Written by J-Cal

The confusion in Brayton’s eyes was like a smooth spirit gliding down Zarena’s throat. Quickly following his climax – still straddling the massive Kazdruk matriarch with his throbbing erection resting in her cleavage – the contented, blissful expression changed as the human’s eyes began darting around the room; as though looking for the source of what had begun to unsettle him. Within seconds his entire face twisted into a confused visage, and though his hands still held onto Zarena’s gigantic mammaries, the lust that had sparkled in his gaze had vanished.

“Very good, Varayen,” Zarena said to her sorceress who squatted next to the bed behind her.

As she took in the boy’s troubled look and the way his head looked this way and that, guided by a befuddlement he could not identify, Zarena scraped thick ropes of his seed off her face and scooped the precious liquid from her valley, bringing her stained fingers to her mouth, licking them clean. The rich taste of him was even more potent now that it was fresh from the source, and from behind her she could hear Varayen’s satisfied sigh as she consumed what little of his semen that had spattered onto her.

A few paces next to the bed, taking in the proceedings with crossed arms and displeased countenances, Luzella and Wulfshn’s glaring eyes shot daggers at their mother, exchanging them between each other as well.

Zarena reached up with one hand, seizing the boy’s throat around his collar, her grip forcing his chin up and his head back. He gasped for air, his hands instinctively coming up, attempting to claw Zarena’s large hand off of him. Futile as his attempt was, it still made one side of Zarena’s lips rise slightly.

Her ploy to ensnare him with her sensuality and kindness had been enjoyable in more ways than one, and acting sweet and enamoured with him had been fun only because it delighted her to see how her charms so very easily won him over. Either she was more alluring than she gave herself credit for, or Brayton was less bright than he appeared. It seemed he had not learned much after being the captive of both Luzella and Wulfshn. Either that, or Zarena’s daughters had not comprehensibly impressed upon the human just how their clan dominated their slaves.

Zarena had fooled him, mind and body, and at the height of trust and ecstasy, at the moment he orgasmed with the help of her curvaceous body, Varayen’s spell – which she had stealthily woven throughout his corporeal body whilst he was too busy to notice the slight tingling underneath his skin – ignited, bonding Brayton to Zarena in ways he could never escape.

Amused by his struggles and basking in his choked sputters, Zarena lifted her upper body, rising Brayton higher by his throat. Once she had him stretched up and back enough, Zarena’s other hand clutched him by his erection, the size of her hand easily enveloping his full length inside her palm. Holding him thus, Zarena pushed an elbow against the mattress and lifted herself and him out of Wulfshn’s bed, and just as Brayton’s brown eyes started rolling back into his skull, she released him, dropping him from a height of about two meters onto the stone floor, which he struck with a thud. He heaved for breath, coughing and spitting as Zarena’s hoofs brought her over to her corset that lay discarded on the floor so as to give the human a full view of her tits, the cleavage of which still wet with his spunk.

“Now that the matter of ownership is settled,” Zarena began, referring to the human slave as she began fighting her endowment into the tight garb. “I will return home. The farm requires my presence and I have wasted enough time with you two hopeless girls.”

Fists clenched and teeth gritted behind closed lips, Wulfshn and Luzella wisely did not say anything, looking far from impressive where they stood before their mother. Even Luzella, who was as tall as Zarena and far bulkier, looked chastened and pitiful.

Ensuring Zarena could wrap her business up without interruptions, Varayen replaced her sizable, pierced tits into her top and grabbed her staff, the five bones yet maintaining their orbit around the crimson sphere atop it. Eying the pitiful sight of the human struggling to catch his breath, her golden eyes glowed as she prepared for their departure.

Once the bones of the corset were hooked into place and the corset once more seemed to attempt to pour her breasts up and out of it, Zarena fixed her red glare on her eldest daughters.

“We will speak no more about what has happened, but the price of that silence is twofold.” Zarena held up one forefinger. “First, I will keep the human and you will not object. Do you understand?”

At length, only begrudging acquiescence was scarcely more than muttered by the pair of fearsome warriors.

Zarena’s middle finger sprang up to join the first. “Second, you will immediately visit your retribution upon those who brought us all into this mess. Do you understand?”

Again, their reply was barely audible, but this time their pitiful attempt at speech was far from enough.

“Speak up!” Zarena snapped.

Eyes radiating hate and faces contorted into rage, Zarena’s two daughters proclaimed their deference louder. Whether that anger was directed at her or elsewhere was trivial, for Zarena took pleasure in seeing a measure of resolve reassert itself in them. The pathetic downcast, defeated looks they had sported had best be the last time she beheld them.

“Then go. I am not the authority in this Spire but I know Yuldasha agrees with me in this: do not rest until the culprits have been caught. And when they are, ensure they will not easily forget the price of trifling with our clan. You are my daughters; your names carry weight, as does mine. They are names to be respected, names to instill dread in those deserving of our ire. They are names our foes will barely dare say aloud for fear we may materialize in their midst if they give voice to their terror.

“Send word to the farm when it is done. I expect you to show no mercy, give no quarter, give your prey no chance and no hope. Once it is done, you may consider yourselves redeemed in my eyes, but not one moment before. Do you understand?”

“Yes mother,” Luzella and Wulfshn said at once, steel and retribution finally giving weight to their words.

Weight, and promises of righteous revenge.



For a time the only sound around them was the incessant beats of their hoofs on the stone floor. Proceeding with eyes front, teeth gritting and fists clenched, they passed countless soldiers and slaves – all of them wise enough to cast down their gazes and hurriedly move out of their way – without seeing any of them, white hot rage consuming their attention, demanding they put one foot in front of the other.

Whether it was a retreat away from Zarena or an advance ahead towards their retribution was left unsaid, and if asked it was doubtful whether either sister could answer truthfully.

Coming to a torchlit spiral stairwell that would take them further down the Spire, Luzella shouldered her younger sister aside to start her descent first. “I can’t believe you would actually have the audacity to steal one of my slaves.” The Talon Leader’s voice was like lashes. “From my private chamber, no less.”

Despite herself, Wulfshn indulged in an obstinate smirk. “If we want something, we take it. That is our way.”

“Not from me!” Luzella roared, rounded on Wulfshn, jabbing a finger so hard against the latter’s chest she was knocked back even as she came down the stairs. Luzella spoke through gritted teeth, her luminescent eyes burning into Wulfshn. “I’ll forget the human in short enough order, although I will never forgive it. The worst thing you did was let Avelyn out of her cage!”

There were so many things fuming within Luzella at the moment. Losing Brayton, her mother’s sudden appearance, her unspeakable humiliation, and yet she seemed unwilling – or was it that she just did not realize it? – to entertain the notion that what had her most upset was nearly having Avelyn slip through her fingers. Unconsciously, Luzella reached up to stroke the snowflake necklace about her neck.

That the elf had forfeited her escape to aid her master as of yet occupied little space in Luzella’s mind.

Unintimidated by her elder, perhaps unwisely so, Wulfshn crossed her arms under her breasts and raised an eyebrow. Standing two steps behind Luzella, their eyes were level with each other. “Seems to me that if I hadn’t released her, she wouldn’t have been able to save your sorry ass from the trap those two cunts laid for you.”

Wulfshn’s mouth widened in a contemptuous grin. “If I hadn’t wanted the human bad enough to barter with Avelyn for her to keep her pretty lips shut, she wouldn’t have been in a position to raise the alarm that delivered you from your predicament.”

Luzella hated that Avelyn was correct, but it still did not change her feelings on the matter. Her nostrils flared like an enraged bull preparing to charge. “I hope your stay in the kennels was gruesome, sister dear. For your transgressions against me I would see you locked down there for the rest of your miserable life.”

Wulfshn stood her ground, defiant and confident even as she weathered Luzella’s murderous eyes. “Forget the slaves for a moment, why don’t you. There are more contemptable fish to fry. Much as I hate to say it aloud, those two got the best of us both. We owe ourselves to find them and–“

“Oh believe me I am going to find them!” Luzella snapped, cutting Wulfshn off. She turned her head, looking down the torchlit stairwell, her eyes seeing everything she intended to subject Jelthra and Kamri to once she got her hands on them. Stampeding, wild horses moved slower than what did Luzella’s thoughts.

Luzella’s voice grew quieter, but it remained every bit as baleful as when she shouted. “Death would be a release compared to what I have planned for them, you mark my words. I do this for myself, not because mother has told me to. When I find them, my revenge will be wholly for me, not for her.” She spat the final word.

Luzella turned her head towards Wulfshn once again, pleased that her sister’s infuriating grin had vanished. “I don’t care for a second about your desires, ‘sister dear’. If you want to extract vengeance of your own, you’ll have to find Jelthra and Kamri before I do. If I find them first, there’ll be precious little left of them for you to do anything at all with.”

Not waiting for a response, Luzella set off down the stairs again, her heavy frame causing shifts in the air as she pressed onwards.

Standing cross-armed for a moment, looking after her seething sibling, Wulfshn considered her next move. She did not for a second believe she had heard the last about her theft of Brayton from Luzella, but at least Luzella had the sense to focus her anger where it was currently required.

“Fine,” she called after Luzella, resuming her own descent. “It’s a race! The winner will have their vengeance, the loser will have nothing!”

“Then you best get a move on,” Luzella’s growl threatened to shake the stone walls around them. “I intend not to rest until I have my hands around each of their tender, frail necks.”


The swirling portal closed behind them, depositing the trio in a dimly lit square between several large structures. Zarena walked with purpose, her stride uninterrupted by the planar transition to the Kazdruk home world of Tarasmay, her firm grip on a chain connected to her new bull’s neck pulling him along whether he liked it or not.

Varayen emerged last, and with a dismissive, almost indifferent flick of her wrist as she crossed, the whirling energies piercing a hole between dimensions closed without further ceremony, as though the act of bridging two completely separate existences together was but a trifling matter.

Brayton stumbled after Zarena, her long paces and brisk tempo forcing him to jog lest he be pulled off his bare feet by the chain grasping the metal ring of his collar. That his wrists were bound behind his back painfully tight by a leather thong did not help him maintain his balance, and he looked graceless where he bounded after Zarena, each step nearly causing him to topple. Small rocks on the hard dirt ground stung the soles of his feet, dry dust kicked up around his ankles by his footfalls.

Violet streaks of a dried liquid stained the corners of his mouth where – whilst Varayen had prepared the portal from the Spire to the farm – Zarena had forced a glass bottle to his lips and forced the contents down his throat, unheeding of his coughing. The bottle had been conjured as though from thin air by the sorceress, and while Zarena did not really need to keep him informed, she had nonetheless explained the drink – which he would have to consume weekly for a time – would harden his body against the alien environments of Tarasmay. Thus fortified, his body would be able to withstand whatever maladies and morbidities the natural environment might use to weaken him. Or, at worst, kill him. It was a different world; no outsider could survive Tarasmay without Kazdruk potions.

Unlike at the Spire, the local time in Tarasmay was in the dead of night, an overcast sky obscuring stars and moons that might otherwise lend a gossamer glow to the surroundings. They were in the middle of Zarena’s compound, however, so there were dozens of glowing globes of various sizes mounted in brackets along the walls of the structures which provided enough light for them to navigate comfortably.

Zarena headed for one of the longest structures to the right of where the portal had deposited them, pulling the human along.

“I wish to retire for the night. We will deposit our new bull in his temporary pen but after that I am off to bed. We will have to get him processed in the morning.”

“Naturally.” Varayen concurred, striding after the much larger Kazdruk with practiced steps that ensured she never fell behind. “Branding and ringing, then?”

“Yes,” nodded Zarena. “Go wake Vil and have her bring the gear. I don’t wish for this to take any longer than it must. This ordeal with my eldest has exhausted me. All of us needs to rest for the remainder of the night if we are to put in a good day’s labour come morning.”

“Then I will return once I have fetched Vilxani.” Varayen started turning away from the long structure they were headed towards. Veering left, she strode with her back straight towards the smaller yet much taller structure crowning the open square of dirt between the many buildings, an increasing reddish glow emanating from the top of her staff casting a large, nefarious circle of bloody light around her as she cut across the darkest section in the middle of the open grounds.

Pulling the human along with no more effort than she needed to hold the chain in a comfortable grip, unheeding that her gait nearly threw him off balance with every step, Zarena marched towards one of the big sets of double doors flanked by glowing globes along the side of the white stone barn. It was the largest structure by far on her farm, housing nearly all of her livestock, but as her intended stall for her new bull in one of the smaller barns currently served as storage given that she hadn’t owned a bull for many years, the human would have to stay his first night in this building until they could clean out his stall in the morning.

She put her free hand on one of the double doors as she came up to it, and despite the weight of them, the hinges were superb and oiled weekly, meaning she did not have to use much force to push it open. It swung silently inward, but before she crossed the threshold, she turned to fix her gold eyes down at the human, her long, bone earrings swaying with the motion.

The top of his head barely reached up to the bottom slopes of her heavy tits, and while everything about him was lesser than other bulls she had owned, there was no denying the quality of his product. Taking him had been a whim, however, she had to acknowledge that, more about punishing her disappointing daughters than it was about him. However, she believed she had made the right decision, and the more she considered it, the more exciting the prospect of owning a bull again became to her. It was a potential to exponentially increase income again.

None of that growing excitement showed on her face, however, as she projected only a neutral demeanour when she looked down on him. The fear in his brown eyes was all too evident, and his rapid breathing was likely not all due to having to run to keep up with her strides. She had never kept a human before, so she was intrigued by how he would fare in his new life. Ever since the invasion of his home world had begun and she had started leisurely researching the denizens as they were conquered and enslaved, she had entertained the idea of a human bull. However, as it would likely require extensive training and some trial and error to get a human to the level she would require, she had never done more than merely muse upon the possibilities.

Now she had the chance to bring her ideas to life, and if they didn’t work, well, then nothing but the time spent would be lost.

“You be absolutely silent now, bull,” she said in a low tone. None of the sultry affection she had used on him to allow Varayen’s spell to take him honeyed her tone when she spoke to him now. “My other livestock are asleep and they, like you will come to learn, need their rest. Do not test me on this for I promise you will not like my disciplining. This goes for anything I tell you, do you understand?”

Swallowing, eyes producing tears of pure terror, Brayton nodded dumbly.

Satisfied, Zarena turned around and stepped into the barn with Brayton in tow.

The wide space within the barn was dark, kept so as to allow the livestock to rest. There were several brackets for torches and lamps as well as glow spheres mounted on walls and pillars all along the building, but during the night all lighting was extinguished. The sliver of illumination streaking across the dirt floor from the spheres outside the entrance only brightened the immediate area beyond the doors, but Zarena needed no light source to find her way in any of the buildings in her compound.

She stepped in, past the first pens flanking the entrance and turned left, the steps of her hard hoofs muted on the soft surface. She had gathered up some of the chain to keep the leash tighter so as to prevent the links rattling, and to her satisfaction the human managed to jog after her without nearly toppling all the time.

As they walked, Zarena took a moment to relish the scents inside the barn. She had not been away for long, but she discovered she actually had been in the Spire for long enough to elicit some manner of yearning to get back home. The pleasant, familiar smells of the dirt, the sweat and the submission within the barn was enough to allow her a silent, contented sigh.

In her prime, she had done enough fighting and conquering for the Kazdruk endeavour to dominate everything before them. When the time was right, when she felt she had done her duty and then some, when she got the chance to retire with honour, she had taken it, and in the some sixteen years since her last battle she rarely left her farm. She had travelled enough in her youth, she argued, and as things were, she was far happier at home than anywhere else.

That Varayen had chosen to accompany her had been a surprise, but a very welcome one. The two of them had shed more than just blood together in their profession, had saved each other’s lives and shared a bond those who had never tasted war would never understand. To have Varayen live at the farm and be an active worker in it was Zarena’s honour.

A couple of minutes of walking through the straight path between the lines upon lines of pens – from which soft snores and sleepy moans from time to time graced her ears – Zarena and Brayton came upon a simple wooden door. It was a reserve pen usually only used if any of her livestock needed to be separated from the herd for whatever reason, but tonight it would serve as the new bull’s temporary quarters. Opening the door revealed a small room already dimly lit with soft, very dark brown leather-like squares covering the opposite side of it. Every inch of the four walls beyond, as well as the ceiling, was likewise covered by the dark brown pillows, each square nearly a meter by a meter in width and height.

Pivoting at the end of the opened door, Zarena pulled Brayton inside and gave the door a shove. It slid into its frame with a soft click.

“This room is sound-proofed so there is no need to be silent in here, however you are not to speak unless I ask you a question.”

Whether it was wisdom that had identified no question being asked, or simply dread keeping his quivering lips closed was irrelevant. He remained silent. For a moment she wondered what he might be feeling, not only being a captive but now removed from the universe in which he had been born. She did not wonder about such trivial things for long. She reached up with a finger on her free hand and tapped the glass sphere standing on a holder affixed to the wall next to the door. At the tap of her nail, the globe’s faint light increased, bathing the windowless room in brilliance as though it was the middle of the day.

She heard the bull’s breathing quicken now that he could properly see in the room.

In the middle of the square chamber – exactly five by five meters – was a wooden rack standing on four steel legs. The rack was at a slight incline, the highest point about at the height of Zarena’s shoulders, and the lowest point close to the dirt ground. It was about three meters in length and a meter and a half wide, sturdy and spacious, suitable for most any species.

Chains hung from the ceiling, a small metal cage occupied the innermost right corner, and a trio of cabinets took up all of the space on the left-hand wall.

Unconcerned about the bull’s mounting anxiety, Zarena let go of the chain attached to his collar, which dropped onto the ground with a series of rustling clanks. With his hands bound behind his back he would not be able to open the door, and even if he managed to run, well, he would learn just what made the lusty trust he had felt towards Zarena such a powerful catalyst for Varayen’s spell. He would have to learn that eventually, but for now Zarena was tired and certainly in no mood for any antics from her new possession.

Zarena walked over to the rack and pushed a thin lever close to its bottom left. Thus unlatched, she pushed it nearly all the way to the far wall on its wheels that were nigh invisible beneath the thicker steel legs. Pulling the lever back locked the wheels again. With the rack out of the way of the chamber’s centre, Zarena reached up to some of the chains hanging from the padded ceiling and unhooked one end from the peg, allowing the full length of the chain to dangle down. Walking over to one of the cabinets – ignoring the bull’s frightened whimpers and the way he so obviously tried to undo the leather strip binding his wrists – Zarena opened a door and retrieved a pair of suitably sized shackles.

With the restraints in hand, she walked over to him, her sheer size looming over him like a menacing mountain. Unheeding of his frail struggles, she turned him around and replaced the leather thong with the shackles, restraining his wrists on his front. Then, holding him by the short chain linking the manacles, pulled him into the centre of the room. Hoisting his arms up, she attached the metal hook on the bottom of the chains hanging down from the ceiling to the chain of his bindings, then pulled the opposite end of the chains above to tighten the slack, raising his hands high above his head and forcing him to balance on his toes. Satisfied, she secured the other end of the chain to another peg in the ceiling, ensuring there was no slack between the links.

Leaving him to hang there naked and helpless as he whimpered and clenched his fists against the painful bite of the iron shackles scraping on his skin, Zarena walked over to one of the other cabinets and opened both doors, seeing what she would shortly need lying across one of the shelves just where she had left it. She picked it up and rested it on the dirt ground by its wide circular end, closing the cabinet doors after.

Walking over to the human, she positioned herself in front of him. Even on the tips of his toes the top of his head was barely level with her nipples confined within the constricting corset. She set her eyes on him as she crossed her arms.

“From the moment I seized you from my daughters you became my bull. You are my property, and that is all that you are now. That is what you will remain unless you prove worthless. What this entails you will start to learn tomorrow morning. For now, I will simply process you and go to sleep.”

“What is process–“

The back of Zarena’s hand across his face silenced him, and reminded him no question had been asked. He yelped in pain, the force of the blow enough that he swung sideways in his chains. It took him a couple of feeble attempts of scraping his toes along the ground to stop his body swinging.

“Bulls do not speak unless given permission.” She chopped the words for emphasis, each syllable laden with threat.

“Like all my livestock you will have to work hard, and believe me when I say you will work hard regardless of your feelings on the matter. How productive you are determines how you are treated. Your life prior to coming to this farm is void and null. Were I you I would forget about that life, forget about your home world, for they matter nothing from now on. Do you understand?”

Zarena knew he nodded because he knew he was supposed to, not because he truly appreciated what she was telling him. The side of his head showed a dark red blemish where she had struck him. A little harder and she would have drawn blood. A little harder still and she would have shattered his skull.

When they heard the door open behind them, Zarena placed her hands on her wide, muscular thighs and turned around. “There you are.”

Closing the door behind her with an elbow as both her hands were occupied, a girl stepped into the room. She was short – half a head shorter than Brayton, in fact – but there was reminiscence in her complexion, not to mention the face and the gorgeous green eyes with slit pupils.

“Welcome home again, mother,” Vil, standing with her back straight before Zarena. “Varayen told me to come here.”

The top of her head in which two slightly curving horns grew from the forehead was about level with the bottom curve of Zarena’s breasts. In fact, it looked like she could stand straight underneath Zarena’s tits – like they were an awning – and only brush the tips of her horns against them.

She had long, silken dark hair, bangs hanging over a headband brushing her collarbone, the tresses on her back gathered up into two long braids that went past her shapely rump. Apart from the dark boots she barely wore anything, a simple top containing a generous bust with a deep cleavage and panties with thin strips hugging her hips. In terms of ornamentation, she had a simple leather necklace with a metal ring around her slender neck and a thin black choker around her throat, big hoop earrings in her ears, and even through her top it was evident she had rings in her nipples.

Upon her left forearm was tattooed the same jagged design as was on Zarena’s upper left arm – same as was on Luzella and Wulfshn’s bodies. Other markings graced her shoulders, part of a larger design covering her upper back.

She had full lips, a narrow waist, thick thighs and long legs with a slender tail swaying behind her. She was obviously fit, but her physique was less bulky those of her mother and elder sisters. She possessed a feminine grace the others did not, although they were all beautiful in their way.

She had long, pointy ears, however unlike Zarena’s – and her sisters’ for that matter – hers drooped down, and when viewed together with her slender, short horns, they gave her a somewhat bovine appearance that seemed appropriate for working a farm.

And yet it was not the ears that was the biggest difference between Vilxani and her mother and siblings. For where the others’ long legs ended in sturdy, dark hoofs, Vil’s ended in feet.


As she approached, one hand holding a black ball-gag by one of its straps and the other an empty pail, Zarena did not think it looked like Vil had just been awoken. Had she been working this late?

“Varayen didn’t say why I was to come–“ Vil’s attractive voice faded when her green eyes landed on the human stretched up in the middle of the room. As realization settled, Vil’s pupils widened with excitement, her entire face seeming to indulge in a smiling contest with her luscious lips. “A new bull!”

“Yes, but don’t get too excited now.” Zarena had to stifle a smile at her youngest daughter’s enthusiasm. “I intend only to have him processed tonight before we go to bed. We will start breaking him in tomorrow.”

“Can I help?” Vil’s eager question left her lips even before Zarena started speaking.

“Of course. In fact, I was hoping you would take charge of his training. You remember helping me with our last bull, and I think you are ready to take on the responsibilities by yourself. Although I will be supervising for the first period.”

She looked at the bull with eyes so wide it seemed they might fall out of her head. Again Zarena had to fight back a chuckle at seeing the obvious lust radiating from them.

“What is he?” Vil’s expression turned quizzical as she looked up at her mother.

They were speaking about him as though he was not there with them, hanging by his wrists, neither of them really concerned about his pleading, aching expression.

“A human. Remember reading about them?”

Vil looked at him again, lips pursing, face twisting as she tried to recall. She was nearly done with her second decade of life, and yet she still had so many borderline adolescent qualities about her.

“I guess?” she said after some consideration. “He is really small!”

“Yes his stature is among the smallest of our stock, certainly he is the tiniest bull we have ever owned, but I did not take him for his size. His quality has potential.”

Vil grinned up at her mom. “Can I try him?”

“Not tonight, dear. He has been rather drained in more ways than one before I took him here so he needs to rest. However, we are going to get him ringed tonight and I wish that you do it this time.”

Needing no other encouragement, beaming like the suns with pleasure, Vil dropped the pail where she stood – it clanked as it settled on the ground – and rushed over behind the bull. Without warning and with extreme skill, she shoved the gag in his mouth and secured it around his head. His feeble attempts to stop her only granted him a warning look from Zarena.

Nearly skipping with joy over to the cabinets, Zarena’s lightly clad youngest daughter began looking for a ring, her excitement translating to more vigorous swings of her long tail. Wanting to find the right size right away, she kept looking over her shoulder at the bull as she attempted to gauge how large the ring had to be.

Briefly, Zarena wondered if Vil would not grow any larger than what she was now. She was certainly a twig compared to her older sisters, but then again Vil was only their half-sister. Her father had been a prisoner Zarena had taken her fun with in one of the last years of her warrior’s life, and while it hadn’t been the intension, Vilxani had been the result.

As Vil rummaged around trying to find the correct ring in a shelf that had been unused for many years, the door to the sound-proofed room opened once more. Varayen gracefully admitted herself, closing the door with a gesture of magic.

Zarena merely indicated the steel rod she had retrieved earlier, standing on the wide ring at the end of the handle. The sorceress nodded and, after picking it up, began magically heating the circular design it had been standing on.

“This one, I think.” Vil held up two semicircles of very thin black metal. When she pushed them against each other, they formed a perfect ring.

“I think you are right,” Zarena nodded, judging her daughter’s estimation to be correct. “Go on.”

Grinning like a child, Vil bounded over to the bull and kneeled in front of him. With one half in each hand, she worked it so that the gap in the ring encircled both his limp cock and his balls. It was a small ring, barely large enough to get everything inside, but it fit. Once his manhood was enclosed by the slender black metal and the tips of the two halves touched, Vil spoke a single magic word that was pre-keyed to the ring. At the word’s utterance, the metal bonded on both ends, forming a perfect black ring that showed no signs of seams anywhere.

“Very good, Vil. Please stand back.”

Vil didn’t say anything but watched her handiwork with obvious satisfaction. Zarena, on the other hand, looked at Brayton’s face, allowing herself a half smile at seeing his confusion when his cock suddenly began growing. In short order his erection was complete, hard, throbbing, veins pulsing along its side. He would learn about the ring’s true nature without Zarena having to spell it out for him. Next to her, it seemed Vil had trouble keeping her breath from turning to panting at seeing his hardness.

Almost immediately after the bull’s cock had grown to full strength, Varayen stepped up next to Zarena, holding the handle of the foot-long rod up to her. As Zarena took it, she could hear Vil giggle at her side.

As she took the iron, Zarena noticed the gagged bull was no longer interested in his sudden erection as his fearful eyes looked at what Zarena held.

The opposite end of the rod from where Zarena held it was white hot, and she took some pleasure holding it up, pointing the circular design towards him. The mirrored design in the circle was the same as on the pendant hanging from Zarena’s choker, and she knew Brayton would have seen the same symbol in Luzella and Wulfshn’s quarters. It was their family crest, and all their livestock were branded with it to prove who owned them.

“Remember what I told you, bull.” She stepped closer and thrust the searing end of the branding iron against his right chest, licking her lips at his delicious, muffled scream. “You belong to me.”


Jelthra’s body was pressed flat against the cold brick wall – the size of her chest not helping in that respect in the slightest – as she held her breath, anxious fingertips digging into the stone. Out in the well-lit corridor, a quad of warriors passed the corner she feebly hid behind, mercifully not looking in her direction as they went. It was the second time this particular group had come close to spotting her, and had they been less lax in their duties they definitely would have seen her this time.

Silently bounding away from the four muscular brutes passing their patrol with idle chatter in their gruff voices, the sorceress made another attempt for the stairwell. She was so close to getting out, but an hour ago she had been even closer. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Spire was on alert and actively looking for her, resulting in an upwards retreat four stories as the Kazdruk efforts kept confounding her. It was bitterly aggravating to be forced further up the Spire when she was trying to get down, but she had no choice but to organically react to her surroundings if she was to evade capture.

She had gotten down two levels again, but the farther she descended it became increasingly obvious she would not be able to make it out of the Spire anywhere at ground level. Guards, both stationary and patrolling, were posted at all exits – even down into the dungeons and sewers – so while Jelthra was still attempting to get down, she was now merely attempting to get down far enough that she might be able to get out through a window or something else suitable.

Dashing for the stairwell now that hostile eyes were not watching it, moving as quietly as she was able to without sacrificing momentum, the sorceress crossed the illuminated hallway and into the darkened stairs, her breathing hard but hushed.

An unhelpful torch mounted on the wall next to the stairwell’s exit glared at her, bathed her in light, so there was no point in flattening herself against the brick wall as she carefully peeked out into the corridor. To the left, she caught the rear of a female Kazdruk warrior with a male elf servant rounding a corner further down the line of intersections and closed doorways. To the right, about a dozen paces or so, was an open archway leading to a balcony on the outside.

Heart racing, running out of options – for she knew it was only a matter of time until they caught her – Jelthra decided the balcony was her best bet to getting outside. Once there, she would somehow have to make it down to the ground, preferring not to have to use magic to do so as it would draw those who were looking for it to her position, but she was determined to do it if it proved necessary. After what she and Kamri had wrought there was no choice but to escape.

For a brief moment she spared Kamri a thought, wondered where she was and if she had gotten away already. Nothing she had seen or heard indicated to Jelthra that her compatriot had been discovered, but there was no way to be sure. She had been hurting pretty bad when they had split up to allow themselves better chances at staying out of sight, and Jelthra hoped the pain of losing an arm and then having the dubious Aeltha graft a new one onto her would not hamper her attempt at escape. Once the both of them left the Spire, they would reunite on the outside.

Provided they got that far.

Looking one last time to the left to make sure the coast remained clear, Jelthra exited the stairwell and ran towards the balcony, her tits jostling in concert with the chains holding up her top. Once outside she stepped sideways out of the threshold of the door to get out of sight from the corridor as she appraised her surroundings.

The dark stone balcony wasn’t very large, about ten paces in either direction, with thick, square stone pillars supporting the balcony above her. There was no ornamentation or furniture to see, just an empty platform surveying the rain-drenched landscape recently cast into blackness with the setting of the sun. Seeing it was dark outside caused the sorceress to curse inwardly. This attempted escape from the Spire had taken far, far longer than what they had hoped. She could not see any patrols outside, but she knew there had to be several. She simply had to deal with them when she got that far.

Appreciating that she did not have any more time to waste, Jelthra walked over to the lip of the balcony and peered down. It was too dark to see just how long of a drop it was, but Jelthra estimated she was still too high up to risk simply hanging off the edge and letting herself fall down. Understanding there was no other choice, the sorceress prepared a spell that would cushion her fall.

A bright light bloomed into being in her hand, swirling and pulsing like a tuft of cloud. She held her hand out over the edge and dropped the little ball of cottony luminescence. Despite its airy, almost ethereal appearance, the sphere fell like a lead ball, striking the ground below within seconds. Once it struck, the spell ignited like a smoke bomb, carpeting a three-meter diameter in magical cloud.

Knowing she had but to land somewhere within that glowing magical cotton to have the spell cushion her fall, Jelthra double-checked that she was standing at the same place she had been when she dropped the spell straight down, and took a step forward, allowing gravity to take her the rest of the way to freedo–

She jerked back, painfully, not comprehending what in the world was going on and why she had lost the ability to breathe. On raw instinct her arms came up to her throat to combat whatever it was prevented her from sucking in air, and only when her fingers made contact with what constricted her did she understand that it was a large hand clamping down on her.

“Got you, cunt.”

Jelthra’s blood turned to ice. She didn’t need to be able to see the person behind her to know who it was. The bloodcurdling voice – the sheer, unadulterated hate that emanated from it – was more than enough.

Suffocating, feebly attempting to claw the hand off her throat, her mind in too much turmoil to even attempt magic, Jelthra was held off the ground by that one arm before she was violently tossed into the stone wall next to the doorway. What little air remained in her was knocked right out when the full length of her collided with the unyielding barrier, and she collapsed in a heap on the rain-moist floor as she gasped and coughed.

“Thought you’d get away from me, did you? You cannot imagine how fucked you are right now.”

The words were like barbed arrows in Jelthra’s soul. Even though she was barely in control of her body at this moment, she was lucid enough to understand how dire her situation was.

Heaving for air, her watery eyes looked at the hoofs standing in front of her. How was she back? It should not be possible. More over, how had Luzella discovered her?

Luzella squatted down in front of the sorceress, her luminescent eyes a confusing mix of loathing and… something else.

“If I wasn’t so utterly enraged with you I’d almost be tempted to congratulate you on your little ploy,” Luzella growled through gritted teeth. “You nearly got away with it.”

Jelthra could not fathom how Luzella had escaped the dimension she and Kamri had sent her to. It should not be possible for anyone in the tower to know what had happened, much less know how to undo it. Her swimming vision had trouble keeping Luzella’s displeased features in focus, but she didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing. Luzella’s voice alone was enough of an indication as to how much she appreciated what had been done to her, and Jelthra’s stomach roiled with the implications of her current predicament.

“But now…” The Talon Leader’s voice was a low rumble, like a growling about to rip its prey apart. Luzella grabbed Jelthra by the throat once again and forced her up onto her knees. “Now I promise you, cunt, that you will pay.”

Luzella leaned in real close, put her lips right next to Jelthra’s ear. “You will pay.”

The slow enunciation and hushed tone sent shards of ice down the sorceress’ spine, and before she knew it, Luzella had heaved her onto her stomach with her head hanging off the edge of the balcony. Below, the magical mattress still lazily churned, awaiting her to drop down onto it.

Behind her were sounds she knew all too well, sounds that did not bode well for her at all, the sounds of Luzella removing her clothing.

“I am going to fuck you to death.” The statement was accompanied by the sounds of Luzella’s loincloth being tossed to the ground. “It is far better than you deserve, but it will be a fitting way for you to go.” Luzella repositioned so that she was behind Jelthra, using a strong hand to jerk Jelthra’s upper body up by a hip until she was standing on her knees. Already the sorceress could feel the Kazdruk’s thick, hardening member grace up her thigh as it filled with blood. On a deep level within her where some reason still remained, Jelthra found it fascinating that Luzella was able to get an erection even despite her obvious wrath.

One hand seized Jelthra’s hair painfully, pulling her head up, the other tugged the sorceress’ panties aside.

“Any last words, whore?”

Swallowing to wet her throat, pain around her throat and that of her hair being violently pulled lancing through her, Jelthra knew she had to stall for time until she could gather her thoughts enough to attempt a spell. Anything, even an amateurish blast of energy would suffice as long as it got Luzella’s hands off her for a second. Eventually she managed to speak. “I–“

Before she could say anything else her voice was cut by the horrible sensation of Luzella’s equestrian cock penetrating her pussy, the Kazdruk’s excessive amounts of pre-cum the only lubrication attempting to make the intrusion easier on Jelthra. As soon as the initial shock of the violent assault had worn off, Jelthra screamed – a gut-wrenching mixture of agony, frustration and fear – her insides pulled nearly all the way up to the base of Luzella’s throbbing limb. It was like having the log of a tree stuck inside her, and it conjured unpleasant memories of the last time Luzella had mounted her.

As her lungs emptied of air with her wail, Luzella clamped down on her throat – with both hands this time – squeezing her tight as she began moving her hips back and forth, strangling Jelthra whilst beginning to rape her.

“I hope you think it was worth it,” Luzella groaned, menace still all but dripping from her tone. “I hope you think long and hard on whether it was worth it.”

Arms flailing next to her, her body held in place by Luzella’s iron grip, fighting to breathe, Jelthra violently rocked back and forth with every deep thrust into her belly, Luzella’s full, big balls like a pendulum slapping against her thighs as the big brute ravaged her.

Eyes watering and spittle vacating her mouth, Jelthra’s eyes started rolling back into her skull, her pained whimpers getting less and less audible with every forceful thrust into her, black spots beginning to cloud her watery vision.

When she was on the precipice of blacking out, Luzella released her grip on her throat, though did not let go. Jelthra drew a long, desperate breath, filling her lungs with the sweet, thick air. The swelling of her chest only gave her more air with which to scream in pain once more, and when she did Luzella clamped her windpipe shut once again.

“Fuck… Tight little whore…” Luzella moaned softly, rocking steadily in and out of the small human. She let her breathe again, then squeezed once more. “I said I’d fuck you to death but I did not say I would make it quick.”

There was a hint of glee highlighting Luzella’s words, though each one was spoken with absolute loathing.

Jelthra was barely able to string two thoughts together as Luzella kept strangling her through the powerful thrusting, probing as deep into her as it was possible to go whilst the fat balls kept slapping her thighs. She was dimly aware of the spell she had case down to the ground winking out of existence, of drool, tears and rain drenching her face, of a potent fear of death sinking its icy fingers into her as surely as Luzella’s fingers prevented her from drawing breath.

Time and time again whilst the huge Kazdruk bucked deep into her Jelthra saw black spots, and time and time again was she allowed to draw breath only right at the cusp of oblivion, prolonging her suffering and heightening Luzella’s pleasure.

Unannounced but for the loud heralding groan, Luzella emptied her balls deep inside Jelthra, the added volume of her rapist’s thick, sticky seed making the shaft embedded inside her feel even bigger, even more painful, swelling her belly. When Luzella withdrew her still rock-hard erection and her cum came cascading out of Jelthra like an obscene waterfall, Jelthra barely noticed that Luzella had pulled out at first, as she was once more knocking on death’s door.

Allowed to gulp for breath, the big hands strangled her yet again as Luzella’s cum-coated cock thrust into Jelthra’s ass, giving her fresh pain with which to waste her precious air in long screams.

Luzella_Jelthra Chapter_36_Lucien

As if the first climax had burst her restraints, Luzella came again after only a dozen or so thrusts inside the sorceress’ ass, all the while refusing to let the struggling, weakening human breathe. The force of the second orgasm rocked them both, the Kazdruk’s mighty pulse pushing her semen all the way through Jelthra until an eruption of sticky seed spewed out of her mouth.

Choking from the inside and out, vomiting salty, warm semen and being held on the precipice of a death that to Jelthra was more and more welcome the longer Luzella tormented her, she lost all sense of time and where she was – of who she was – as the strong Talon Leader kept ravaging her, raping her, kept filling her holes with what seemed ungodly amounts of hot cum, until her entire body was drenched inside and out, until the floor beneath her was covered and rivers of seed mixed with rainwater to drop off the edge of the balcony.

Luzella took her time, expertly keeping Jelthra from passing out but controlling every single, precious short gulp of air the sorceress was allowed to take. Not once did the rough thrusts relent, nor did Luzella ease off or change her pace. The hard penetrations were hard, deep, merciless, stabbing Jelthra from opening to core, and every time Luzella came Jelthra felt herself bloat with the excessive amounts of cum the Kazdruk was capable of producing.

Luzella took no breaks, did not slow down, kept her strong hands around Jelthra’s neck. When she tired of one hole, or if it started feeling too loose for her taste, Luzella switched holes, giving the other one a fresh few rounds of merciless pounding and filling. Luzella’s grunts were lust laced with hate, and even though her mind was slipping Jelthra could not help but notice the low, ominous chuckles that escaped the Talon Leader’s throat every time she squeezed her throat just a little harder.

Time ceased to have meaning. It could have been hours.

Changing holes for the umpteenth time, putting it back in Jelthra’s already capitulated pussy, Luzella reestablished her iron grip on the sorceress’ red throat once she had been allowed to take another, desperate breath.

“Now, you die.” She said, the faint lust that had laced her words earlier now completely gone, as if the act of even fucking Jelthra was now abhorrent to her.

Pushing deep and hard into Jelthra, who was barely conscious as it was, her eyes rolled into her head once again as darkness overtook her, and that little part of her, deep in her core that still managed to think, understood that this time the darkness would be permanent.

As she slipped into unconsciousness whilst Luzella orgasmed yet again inside of her, filling her with even more cream, she heard another’s voice.

It was distant, almost an echo barely discernible, neither male nor female.

“Luzella, a word?”

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