Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

[#torture #faceslap #whipping #nudity #mature]

THE DAY WAS COLD. So were his hands.

It wasn't winter or anything in the city, but for the past three nights frosty winds had oft blew in from the deep North. He didn't have to guess that the lands of Frostholm and borders of Castamere were experiencing their usual blizzard break. Counties across the realm got spring break; the northerners got three weeks of cold, thrashing rain and gales that could freeze hot water on a beard.

His yellow eyes spied the morning fog roll into the rousing streets. The litter he was in shook, but he cared not for the purr of the shuttle wagon. Since the War of Three Cities, machines had being in vogue across the realms. Mecha-humans were no longer scorned on the cobblestones or shanked in dirty alleyways.

Even his present ride, the [shuttle wagon] was a contraption that mixed the magic of blue cosmo into its wheels. The driver in front only had to guide the vehicle on its way. Granted, he would always fancy his medieval horse-pulled carriages, but at the advent of the wagons, he just couldn't resist. Plus, Ravenna liked it. So go figure.

He'd do anything for her—buy anything for her.

Shuttle wagons were a new invention. They cost a whopping eight thousand Eldorian gold. And only a few stupid wealthy barons inside the city owned one, aside him.

The mists filled the streets, pouring into the open window of the wagon. He didn't shut out the teal curtains. For his iris, the gold of the sun above, had seen up close Phlegethon—and he had not gone blind then. So what was a little dew. His yellow eyes pierced clear through the mist. As he left the major part of hustle town, he last spotted cloaked undertakers hurling frigid corpses into wagons to be rolled away, off to the mass burial grounds.

A fortnight after the war, and still they were finding bodies.

The fall of the great gilded walls had perhaps killed half of what the battlefield had.

The shuttle rolled into the quieter noblesse of the Lords District: only maids and washerwomen were awake here.

"Onwards, sire?" His driver hailed in front, cute and resplendent in her red doublet.

"Yes." He droned back. He was aware his tone was gruff. It wasn't the girl's fault that he disliked the place or reason to which he journeyed. But what could he do about it. He reached forward and drew apart the darker drapes that granted his backseat privacy. And he studied the heart shape of his driver's butt for a while.

'I wish that riding seat were my face.'

Like magic, perusing the gorgeous anatomy of his chauffeur worked. He forgot he was visiting his bitch aunty for a few lecherous seconds. Thank fuck he made it actionable to surround himself with women at all times. His employed chefs, home doctors, security personnel, all were lasses. And they had the hugest asses and gazongas.

Statesman, hero, or warrior, he would first be an unbridled pervert!

"We're here, Sire." His driver's honey voice brought him back to the present. He dropped the curtains, already missing her buttcrack in those damned tight-ass pantaloons, and he adjusted his robes about him. The pretty Chauffeur had braided hot-pink hair shaved off on one side. She hopped down the controls of the shuttle wagon. The vehicle purred some expensive noise as she put out her arm and held the door open for him to climb out.

"Shall I wait, sir?"

He first put some distance between them—so he wouldn't suddenly fondle her hefty chest to escape the Talk he was already dreading. Then he replied her. "Yes, Rias. I shan't be long."

The girl was surprised he knew her name. But of course he did. He knew she was the gorgeous and slender sunshine who'd followed him from the Skoatl Mountains. The teenage tribe leader of the [Songspire] caves. After he'd melted the former chieftain of Sorcese to a heap of steaming organs, she had been next in line. She had followed him to war. And at their victory, she refused to return with her mountain tribes.

The girl was a baddie. And yes, she had permed and dyed her hair to masquerade herself before his eyes, fearing he would send her off if he discerned her true identity, he saw right through her gimmick.

And he let her stay.

A woman that would let her clan go for his sake was definitely worth keeping around.

Rias had proved her worth.

The tribes of Sorcese could anoint another chief. She was his now. On the plus side, she was a total hot chick.

Rias [Two Moons] watched him go alone through the mighty stone gates that descended into the most secure prison of the known world: Eragonn.

Thörr: the Tasmanian hunk of metal that served as Assistant Warden greeted Rafel at the foot of the five hundred and twenty five lodestone steps. The man was closer to cyborg than human; his entire left body half was [Green Cosmo] Mecha. He went down in a gentle bow that was weird on his 7ft machine bulk.

"Lord Israfel. It's a pleasure."

He didn't rise until the smooth pale hand waved him up. Rafel said, "rise, Thörr. You know why I'm here?"

The Cyborg warden nodded again. Rafel didn't so much as hear grinding of gears when the man's muscular vibranium arm flexed to lead him away from the long steps. They descended further into steep darkness. Eragonn smelled of moonflowers and spray mist. The stone here was shrouded in black [Adamantium] metal. The walls itself was reinforced in ancient granite. It was hopeless to try and escape.

The lights shimmering on sconces were plutonium ores. It was fucking radioactive lanterns.

Even if a bitch prisoner did manage to break out the dungeons, with a click of his steel fingers, Thörr could plunge all of Eragonn: the prison city, into eclipse darkness.

Snap!

Just like that. And the escapee would be lost in the labrum of screams. A stork with a broken wing, just waiting to be captured again.

Besides Rafel, no one else had escaped Eragonn.

"Your Aunt is in the deepest, blackest pit of our humble habitation, my Lord. I shall leave you to it." Thörr told Israfel and stayed himself, watching the hero of Titans Landing go on under the amber-shining sconces. Rafel intentionally skipped going to see Giselle in her solemn office when he alighted from the shuttle wagon minutes ago. They weren't on those terms yet. It'd take more than a fortnight for him to forget she'd hopped into bed with the bitch that had burned his home, killed his friends, and exiled him to a planet of dust.

Yes, more than fucking two weeks!

He found Thörr's description easily enough. The assistant warden had not been kidding: Lilith's own cell was literally the deepest, blackest pit in here. Rafel was guessing it had been a former fight-to-the-death pit. A hole of depravity those with broken wills but too chicken to off themselves went to check out of life.

Lilith's dungeon had rounded walls crawling with slime and moss. The earth of the place was mud and swampy.

It certainly didn't smell like moonflowers down here.

Rafel grinned darkly at this.

'Good.' He reasoned in his head. 'Very good. Let her know what it feels like to smell like piss and not take a shit for a week.'

He tasted iron as he jumped down the high edge of the dirt hole. [Umbrage] levitated him down so he didn't have to slip in the green-black sludge.

A figure, cowering in a corner of the pit rose at his appearance and walked out of the shadows. Her bare feet sank in the grime of the dungeon. Out of the stink, Lilith's silhouette was revealed.

"Oh, how the tables have turned?"

She stepped into the purplish light of the place and Rafel did a doubletake.

How was she still hot?n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

He expected her to be this cranky old cunt, caked in grease and black dirt. But she. . .she was filthy, yes. But the filth on her was like when you meant, filthy sexy. Her singular black prison robe dropped straight down behind her, slipping along on the mud like a bridal train on a widow. Slits lined the both edges, and Rafel could see the luscious cream of his Aunt's long legs. Her thighs alabaster. Her flesh, total milk.

'Shit! What the hell! I knew I should've locked her up with the others.'

Rafel was consumed with new wrath at her ability to still stir him—even in this state. Two weeks in a dank pit and it looked like she'd fallen in sexy mud-fighting practice. Only Lilith could manage that. She walked closer, as if sensing his unease. He was sure she could see the lengthening of that large thing under his tunic. Her purple eyes licked him up and down.

She purred. "What is it, my darling boy? Are you missing your tongue? It'll take more than...what's it been, three days? in a mortal cage to break me. Ohh, my sweet, sweet boy, you have a lot to learn. But why did you visit me, really? Did you want to ask me something? Or," her pink, forked tongue licked the seam of her bottom lip enticingly, "have me do something?"

Rafel marched through the slime at her.

"You hurt me."

Lilith chuckled, mocking him. "Oh, I did?"

"Fuck you!" Rafel roared. He would stab her with a lightning bolt if he dared; she was just too pretty.

Lilith reared back and spat in his face. "Fuck you too!"

Whack!

Rafel's arm went up fast, catching the left half of her face. He slapped her hard.

Lilith bent forward and clutched to her cheek.

"How dare y—"

Pah!

He slapped her again, backhanding her.

She landed in the black sludge some feet away.

"YOU SHOULD BE GLAD I VISIT YOU! YOU DIDN'T!" Rafel bellowed. He was shaking in anger and need.

He stomped to her and grabbed her mass of jet-black hair, wet and inky. He raised up her magenta eyes to meet his yellow ones. He gripped her jaw and she was forced to part her lips.

"I got something for you."

Lilith gulped, extremely aroused. They both knew fighting with each other had always been a mighty turn-on. The sting of her nephew's palm on her cheeks left her core wet and aching. She needed his cock. She needed him. Lilith was panting. Her eyes shined out of her face. She was more super-human when she was turned-on than any other time. Her eyes dropped to Rafel's torso and her clawed hands sank into his thighs.

She was on her knees before him. She breathed hard into his crotch.

To Lilith, the absence of Rafel's thick member inside of her pussy was more torture than Eragonn.

"Do you want me to beg?" Her hot eyes stroked the outline of his bulge. "'cuz I'll beg. Please, please, give me just a taste. I know you want to hold me down and pound me in this filthy mud. Bend me over the grimy walls, huh? Just a taste, please. A taste?"

Rafel jerked back when her hands closed for his dick. He feared if she'd made contact it was game over.

"No. Not that!" Rafel was more enraged. He pulled out from his cloak a whip. A whip of nine tails.

"This, aunty. This, is what I got for you."

"Wha—"

Rafel grabbed for her and began tearing off her dungeon robe.

She was full commando under there.

Glorious, pale nudity. Explore stories on empire

Her heavy breasts bounced into the scary lighting of the pit and Rafel tore the moistened material right off the crack of her fat buttocks.

She was sexy mature. Her body was goth majesty. Her hips were rounded and full. Her laps, edible. Rafel imagined them closing around his head, and wondered what her poon would taste like this long without a shower. His dick reared to monster level.

NO! he charged himself. I'm here to punish her.

Lilith was bent over, in a crouch, facing away from him. He stretched out the whip and lifted it high.

Straaakkkk!

He struck her between the shoulder blades, on her fair back. Her flesh instantly deepened to scarlet in the place where the tails had landed.

"Oowww!" Lilith wailed.

"This is for Corazón!"

Straaakkkk!

"And Rosamunde!"

Straaakkkk!

"And Brunhilda!"

Straaakkkk!

His whip kept singing in the air, coming down harder each time. Lilith was screaming now, but she didn't lift a finger to stop it. She took it all. The beating. His pain. His sadism. Lilith had never been on the receiving end of such whipping before, but at the sight of Rafel's passion, she loosened her body and let go to accept it. He tortured her with his voice, his falling whips, and the absence of his prime golden man-meat in her mouth.

"Ahh! Ahh!! Ahhn!!!"

Straaakkkk! Straaakkkk! Straaakkkk!

His flogging reached a point where it became an art of two bodies. Him, delivering. Her, receiving. It was pain and absolute, moist pleasure. Lilith was crumpled in on herself. Her voluptuous sexiness folded and hidden. His floggers marked her white skin in reddish stripes. The back of her thighs. Her underboobs. Her belly. Her stupendous buttocks.

At one point, a tail feathered into the cleft of her bum, slipping in and touching the hole.

Lilith convulsed in the heightened sensation of it.

She orgasmed right after Rafel roughly pulled back the whip.

"Oh, yes. Shag me already."

"What!" Rafel stopped his flogging. His arms were tired and fell to his side. His merciless whipping ended.

Lilith unfolded her curvaceous bod and Rafel saw her delicious titties marked by his whips. Her nips were hard points and her areolas were berry red. She was so aroused he sniffed her heat on the wind like some horny dog. "Are you liking this? This was supposed to hurt you?" He fired at her.

"It did, darling. It did." Lilith sat back and pushed apart her heavenly laps. She parted Eden for him. And he gulped when she rubbed her sex before his eyes. Her pussy glistened with squirt and hot female want. Still stroking herself, she crooked a talon at him. "—but now that you've gotten that out of your system, will you fuck me?"

Rafel shut his eyes and fisted the hand holding the whips. He'd flog her again but then she'd just come again. He did the only thing he knew would truly hurt her.

"No," he said. "I will not fuck you."

It was the first time he'd ever denied his Aunt.

Ever!

He knew the moment his words hit her heart, for the air in the very pit charged with electricity.

Lilith stood, fully nude; her breasts swayed and her curls down south glinted in the pits dim light. Her robust figure was touched and smudged in sludge. As she watched Rafel turn and start away, she told him this; angry that he was leaving, and wanting to hurt him as much as his rebuttal—even in the obvious face of his need—hurt her.

"Well, child. You want truth from me, innit? How about a little piece of it—

"I'm not your aunt. I'm your mum."