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How long had you been here?

How long?

You don't know.

Your memories fail you, reaching for them a fruitless endeavor. Yet, now and

then in your restless sleep you see snippets of what may have been your prior life.

You were once a well-known and respected daemon hunter. The name of your

previous identity remains a mystery to you.

At one point you'd had everything you wanted. Women, booze, public

adoration. All of it. Nothing was beyond your reach. You had a little villa in the

country near a village, and a separate estate in a larger town. You forget the name of

where, and when, but you can sometimes almost

taste your former life.

But what you can taste more of now is the sweaty sac in your mouth. Fingers

snap, your eyes which had been glazed for some time now suddenly refocus. Words,

deep and commanding, snap you out of your reminiscing to bring you back to the

here and now.

"You're losing track of it, again." Says the voice, mocking, playful, callous... The

big hell-brute currently using your face as a cushion for his balls tsks at your laziness.

He rolls his hips forward and cuts off your air entirely, smothering you in onyx flesh.

"I didn't say you could stop sucking, did I? This is why we have to do this often.

Your mind does tend to wander away." Zhenn mused, keeping himself there until

your vision begins to blacken from lack of air. Of course, he is not a cruel Master,

and the demon Prince pulls back in time to let your lungs rasp and scramble for air.

You suck in clean oxygen, allowed a brief respite from the assault on your senses for

maybe twenty seconds before he puts his balls and taint back over your face and

returns you to your musky abyss.

"You should be thanking me," Zhenn continued, "I liberated you. Why does

your mind wander to who you

used to be? It's pointless you know." He chuckles,

wiggling on your face and burying your nose deeper into his sweaty flesh. He sighs,

relaxed now, content with his positioning.

You try and remember; you try to rebel against him by digging for your memories

like the lost possession they are. A moment of realization comes over you, the fog

clearing, and you remember this isn't who you are, and you try to scramble for

reason and collection...

But Zhenn simply toys with you, like the musk-rag you are. It's too much to fight

against as he once again blocks off all your air and forces you to inhale his scent

deep into your lungs. Your little frontal lobe melts into slush at the onslaught, and

whatever scraps of memory you'd cobbled together are ripped apart.

And he laughs at you as your eyes glaze again, and your nostrils flare as you

eagerly breathe in the pheromone rich fuck-stink because you are nothing but a

snortfag, lucky to be his servant, lucky to be pinned under such a divine creature and

made to serve.

Who cares about what you once were, or who you were? Who cares about your

friends and your family? They're insignificant.

It clicks again, finally.

You loved it.

You loved him.

And so, you begin to eagerly suckle and lap at his ball-flesh, tugging on the sac

with your lips, tongue tracing the piercings. You make a sloppy mess of spit out of

your own face as you lewdly serve, polishing those breeder orbs.

You would never know the truth.

The truth that Zhenn could completely wipe your mind any time he wished. He

could completely sever your connection to your old-self like a precise scalpel. But he

doesn't; he doesn't because it is more fun to let you scramble for consciousness

again, watching you crawl and stumble and fall as he rips the rug out from under you

again and again. Letting you nearly achieve what your heart desperately desires only

to revoke it, to crush it, and toss it to the wind.

The only thing you'd ever see when you dig for your past would be his grinning

face, looming over you,

dominating you.

Now get back to worshiping.