long time, I thought you were that child. I raised you, I groomed you, I taught you everything you needed to know. And what did I end up with?” His lip curled in a sneer. “A pathetic runt of a girl who wanted to throw away my life’s work.”
Astaria backed away in fear as he came closer, but the study wasn’t very large, and her back hit the wall after only a few steps. Karakostas closed in on her, seizing her arms and pinioning them behind her. Something snapped around her wrists, trapping them in place. “But I did not get to where am I today by throwing away useful resources, my daughter,” he told her, as his clawed hands began pawing at her breasts through her thin dress. “So I have found another use for your… assets. You are officially my slave now, Astaria, and will serve as such. Perhaps in time, if you prove yourself worthy, I will allow you the honor of breeding me a true heir.”
“You are mad,” she said. “I… I will never submi-*guh*” Karakostas buried a fist into her stomach, turning her words of defiance into a strangled squawk and knocking the wind out of her. Before she could take a breath, he punched her again. “I had that dress commissioned after I decided your new destiny,” he told her as he continued pummeling her stomach. “Just because you are a slave now does not mean I will allow you to look less than your best. Despite its appearance, it is stronger than steel and should hold up no matter how much abuse you receive.” Indeed, while her stomach was slowly bruising from his fists, the dress didn’t have a single rip in it. “I did, however, request a few special seam lines.” His claws ripped at her low cut bodice, and the fabric parted in a perfectly even line, resulting in an even lower neckline that her breasts fell out of. They jiggled as he returned to beating her stomach.
After several minutes, he seemed to grow tired of hitting her and snapped a collar around her neck. It was as fancy as the dress, a stylish silver band adorned with emeralds. “I’m going to fuck you now, Astaria,” he told her. “I’m going to throw you onto that desk and I’m going to rape you bloody, and there is nothing you can do about it.”
Astaria gasped for breath, and suddenly pain more severe than her father’s fists blossomed through her entire body and she collapsed to her knees. It was like being burned and stabbed everywhere at once at the same time, and it took several seconds of blinding agony before she realized that it was the collar delivering an electric shock. Not only that, it was cutting off her air somehow. It wasn’t any tighter, but no matter how hard she tried to breathe, nothing happened. She rolled around on the floor, choking and convulsing and terrified.
Karakostas kicked her to get her attention. “The collar is keyed to your breath, my idiot daughter. It will stop when you stop trying to breathe deeply.”
It took some time for her to manage the feat. Her lungs were screaming for air, and it was pure torture to deny them, taking in light breaths that only barely gave her any peace. It took only about twenty seconds for the collar to ease off with the electricity and let her breathe, but it felt a thousand times longer. She continued taking those same pitiful, unsatisfying breaths. She could feel her dragonfire right there inside her, so close that she could almost touch it and strong enough to easily free her from this bondage, but without being able to breathe properly, it might as well have been a million miles away.
“That’s it,” Karakostas said, with the approval of a man who has taught his dog a new trick. “Shallow breaths only. Shallow breaths forever.”
She whined at the idea. “I… I won’t transform,” she pleaded. “I’ll swear… so don’t… don’t need to…”
He kicked her again. “You still don’t understand the balance of power here, Astaria. I have it; you don’t. There are no bargains or negotiations to be had. Only obedience and discipline.” He grabbed her hair and dragged over to the desk, which he put her on face up, her legs hanging off the front. There was another ripping sound as he tore a hidden seam at the crotch to expose her pussy. Astaria’s father loomed over her, his hands on her breasts to keep her pinned down with his weight while his cock probed between her legs, seeking her opening. She looked down and couldn’t stop herself from screaming at the sight of his cock, the sound cut off a moment later by her collar. It was massive, covered in hard scales, and longer than his forearm. The monster dogs in the cave below would have been envious.
“Impressive, is it not?” he remarked, smiling at her terrified reaction and frantic attempts to regain control of her breath. “Why else do you think in the olden days we had to keep demanding fresh virgin sacrifices? It’s a rare woman who can take this without dying.” Astaria thrashed and danced in an effort to keep him out of her, but her father had never been anything but patient, and he simply waited for exhaustion to overcome adrenaline. A moment after the green-haired woman’s struggles slowed down, she squealed as he rammed his hips forward and penetrated her.
“Yesssss,” he said triumphantly, drawing back only to slam into her again, each thrust sharp and violent. “I will admit, daughter, that I was worried when I saw you with the leviathan. I thought perhaps it would permanently stretch out your holes and make you an unsatisfactory vessel. But I need not have worried. Dragon cunt was designed to be resilient enough to accept dragon cock, after all. Yours is even tighter than your mother’s, and I fucked my way through over one hundred different species before I found her.” He shook his head. “Our seed is potent enough to take root in any race’s womb and produce a pureblooded dragon free of their inferiorities, but so very few can survive the process.” “Mother?” Astaria said, gasping for small breaths. He hurt, far worse than any of the leviathan’s many tentacles, but what he’d said was even more important than the way his thick cock was destroying her insides. “You… you said Mother…” “I said she died during childbirth,” Karakostas told her. “And she did. I saw no need to mention that she was just a pathetic slave granted the honor of breeding solely on the virtue of possessing a cunt tight enough to enjoy and strong enough not to rip in two. Just as I saw no need to let you know that the reason she died during your birth had less to do with any unseen complications, and more because she choked to death on my cock at roughly the same time she was popping you out. Her cunt was strong, but not strong enough to keep from going loose from our play, and I had no interest in keeping around a sub-par slave after she had performed her function and given me a child.”
Her father’s cock was hot agony inside her, but it was nothing compared to the anguish in her head. Father had never spoken much about her mother, but he’d always given the impression that it was because her death pained him so. Even after she’d seen the truth behind the Paradisium, she’d believed that must be some sliver of goodness in him if he’d been so in love with Mother. Meanwhile she had spent her whole life grappling with the guilt of being responsible for her mother’s death. Lies. All lies…
“No!” Astaria shouted, and struggled harder than ever, hard enough that her breathing triggered the collar again and made her shake wildly on top of the desk. She couldn’t let this happen! But Father was so much stronger than her, and her panicked movements only seemed to excite him.
“My only regret is that I did not do this sooner,” he told her. “If I had realized that there was nothing but empty fancies in your head, I could have been enjoying you for years. All this time, this snug fuckhole has been going to waste.” He began to pound her even harder, hungry and eager. “We’ll have to make up for lost time!” Every time he pushed into her, it felt like she being ripped in two, and every time he pulled out was like being gutted by his claws. “Do you feel how tightly your cunt hugs me, daughter?” Karakostas asked. “How it sucks and squeezes and kisses my shaft, begging for more? This is what you were truly made for. You will never be anything more than this, a warm sheathe for my cock!”
He lifted his head back and bellowed, the sound inhuman and guttural, and Astaria squealed as his hot cum sprayed her tender insides. It took a full thirty seconds for him to finish, and when he was done his sperm filled every inch of her pussy and drooled down onto the desk. “That cunt is already more than worthy of my seed and my progeny,” he said, panting slightly. “We shall see how long it takes for the rest of you to catch up.”
Karakostas stepped back, grabbing her hair to pull her with him, putting her on her knees in front of the desk. He waved his thick cock in her face, still huge despite going soft. Blood and cum were smeared all over the shaft. “It is time for your first lesson in obedience, daughter. Suck.”
Astaria shook her head in denial. Her pussy still felt like someone had gone at it with a lawn mower and poured alcohol over the wound. “No,” she hissed, her head pounding as she forced herself to keep taking meager little breaths. “I will not submit to you.” “Is that really your decision?” her father asked, his voice stern. “Do not make that choice lightly, Astaria. I do not play games with my slaves.”
She shook her head again. “Won’t… won’t do it…” “Very well,” Karakostas said calmly. “If you are not willing to obey, then I will make you meat.”
The thought sent an icy bolt of terror into her. To be one of those tortured, miserable women… “no,” she whispered. “You… you wouldn’t…” Not to his own daughter. He had to be bluffing. Even a man as vile as him couldn’t be so far gone that he would do that to his own daughter!
She screamed as he leaned down and jabbed a claw right into her forehead, the tip sinking slightly into the skin and sending blood running down her face. He slowly forced the claw up, ripping open her skin and turning the trickle of blood into a stream. He made a diagonal slash going down, another going up, and then another long slash straight down. Astaria felt like she was in a nightmare when she realized what he was doing. M. He’d just inscribed an M on her forehead. “Stop,” she begged as he began to write the E, making another long downward slash next to the M. “Father, please, not that! I have changed my mind! I will do what you want!” Three small slashes completed the letter, and he immediately began scrawling the A, sweeping his claw up and over and down. “Please! I, I will suck you! I promise!” Another small slash completed the A. “Pleaaaaase!”
He drew the first line of the T across her forehead. She saw him raise his claw, preparing to bring it down and finish the job, and in a panic she lunged forward, seeking his cock with her mouth. His head was hard and sharp and foul tasting, and she sucked and lapped at it as though she’d never had a finer feast. Slobber ran down her chin and she began to gag as she forced him deeper into her mouth, smacking the back of her throat against him. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and desperate and pleading, his flat and emotionless, as she took him into her throat. Astaria couldn’t breathe but she kept moving forward, not back, driving his cock deeper and deeper into her, working her lips slowly down the length of his freakishly long shaft. The taste of him didn’t improve, and the jagged scales sliced at her tongue and the insides of her mouth and throat, but she was relentless.
Astaria was light headed and dizzy by the time she’d swallowed his entire cock. Her lips were stretched wide around him, her neck bulged with his mass, and his heavy balls rested on her slimy chin. She continued staring at him, silently begging him to accept her display of submission. She scanned his face, looking for any sign of mercy or hesitation, but he remained expressionless, his claw still raised and ready. “Is this your new answer?” he asked finally, and she quickly nodded.
She whimpered as his claw sunk into her forehead again. One more movement and it would be over. She would be marked as meat, and she knew enough of the Paradisium to know that the transition was only ever one way. “You are my daughter,” Karakostas said. “And I do hold a fondness for your cunt. So I will offer you something I have not given anyone in over a thousand years: a second chance.” Relief washed over her, but his claw was still in her flesh. “Make no mistake, there will be no third. The first act of disobedience, the first sign of reluctance, the first inkling of pride above your station, and I will finish what I started. You have only two paths to choose from, daughter: the perfect slave, or meat. What will you do?” By way of answer, she stuck her tongue out and gently lapped at his scrotum. He gave her a rare smile then, and his claw withdrew. She had no time to rejoice, though; his cock pulsed and hot liquid began to spray out. Astaria ignored every last instinct in her body and kept her mouth tight around him and her tongue massaging his balls as her father pissed down her throat. Only when the last few drops had dribbled out did she allow herself to pull back, leaving spit and throat slime over the length of his shaft.
When she was far enough back, she took a few shallow breaths and then reversed to swallow him back up. Astaria fucked her father with her throat, and soon he was as long and thick as ever. As his grotesque cock stretched her gullet and ripped at her flesh, she used the destruction to help her fuck him harder, turning her ruined throat into a fuckhole for him. After several minutes of this, she froze; his claw was back on her forehead.
“What are you?” Karakostas asked. His tone was placid and neutral, but she knew the price of a wrong answer.
The green-haired woman pulled away from his cock slowly, making no sudden movements that might be misinterpreted. “I am a warm sheathe for your cock, Father,” she told him meekly.
He said nothing, but the fact that she was still his slave was all the approval she would ever get from him now. His claw retracted and he gripped her horns in both hands. “Pay careful attention, daughter,” he told her. “This is how I like my throatfucks.” He pulled on her horns, slamming her face violently against his crotch.
“Guk guk guk!” Astaria gurgled as her father yanked her horns forward and back to fuck her throat in a frenzy, showing absolutely no concern for her. Her face slapped against him over and over, her features covered with drool and his balls bouncing off her chin. He drove into her throat without any regard for how much damage he might be doing with his scales, or whether she would have time to breathe. It wasn’t even sadism that motivated him. As she looked into his eyes, not daring to break eye contact, she could see that he wasn’t taking any particular enjoyment in her suffering. She wasn’t certain if he was even aware of it. It was just a meaningless byproduct of his pleasure.
The dragon woman had heard the term “fleshlight” before, but this was her first time truly understanding what it meant to be used as one. Her father didn’t care that he was hurting her, didn’t care that she was his daughter, didn’t care about anything at all but his own satisfaction right now. Indeed, she might as well have been an inanimate object for all the thought he was giving to her. Tears ran down her face as she realized that her answer to his question really had been correct: she was just a warm sheathe for his cock.
His grip on her horns disappeared, and for a moment they were both still, only a few inches of his prick still nestled in her throat. Then she rammed her own face against him, moving her head back and forth with the same speed and intensity he had just demonstrated. Karakostas watched as she throatfucked him the way he liked it, ignoring her own need to breathe and the sharp, crushing agony every time his scaly cock pounded her soft throat.
It took only a few more minutes for him to start cumming. She didn’t dare slow down, unwilling to risk his disapproval. Her soaking wet face continued to slap slap slap against his crotch as his sperm filled her stomach. Only when he was finished did he lay a hand on her forehead, and she immediately paused, awaiting her next order.
“On the desk,” he said. “You have one more hole to try.”
Nausea welled up in her, but Astaria only nodded and rose. She spread her legs and bent over, her stomach and breasts squishing against the puddle of cum left behind when he’d raped her pussy. The green-haired woman stared blankly at the wall of the study as her father ripped another seam of her dress to expose her asshole. His shaft rubbed against her butt cheek, and she could feel that his excitement had left him fully erect once more. There was nothing she could do but remain quiet and still as he began to push.
Her anus resisted for a time. Not because she was trying to fend him off, or even because she had trouble relaxing her ass – she had learned that technique quickly with the leviathan – but because he was simply too big. His fat head prodded her too small opening, and could only push her forward at first, rubbing her body against the cum splattered wood. But he kept trying, applying pressure to her rosebud, and her flesh slowly began to give in.
“Do you know why the Paradisium Game exists?” he asked her out of the blue, as he slowly penetrated her.
“N-no, Father,” she answered honestly, grateful for any chance to distract herself from what he was doing.
“It’s not to make money,” he said. “Some years are so expensive we barely recoup the cost. It’s not because of its popularity either. People all over the world watch it, but even without it, they would still purchase from us. No, the game serves a far more important purpose.”
One of his claws sank into her left ass cheek without warning, making her squeal and clench his invading shaft. He was writing on her body again. “It is the same reason we mark defective slaves as meat instead of just killing them immediately: to make sure everyone knows what slaves like you really are. When they watch you suffer and debase yourselves for their entertainment, when they see you tortured and killed for fun, it teaches them that you are not people, you are toys. They laugh and cheer at every moment of misery, and then they go home and treat their own slaves more roughly for it.”
She didn’t have to look to see what he was writing; his movements were slow and deliberate, and the pain formed a clear picture in her mind: WORTHLESS. “If the Paradisium was just about sex, we would only wield a fraction of the influence we do today. No, we are not in the business of selling sex slaves, daughter, we sell property. We take beautiful, vibrant creatures, and we turn them into objects that deserve no sympathy or love. That thrill of owning another life, of being able to do whatever you like with it without the burden of conscience… it is a far greater pleasure than anything mere genitalia can produce.”
He moved on to her other cheek. “That is what you are now, daughter. I enjoy the tightness of your body, but never mistake that for more than it is. In my mind, you are no different from a shoe rack or a piece of toilet paper. You are a thing that has a use, and if someday you cease to be useful, you will be thrown out like any other piece of trash. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father,” she said obediently. He finished writing: FAILURE.
He placed his hands on her bleeding cheeks, his fingers callously digging into the fresh cuts. “Push,” came the command, and she did, even though it was like gripping the blade of a knife. With her assistance, her father literally tore his way through her sphincter muscle to get into her, adding a coat of blood to his prick to join the spit and cum. Unwilling to show even a moment of mercy, he stabbed her with it, driving himself deep into her guts despite the damage he must be doing to her asshole. No, she realized with sudden and wretched clarity, not despite the damage. The fact that he was ruining her was part of the lesson. Karakostas was marking her as his, as blatantly as a dog might urinate on a tree. He wanted to teach her that her asshole, just like the rest of her, belonged to him now, and he could do whatever he pleased with it.
This rational analysis of his behavior took place only in the back of her mind, almost more subconscious than anything else. The rest of her was consumed by pain and terror. Being raped by her father was like being gutted and beaten to death at the same time. His rock hard cock pushed everything else in her aside in its quest to get as deep in her as possible, and left behind countless internal lacerations and bruises. Astaria didn’t even realize she was screaming until she choked on her own bloody spittle. Even the constant shocks of the collar weren’t enough to make her stop. It wasn’t a cry of agony, though she had plenty of that to spare. It was one of horror. She’d managed to endure the leviathan in part because she knew her ordeal wouldn’t last forever, and in part because it was in the service of a greater goal. Both of these supports were now gone. Her father was raping and mutilating her asshole just to make himself cum, and he wasn’t ever going to stop doing things like this. This agonizing anal rape wasn’t a singular trial to overcome, it was the rest of her life. And the only reward for all of her suffering, whether she held out for minutes or decades, would be to get marked as meat and thrown to the wolves.
“Clench,” her father said next, and the word made her sob; he wanted to hurt and humiliate her even more. Even this nightmare wasn’t enough to satisfy him, and so now she would have to further degrade and injure herself for his sake. For a moment, Astaria sincerely considered refusing. It would mean being tortured to death, that she was sure of, but if that was her only possible fate, why put it off? Perhaps she’d get to see Mother afterward… perhaps she’d get to apologize to Ellie…
Astaria clenched, squeezing his huge prick with all its hard scales and sharp ridges as hard as she could. It was the most painful thing she’d ever done, but she kept at it while her father groaned in pleasure behind her. She’d sworn that she was going to make a difference, that she was going to make Ellie’s pain mean something.. If she ever did meet the woman in the afterlife, how could she look her in the eyes if she quit here? Putting a stop to the Paradisium wasn’t just her dream or her duty. It was her penance, and she didn’t have the right to give up just because things had gone wrong. There were thousands of other women suffering out there right now, and she was not going to leave them to their fates like she had Ellie. She was going to save them, every last one of them, or die trying.
The dragon squealed when her father’s hot cum sprayed her savaged bowels, and wanted to curl up into a ball and cry after he pulled his cock free of the gaping wound that had been her asshole. Instead she turned around and knelt, finding his spent dick with her mouth. There were new and disgusting tastes to him, and she ignored them, sucking determinedly on his shaft. She would do whatever she had to to survive. She would bide her time for however long it took, even though it meant being her father’s fleshlight.
And one day, she would find her opportunity.
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