The Shaming
This work of pure fiction is based almost entirely around public humiliation and rape of a female. Just so you know.
I do not condone rape in the real world. It's a terrible crime and all rapists should get life sentences in solitary confinement forever. But this is fantasy, so please... don't be mad.
I would say this work is copywrited, if that meant anything, but I'm posting this anonymously on a publicly viewed site... so it isn't, LAWL.
***
***
The roar of the crowd was sharp in her ears and left them ringing as she ascended the wooden stair, step by step. She savored each precious moment she was on that stair, as they were sure to be the last peaceful ones she'd remember. If only she had the power to freeze time, and stay in those moments forever. She possessed no such power, and so she was doomed to her fate. Her Shaming. Looking out, she saw arrayed a crowd of thousands, all eager green-scaled faces, her reptilian people. They were lizardfolk, like her, and each one in the crowd, each and every one, were male. Only males were allowed to view a Shaming. Only males were allowed to view any public punishments.
Though she was dressed heavily, their eyes on her made her feel naked. Soon enough she would be. A shiver ran down her spine, though she dare not show it. She had to be brave, to save face. The only way to defeat a Shaming was to show none. There was no winning, of course. All broke in the end. But to surrender early, well... there was the greatest shame of all.
The wooden platform had been constructed in the center of the wide square. She could still smell the blood from yesterday, when the male prisoners had met their fates. Much more grisly than hers. Female traitors faced Shamings, but the males... they were flayed, or broken on the wheel, or worse (if that's even possible). It was written in their holy texts that females were not to be mutilated in the name of justice. It was an odd distinction to make (they could be harmed in battle, for instance), but how often was religion ever brought to task on its contradictions?
The platform was large and mostly spartan. There were only three items of interest. The first was a large rectangular iron frame. Cold and efficient, it lacked for any decoration, like all else on the platform. It featured for cuffs, large enough to secure over wrists and ankles. The higher cuffs hung from short chains from the frame's corners. The lower ones were simply affixed to the base poles. Accompanying the iron frame, a few feet away from it, was a wooden pillory, set at around waist height. Behind it was another iron frame, the crossbar at the same elevation as the pillory. The third object on the stage was a table, whatever objects on it covered by a blanket.
The crowd was chanting something, but she didn't pay attention to what. The wooden steps creaked as she ascended, her mind a fog, her face and body feeling hot. She was at her weakest. They'd seen to that.
Her capture was many weeks ago, but they held her in a cell, waiting for her estrus. Shamings were always conducted on the female's heat. That morning, they had drugged her, forcing her to drink some kind of solution. It fogged her wits, but her senses were powerfully amplified. She could hear every voice, see every pair of hungry eyes, feel the countour of the wooden steps beneath her feet, but she could barely keep her thoughts in order. She knew it was to weaken her resolve. It would work, too.
She crested the top of stage and was led onto it, to the cheers (and jeers) of the thousands below and all around her, crowding the stage. She was flanked on both sides by hardened warriors, armored and armed. She was dressed in a flowing silk dress that made her look stunning, the material worth more than all her possessions combined in the height of her power. Even that was an insult, however. She was a warrioress, a general. No princess or waif. Her long tail swayed back and forth behind her, and her eyes were downcast. She wanted to turn her chin up and face them bravely, but her head was swimming, and she burned between her legs. The drug had sapped her courage, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet.
She wasn't alone on the stage, either...
***
He watched her come up the steps, feeling a tightness in his chest. Anticipation. Glorious, wonderful anticipation. A sage had once told him that it was anticipation that was the sweetest, that moment when all was possible and perfect, before reality came and stamped them into history. He was drunk with it. All around the crowd throbbed, roaring, as the condemned female stepped up onto the platform. He nearly laughed out loud. Instead, he only smiled.
This was his great enemy. They called her Swamp Fang, and though there were other male commanders that rebelled with her, there was never any doubt she was the principle commander. For over a year she had filled his nights with terror, wondering where she would strike, wondering if she'd finally crush them in the field and have his head on a spike. All it had taken was a turncoat to lead her into the trap that destroyed her rebellion. So there she stood, unfettered, too drugged to be a threat to anyone, swooning in her heat. She looked about ready to collapse. The flowing, feminine dress was a nice touch. He looked forward to tossing it to the crowd.
"Cuff her!" he barked. He was dressed more practically for the event. He was naked from the waist up. Below, he wore an elegant, long loincloth that reached down further than his knees, and covered him well from behind as well. He reflected on how curious it was that while the crowd would soon see him naked (and others, in all likelihood), she would be the one being shamed. But he wasn't here to analyze psychology. He was hear to humiliate his opponent. His loincloth featured a prominent tent, where underneath his erect cock demanded attention. He felt no shame in such a display. The males in the crowd were cheering him on, envious it was not them in his place.
She was roughly grabbed and hauled to the frame. She didn't resist, though the look of apprehension was palpable. It was easy to be brave in the cell. She had been, spitting curses at him, challenging him to single combat, calling him a coward. But now, as they lifted her arms and cuffed them to hang extended and above her; spread her legs to cuff her ankles to the base of the frames two poles, there was little of that bluster left in her. She wouldn't look at him. He grinned.
***
The guards were efficient. They had her trussed up in the frame and helpless, before she even knew what they were doing. She felt drunk. She realized her mouth was open and she shut it. There before her, her enemy stood gloating. Were he literally anyone else, he would be almost comely. He was only a few years her elder, and his body was carved like a statue. He was well muscled but not bulky, lean and fit and young. He had a powerful face and a commanding voice, but today he would be her... torturer, as well as the victor. It was tradition that the victorious general be given the honor of shaming the captured females, rare an occurrence though it was. This would be the first in their lifetimes, and it was obvious how excited he was. The tent in his loincloth betrayed him.
She looked away as he approached. He listed off her crimes, in a loud booming voice so the crowd could hear. Old news. She'd heard it all at her farce of a trial. She took the moment to try and collect her wits, but her head was swimming, and it was like trying to herd cats. Her body betrayed her and she shivered. The crowd noticed, and cheered.
He moved behind her. She heard his voice. "Let's show them that the Swamp Fang is little more than a needy female in the fullness of her heat." It was said soft enough for her ears only. She steeled herself as best she could, but said nothing. It was the one promise she made to herself, the one she thought she could definitely keep. No matter what, she would not trade words with him. Would not give him the satisfaction.
She felt hands on her shoulders. The crowd went a little quieter, but there were catcalls and jeers, jokes that made her stomach tighten with their lewdness, and worse when the laughter came. She contemplated swatting him with her tail, but she didn't, for the same reason she didn't test the strengths of the cuffs she was bound to. There was no point. There was no escape.
Her body jerks as his hands tugged. There was a rip. She felt the immaculate silk garment loosen, but it held. The crowd cheered. He pulled again, and again her body jerked, the chains rattling a little. The fabric surrendered and tore at the shoulders. She felt cold air against her soft breasts, her nipples hard and getting harder as they were exposed. The crowd in front of her whooped and called out.
"You are nothing more than meat to them," he hissed near her ear, from behind. "They scream to see your cunt. To see the tailhole of the great and fearsome Swamp Fang. Let's not disappoint them."
Every fiber in her wanted to scream at him to spare her, but she bit her lip. She wouldn't. There was another jerk, and the fabric shredded further, and soon she felt the sun and the wind on her scales, and the crowd went absolutely wild. She was naked, utterly, and with her legs spread by the frame, she was on display for them. Her face grew hot, and she turned away, but to where? The crowd was all around them, packed thick, and roaring. From the front, thousands of eyes were locked on her reddened, slick, heat-lubricated sex. From the back, thousands of eyes roamed over the firm roundness of her ass. She felt her tail grabbed, and she gasped as it was yanked high. Those eyes now had something else to look at; the wrinkled star of her tailhole.
The jeers rolled in, so thick and numerous she couldn't make them out. If the only objective of a Shaming was to shame her, then this would have been the end of it. Merciful, compared to what would come. But she knew it was not over. It had hardly even started. Never in her life had she felt so completely exposed and helpless. She shivered, her body out of control, and it was all she could do to control her bladder. Her eyes teared and she twisted, but she was unable to deflect the reality. She was nude, and thousands, thousands, were cheering.
They'd be cheering louder once they found out her secret. She clenched her eyes shut and steadied herself. She had to be brave...
***
The roar of the crowd was music to him. He threw her tattered garment aside and took a moment to take in her curves, her soft scales, her delicious, young female body. She shivered all over and his smile only got better. He got a bigger roar from the crowd when he grabbed her tail and pulled it up. She wasn't even resisting. Why bother? He'd only pull it up rougher, or get the guards to help. She knew that.
His eyes roamed over her ass. He was definitely a male who preferred the backside of a female. Not just the anus, but the whole rump. The firm cheeks. The roundness of the flesh. The tight, secret little tailhole. The hint of her sex, begging to be on full display when she was bent over. Soon enough, he told himself. His hand slid over her ass and he felt her tense, but there was aught else she could do. She stroked her rump, feeling the softness of the muscle there, dipping his fingers in the crack just to feel her jump. Then he drew away.
He walked to the table and lifted one corner of the blanket, revealing a number of leather straps, linked by chain, two in total. He picked them up and approached her. She watched him with wet eyes, trying not to look at his groin, where his tented loincloth jumped and jerked with the motions of his cock as he walked. He and her both knew she'd be well acquainted with it soon enough.
He stepped behind her and grabbed her tail again. He lifted it (to the renewed jeers from the crowd) and strapped one part of the simple mechanism to it. It was little more than a belt, and he tightened it around her tail. He took the other loop, much larger, and put it around her neck. A collar. When that was tightened, the chain linking the two kept her tail up.
He gave her bared ass a sudden slap. The flesh jiggled and rippled nicely, and she jerked in her chains and yelped. She clammed up instantly, but some in the crowd heard it and laughed. He grinned. She was trying so hard to remain stoic, but they had dosed her and it would be nearly impossible for her to maintain it. "Can you feel their eyes?" he hissed, sliding his hands over her rump, letting the tip of his cock, still covered by the loincloth, bump against the base of her tail. "Wandering over your body? Every one of them is imaging himself mounting you, driving you into the dirt. Hold onto your pride long enough and you'll give them that chance, Swamp Slut." He licked the back of her neck, and the small sob he was rewarded with was worth all the lost battles of the war.
***
She hated herself instantly for the small break, the weak little sob. She steeled up as quickly as she could, but she could almost feel him grinning behind her. Her body suddenly flinched as his hands were on her, though not on her ass this time. They were on her hips, one trailing over and up to her stomach. The other trailed down, to her groin. She whimpered softly, shutting her eyes tight, as she felt the fingers slide lower, and lower. She'd never felt hands there, and the lower his fingers went, the more her stomach clenched. He held her tight. With her tail forced up and her limbs shackled, she was utterly helpless to stop him.
His fingers glided over her mound, feeling her. The touch was electric. Her heat had her super-sensitive and her mouth opened, her hips jerking. Laughter rung in her ears. Her body practically lost control, after so slight a touch! This would be impossible, she realized suddenly with a great sinking of her hopes. She'd be broken even before he loosed the crowd on her, if it ever came to that.
He stroked her sex a few more times, feeling her fluids and her wetness. Then, without warning, two of his fingers slid inside her, and she jerked again. Abruptly he stopped, and a chill ran down her spine as she heard him say, "No way..."
She hung her head low as he suddenly shouted to the crowd, "A VIRGIN!"
She would never forget the cheers for as long as she lived.
He gave her no time to recover. His fingers jerked out, then back in, then out, then back in, over and over and over. Her body shook in time with his motions, and she had to clench her teeth to keep silent, and it only partially worked. Already she could feel her fluids running down her leg, a lewd foreshadowing of what was to come.
Female orgasms are difficult to discern, even to a trained eye. But the first orgasm during a heat is certainly not. The fluids build up inside, well within the female's chamber, but they are released on her first climax. This was why the Shaming started with 'pleasure' for the female. After all, the point of the Shaming wasn't pain. It was humiliation.
She couldn't hold back. There was no point in it. Her heat was in full swing and she had no choice but to surrender to him. There was no profit in resistance because at this point, it was a foregone conclusion. It came upon her very suddenly, and she couldn't stop herself from crying out. "AAAH!"
Great gouts of clear, strong-smelling female fluid came from her pussy. It was like someone squeezing out a sodden sponge from inside her cunt. Not with one squeeze, mind, but with clenches, so the fluid came out in sputters and spurts. It was unfakeable, thicker than urine and crystal clear, and emptying out over his pistoning fingers to splash wetly on the wooden deck of the platform. His fingers left her, and she was left to stand there, shuddering all over her body, as pitiful wet squirts of clear fluid erupted from her quivering sex. She was utterly exhausted, almost drooling on herself. Her mind was blown, a mixture of the heat-orgasm and the drugs.
She heard him talking to the guards, and there they were, unhooking her from the frame. How long had they been there? Her arms came loose and she sagged, but they held her tightly and she didn't fall. Her legs were freed and she was immediately walked towards the pillory. She couldn't resist, even as her eyes widened. She knew it was coming eventually, but she couldn't help the pang of fear. The crowd must have noticed her apprehension, for the mockery renewed with force, the jokes and the lewd names and vulgarities washing over her.
Her upper thighs came in contact with the crossbar of the smaller frame that sat just before the pillory. Her ankles were fastened to the base of the support poled, keeping her legs spread wide. The guards then roughly pushed forward, bending her over at the waist. With her tail tied up over her back, this lewdly exposed her to anyone within side of her backside, which was effectively half the entire crowd. Applause and catcalls greeter her exposed sex and tailhole. The top half of the pillory came down, locking her head and hands into place. She was totally immobilized, exposed, and helpless. And HE was standing right in front of her.
She met his eyes, and he grinned evilly at her. His hands went to his belt, and he slowly started to undo it. "Remember those terms you sent me? When you said the war would only end when I was choking on my own blood?" he asked airily. He loosened the belt and the loincloth dropped away. His penis bobbed gently, freed to the daytime sun. He had every reason to be proud of it. It was nine inches if it was a centimeter, and thick, with a pronounced, spaded head. It jutted from his groin slit proudly, bobbing with his heartbeat. She'd never been this close to an erect penis before, and she knew she was about to be a whole lot closer. He spoke again, "Ironic, huh?"
Some in the crowd heard the joke and laughed, but she knew it was meant only for her. She shuddered, but that represented just about her full range of motion. They had warned her about this; don't bite. You're protected against worse things unless you 'attack'. If she bit him, she stood to have all her teeth pulled out, and then they'd fuck her mouth anyway. All it would earn her was pain. Drugged, heat-crazed, and wrapped in afterglow as she was, all she could manage was a weak look of defeat, and her mouth slowly opening.
***
She gagged almost instantly, but he showed no mercy. He slid himself in to the hilt, holding onto the sides of her head to keep her still. It was a risk, but she knew better than to bite. At least he figured she did. He stood to possibly lose his malehood, but it was worth it to muzzlefuck the bitch that almost shamed him in front of the entire kingdom.
He kept one hand on the back of her head, pumping his hips into her mouth as she coughed and choked and moaned plaintively. He ignored the ribaldry from the crowd, as the assembled males, many of them erect and furiously horny, tried to outdo one another with the cruelty of their catcalls and the lewdness of their jokes. They were for her, and nobody was paying him much attention anyway. Each one of them was imagining themselves in his place. So he took his time to enjoy how fortunate he was.
He showed her absolutely zero mercy. He fucked her face like he owned it, because at that moment, he did. Suddenly the words were on his lips, slurred just a little with his arousal and sexual exertion. "That's a good bitch," he cooed, for her ears only. "That's where you belong. You were a pretty good commander, Swamp Slut, but you're a much better cocksleeve." He rolled his head back, holding her's with both hands and rolling his hips into her mouth. She coughed and gagged, writhing in distress, her drool dripping down his dick and onto the planks of the platform.
"Think of all those night you were out there, giving us problems. I knew we'd take you. I knew I'd get you up on this stage, to slide my cock in you, make you take it like a proper female. Mngh!" He thrusted in deep, very deep. She choked and looked up at him, eyes wide. He smiled down at her. "You're beaten. Utterly. Sucking the cock of your sworn enemy. Choking on it. Get it? How does it feel, you goddamn whore?"
He slid out, and she hacked and coughed, panting and moaning plaintively. He gave her a moment or two before grabbing her head again and he slid back in. Her eyes snapped open wide as his cock was reintroduced to her mouth, and they clamped shut as he started vigorously muzzlefucking her. He held her head with both hands and pumped his hips rapidly, just hammering her snout with his penis. He felt his orgasm rising...
***
It was hard to see through the tears. She wasn't crying - she was far past that now. The constant gagging and choking as his penis slid deep into her muzzle and her throat was making her eyes water. She'd never felt less in control. He could fuck her mouth as hard and deep as he wanted, something he made clear when he slid it practically into her stomach (or so it felt) while mocking her position, reminding her of how helpless she was.
And now he was truly fucking her. She gurgles and grunted, drool flicking from her chin as he savagely fucked her mouth, and she did everything she could to keep her teeth out of the way. He was fucking her so hard her ears were ringing, and her eyes were closed tight. She could barely hear the crowd over his grunts and the sound of his penis messily plunging in and out of her face, but she could definitely feel their eyes on her upraised ass, and see the drops of her femcum dripping down the insides of her thighs.
He finally tensed and gripped her head much more tightly. She got her first taste of a male's seed. She was surprised at its saltiness and texture. He had a lot, and it filled her mouth quickly. She was going to spit it out (regardless if he'd pulled out by then or not), but he was a step ahead of her, holding her nose shut. She gagged, and twisted, and writhed... and then swallowed. Only after he felt her swallow a few times did he let go and draw his cock out, and she panted for air, eyes downcast.
When she glanced up, he was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, she felt gripped by panic. Her eyes could only see the sea of eager faces, pointing and laughing. The session was dragging on, though, and many were simply watching with eager interest... many of them pawing themselves behind their loincloths. She looked away, for all the good it did. All she could see was the crowd, in any of the very limited directions she had available to her.
That's when she felt the hands on her ass. They were his, she knew. She knew them from before. This time, however, he had a much more exposed canvas. He ran a thumb over her tailhole and the orifice clenched reflexively. She made a small noise, and she heard him chuckle. It didn't escape her notice that his showmanship was slipping. He was playing with her now, the crowd forgotten. He played with her spread lips, earning himself a small trickle of her copious fluids. He spread them on her tailhole, and laughed again when she froze with a chill.
A lightning-bolt of pain shot up her body from her rump as he slapped her taut ass. And then another. The crowd cheered with everyone one. Every smack rung out over the quiet masses, and was answered with a manly cheer. One, after the other, after the other. She clenched her teeth, biting down and straining. They didn't call it the Shaming for nothing. She couldn't fight back, or move, or even look to see what was happening. All she could do was weather each slap, whimpering with every blow, and taste the cum on her tongue.
In retrospect, what perhaps was the most embarrassing part of losing her virginity was how callously it was taken from her. There was no ceremony, no great build-up. Immediately after the last of the stinging slaps to her rump stopped, she felt his hands grip her rump, and then a sharp pain deep in her cunt. She cried out, loudly, very loudly, her wail echoing over the crowd who cheered back at her. She felt him deep inside her. Her virginity was broken.
Running a close second for most embarrassing was how good it felt. The initial pain faded almost instantly, because he didn't stop. He was fucking her like a dog fucking a bitch, short quick strokes, hungry to breed her. The cheer from the crowd was constant, as were her pants and moans. Each one that left her beak made her feel reduced and humiliated. Her mind rebelled. This was rape. She was being raped in public. She'd never be able to show her face anywhere ever again, assuming she came out of this alive. But her body was in heat, and drugged to boot, and all she could do was utter mindless feminine cries as the male behind her fucked her like a brood mare.
She understood why he came in her mouth first. Not just to shame her as much as possible, though there certainly was that, but also to last longer in her cunt. He was fucking her hard and fast, at a pace no primed male would be able to maintain. But he was coming off a copious orgasm in her mouth. It would take him time to build himself back up. And he spent that time drilling her.
She came, more than once. She wasn't sure if anyone noticed. All she could do was look at the lustful sea of faces and feel his hands on her hips, occasionally slapping her rump or rubbing her tailhole, and his cock plunging in and out of her at a rapid pace. He'd know she'd orgasmed though. He let her know he did. After the first, he gave her a hard spank. After the second, he just laughed and fucked her harder.
She was sure he'd have been happy to fuck her all day, and night, and well into the next day. The animal part of her that was deep in estrus would have welcomed that, but she suppressed it. Her head and hands jerked in the pillory as her cunt was fucked raw from behind, the constant motions already starting to hurt.
His thrusts were getting slower, and harder, and deeper. She heard his breathing change, and the crowd started egging him on. Finally, he announced, "When you pop out this kid, nnnnh, name it after me!" She felt him go in to the hilt, his hips and groin flush with her ass. She felt the warmth spread inside her. Her head hung, and she moaned plaintively, bereft of hope. As deep in heat as she was, that was a guaranteed pregnancy there. The implications staggered her, but she had no time to think about them. He pulled free with a wet pop and spanked her again, and she yelped loudly. The laughter rang in her ears.
She felt him walking around her front. His cock, flagging now and at perhaps half mast, was coated in her and his fluids. He grabbed her head and she didn't even need prompting. It slid into her mouth and she cleaned in, tears dripping from her eyes. As her tongue moved over the soiled cock, her teardrops hit the wooden platform with soft pat-pats, as behind her, his cum dripping out of her cunt did the same.
Then, she felt a pair of hands on her rump. She jerked, and froze, and looked up at him. He was just grinning.
"The ultimate humiliation," he said airily, giving his hips a small thrust to cram more of his softening cock in her mouth. "Your last virginity, lost to a male you will never see. So any male you see, forever, you will wonder... was he the first one, to cum up my tailhole?"
He pulled his cock out of her mouth in time, because the penetration hurt so much her teeth clenched and she strained, growling, and then wailing. The cock plunged up her unlubed tailhole without giving her a moment to prepare. The cock itself was lubed, a little, but it was small comfort. He was big, bigger than the cock she just spat out, and when it started pumping up her ass, she wondered how it wasn't coming out her mouth. The male said nothing (was probably instructed not to) as he raped her ass. She coughed and mewled as she took it.
"THE SWAMP FANG!" she heard a voice called out. The cheer that answered was uproarious. The reminder cut deeper than she expected it to. She remembered her old life. She would crouch over maps with her lieutenants, planning raids. She was striding across the battlefield, drunk on victory as her soldiers called out her name in chants. She was seeing the local chiefs huddled before her, begging mercy...
And now she was being fucked up the ass in full view of thousands of eyes. None of that would be remembered, of her old life. This would be on the tongues of all. How she lost her anal virginity to a male she never laid eyes on, cleaning cock of her sworn enemy soon after it had broke her maidenhood.
The male in her ass paid no attention to her comfort. She could hear him grunt and pant, his hips slipping her firm ass. She could even hear her tight tailhole gulping on his cock as he plunged it in and out of her. Every once and a while he spanked her ass, but it was an afterthought. He was enjoying her hole, because that's all she was reduced to. Bent over and immobilized, she was a hole.
It was not the end of her ordeal. As the male continued fucking her up the ass, a raffle was held. They pulled lots and chose winners. When she was finally seeded up her rectum, they opened the pillory and undid her bindings. They dragged her to the front of the stage, where a queue was forming.
One by each they climbed onto the platform and claimed her. The first took her mouth, forcing her to kneel and suckle him, not thrusting at all. He insulted her technique the entire time, and called her every name in the book, and even invented a few. When he came, he made sure to get some in her eye, as she coughed up the rest.
The next took her tailhole. The one after him did as well. Both had her pressed face-down to the wooden stage, though one was gentler than the other.
A trio all took her at once, filling every hole. She passed out midway, but they brought her back with smelling salts.
She started losing track. She was fucked on her back, on her front, either flat or with her ass in the air. She was spanked, scratched, slapped. They made her say things. Made her thank them, made her renounce her victories, made her beg them to fuck her.
At some point she found herself laying face down on the platform. How long had she been there. The sun was no longer hot against her back. She could barely move, and when she opened her eye, she had to blink away the cum. It stung, but it didn't matter. She could see that the crowd was mostly dispersed. A few hundred remained, perhaps. Was the show over already?
"Kneel," commanded a voice. His voice. She struggled to obey. When she got onto her hands and knees, cum emptied from her cunt and anus alike, to sluice audibly onto the wood. She coughed, and a glob of cum came up and splattered on the stage. All she could taste was salt.
"Kneel." His voice again, soft and commanding. She forced herself to kneel, sitting on her ankles. She looked up, slowly, and there he was. He was erect, and looking down at her. His eyes were... blank. Her's were too.
"You have two choices, traitor," he said. "Suck my cock, swallow my cum, one more time, and you will be my slave. I will treat you well, mount you gently, and allow you whatever freedom you earn. Refuse, and I leave you here. I allowed thirty to claim you during the raffle. There are hundreds left waiting for leftovers. You will not survive. Choose."
She blinked, slowly. Then, she leaned forward. Her lips wrapped around his cock. She knew the motions now. Felt like she'd always known them. And when she heard him grunt and felt the seed empty into her mouth, she gulped it down without spilling a drop.
Only then did she smile a private little smile.