The revenge.
Not her revenge. His. He had ordered it. He had sent Edda. He had killed the man who had killed her mother. He had done it without being asked. Without being told. He had done it because— because she was his. Because the man who had killed her mother had been a threat. Because the man who had promised her as a concubine had been a claim on his property.
She trembled.
Her body shook. Her emerald hair swung. Her hands — on his thighs — gripped. Her nails dug into the muscle.
She sucked.
Harder. The cock. She turned her head. Her mouth found the shaft. She licked. She kissed. She took the head — the swollen, dark head — into her mouth. She sucked. Hard. Deep. The tears fell. From her green eyes. Down her cheeks. Onto the shaft. Onto the head. The salt of her tears on the skin of his cock.
"Hnnn..." she moaned. The sound was muffled. The cock in her mouth. The vibration of her grief and her gratitude and her surrender traveling through the shaft.
She sucked harder.
The competition. She felt it. The other women. Celia on his balls. Gia on the other ball. Ada’s breast in his mouth. Nara and Fatima — their hands. On his body. His chest. His stomach. His thighs. Their hands rubbing. Stroking. Their mouths — kissing. His neck. His shoulders. His ribs.
Nara’s hand went to his back.
Her fingers traced the muscles. The ridges. The V of the hips. She kissed his spine. Her lips on the bone. Her tongue traced the ridge.
Fatima’s hand went to his thigh.
Her thick fingers on the muscle. She squeezed. Her hand traveled — up, toward the groin, toward the base of the cock. She stroked. The inner thigh. The sensitive skin.
Vivian felt it.
The competition. The other women. Their hands. Their mouths. Their bodies. She sucked harder. She took more. The cock went deeper. Into her throat. She gagged. Her eyes rolled. She did not stop.
"My king..." she moaned around the cock. The words muffled. Broken. "Hnnn... m-my... k-king..."
~~ The Throne — Debauchery
Celia moved.
From the balls. She stood. Her naked body — lean, muscled — moved. She climbed. Onto the throne. Onto Raven’s lap. She straddled him. Her legs — the slim, strong legs of a sabre fighter — on either side of his hips. Her pussy — bare, shaved, the lips swollen — against his cock.
Not her pussy. Her anal.
She positioned. Her hand went behind her. She grabbed his cock. She aimed. The head — wet, slick, covered in Vivian’s saliva — against her anal. The ring. The tight, puckered opening.
She dropped.
PAAH—
"AAAH—!!"
Celia screamed. Her back arched. Her small breasts pointed. Her nipples stiff. Her mouth open. Her tongue out. The cock — twelve inches, thick — went into her anal. Not gently. Not slowly. She dropped. Her weight drove her down. The cock went in. Inch by inch. The ring stretched. The muscles resisted. The cock pushed through.
"Hahh... f-fuck... it is... so... big..." she gasped. Her voice was high. The voice of a woman whose anal is being filled. "HAAH—!! My... my king... you are... tearing me... AAANGH—!!"
She bounced.
Her hips moved. Up. Down. Her anal gripped the cock. The friction — tight, dry, the ring clenching — sent sparks through her body. Her hands went to his shoulders. She gripped. She used the leverage. She lifted. She dropped.
PAH PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!!"
The sound — the slapping, the screaming — filled the throne room. The marble walls echoed. The green banners shook. The stone throne — connected to his mana — glowed. The gold veins pulsing. The rhythm matching the thrusts.
Gia moved.
Not to be outdone. The petite girl. She climbed onto the throne. Behind Celia. Her small body pressed against Celia’s back. Her hands went around. To Celia’s breasts. She groped. Her small hands on the small mounds. She pinched the nipples.
"Hahh... Celia... your ass looks so good... taking his cock..." Gia whispered. Her voice was young. High. The voice of a girl who is turned on and who does not hide it.
"Nnngh... G-Gia... shut... up..." Celia moaned. Her hips still bouncing. PAH PAH PAH— "AAANGH—!! H-He is... so deep... in my... ass..."
Gia’s hand went down.
Between Celia’s legs. To her pussy. Her fingers found the lips. She spread. She inserted. Two fingers. Into Celia’s pussy. The walls — wet, the juice flowing — gripped her fingers.
"AAAH—!! G-Gia—!! F-Fingers—!! Not—!! AAANGH—!!"
PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH—
Celia bounced harder. The double stimulation — the cock in her anal, the fingers in her pussy — drove her. Her body moved faster. Her hips slammed. The sound was louder.
PAAH PAAH PAAAH—
"AAAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!! HAAAAANGHH—!!"
Fatima moved.
To the front. Her thick body. Her large breasts. She knelt. Before the throne. Before Raven. Before Celia’s bouncing body. Her mouth went to Raven’s balls. The heavy sack. She sucked. One. Then the other. Her mouth was warm. Wet. Full. The lips — thick, the kind of lips that were made for sucking — sealed around each orb.
"Hmm..." she moaned. The sound was deep. From her belly. The vibration traveled through the sack. Through the shaft. Into Celia’s anal.
Nara moved.
To the side. Her tall body. Her athletic frame. She knelt beside the throne. Her mouth went to Raven’s chest. His pectoral. She licked. Her tongue traced the muscle. She found his nipple. She sucked. Her lips sealed around the peak. Her teeth grazed.
Edda watched.
Her yellow eyes — slitted — observed. The dragon woman. The grandmother. The warrior. Her scaled body was still. Her arms crossed beneath her bare breasts. Her nipple — the one that had been in Raven’s mouth — was wet. Slick with his saliva.
She smiled.
The smile was thin. The smile of a woman who has trained these girls and who is watching them perform and who is pleased.
She moved.
Her hand went to her own breast. The other one. She squeezed. She lifted. She brought it to his mouth again. The other nipple. The one that was dry.
Raven sucked.
His mouth found the nipple. His tongue worked. His teeth grazed. He sucked. The scale. The skin. The flesh.
"Ahhh... hahh..." Edda moaned. The fog from her mouth — the dragon’s breath, the steam — hung in the air. White. Dense. The heat of her body against his face. "My king... you suck... so well... hahh..."
The throne room was filled.
With the sounds. The PAH PAH PAH— of Celia bouncing on his cock. The SCHLUK SCHLUK— of Gia’s fingers in Celia’s pussy. The wet, sucking sounds of Fatima on his balls. The soft, licking sounds of Nara on his chest. The deep, resonant moans of Edda.
"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!! HAAAAANGHH—!! NNGHH—!! HIEKKK—!! AAAANGHH—!! HNNNGHH—!!"
The moans. The cries. The screams. The broken words. The muffled sounds. The fog. The heat. The smell.
The smell — of sex. Of sweat. Of juice. Of mana. Of dragon. Of woman. Of man. The pheromones — the ambient, constant output of a being who was not human — filled the room. The women breathed it. Their bodies responded. Their pussies dripped. Their anals clenched. Their nipples stiffened. Their minds fogged.
Vivian sucked.
Still. On the head. She had not stopped. She could not stop. The competition — the other women, their bodies, their mouths, their hands — drove her. She sucked. She licked. She kissed. She took the head into her throat. She gagged. She did not stop.
"Hnnn... m-my king... hahh... p-please... I... I want... your... seed... hnnn..." she moaned. The words broken. Muffled. The cock in her mouth distorting them.
Suddenly, a loud voice from the woman stopped everything happening in the hall, and her yell made Raven flinch for a second.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE!!"