Silsila Om
The Fire Wheels hoot and holler and clap as Merov Ekh spins her little finger, making their prized host twirl, the djinn's face a familiar mask of flustered outrage. She hated being made light of, so of course the Fire Wheels did so constantly, mixing their jokes with praise and brazen flirtation. It was so much that Om wondered if she hated being made light of quite so much...
Om doubted that even if Rosethal had no mother and was just meat for the Fire Wheels to play with, she would have experienced even a tenth of the punishment the Host had received.
Arms folded, Om's expression was a stoic frown, failing to hide the rapid reddening of her already dark red skin, however. Memories unbidden sprung to mind.
Otherwise naked and exposed, her body vulnerable to the many wandering hands of the Fire Wheels: pinching, cupping, squeezing, overstimulating the body she found herself trapped in. Of course, that was the point, and an important part of taming her: to make her accept that the body was her…
Laid out on the floor, a drunken Fire Wheel's ass plastered her face, bound spread-eagle... feeling the bare feet of a half dozen Fire Wheels using her proud body as carpeting, drinking and laughing like she wasn’t even there…
Fighting three Fire Wheels at once, arms bound behind her back, ankles tied together, hopping in humiliated frustration as once again she was dragged down, once again she was filled and pistoned and made to squeal out a submission...
Tied in stocks, horns grabbed and used as handlebars, suffering the roughest, heaviest, rudest kisses from barbarian after barbarian, drool from others pooling in her mouth or down her throat as she was given "practice"...
Pinched, slapped, squeezed, milked, spread, pressed, ravaged, loved, praised, admired, bragged about...
Could Om really blame them? She had been the catch of a lifetime. Few host were as strong as Om, accidentally bound to a form well suited to her wild, proud nature. Silsila grinned, even through the furious shame, remembering the face of the sorceress who summoned her--how surprised she was when Om broke free of the circle with ease! Or her expression as Om pinned her to the wall,and kissed her, feeling her surrender immediately to the Host's golden lips.
(She had been commissioned to bind a construction spirit to a powerful vessel of iron and gold. Om, far better suited to war and domination then stacking bricks, had been chosen by accident.)
During her rampage through the countryside, countless bounty hunters and eager sorcerers were shamed at her hands. All cried, one way or the other, their submission to the Host; left in puddles by the road, dangling from tree branches, naked and humiliated, marked thoroughly by the affection of her domineering hands. It was paradise; ruling like a queen over the countryside, taking what she wanted, eating and drinking and laughing.
And then Merov Ekh and her Fire Wheels beat her. How!? They bound her with the name Silsila, sapped her size and strength, even sealed 2 of her arms. They cried out to humble her, to initiate her, to make her know her place. They praised her strength, her durability, her pride, while also praising her body, with words and carnality, seeking to humiliate, uplift, flatter, fluster, all the while insisting she join the Fire Wheels...
W-well, is it any wonder she had conflicting feelings about it!? Silsila snorts. No, that was quite normal. The Fire Wheels had confused her! Confused her very badly. She would get her revenge on them soon, confuse them like they confused her, drink from their bodies until they sang submission. It was fate! For now, though, she was slave champion.
Going wild at night? Stealing kisses and purses? That was natural for her. Comfortable, almost. A reminder of the time before she was bound by Merov Ekh's rituals and spells. She felt a pang of guilt at the more inventive cruelties of the Fire Wheels, though… perhaps she could relate?
For now, though, she was going out with them, on another nightly excursion of lust and drunkenness and chaos…
Birsi
“I don’t think you do, and please remove yourself from my sw-Hnmmmph???!!” Birsi was left baffled and unprepared for such a method of attack, for her mouth was open just wide enough to her own glove to be jammed past those pretty lips of hers. Of course, she didn’t have time to react to that first injustice against her, as then her face was buried in the barbarian’s bulk… Oh goodness it was hot, sweaty, and reeked of a long day of not doing their damn job.
Oh her condition was terrible right now, her face was a warm pink from the heat of her ‘anger’. The sweat on her brow was hers, but the tiny droplets and strokes of it on her cheeks were from this brute’s bust, where her face had been stuffed while they messed with her attire and humiliated her. They had even gone and taken her cuffs, which were a thick leather similar to her own gloves, but purposefully made to restrain one’s wrists or ankles as tightly as possible without causing discomfort. Where were those cuffs now? Binding Birsi’s own, now helpless, wrists. Clearly it couldn’t get much wor-
“GHN?!” The first smack forces her eyes to go wide, the stinging feeling coursing through her body like lightning, only to be followed up so soon that she can’t even get the breath back into herself. “MNFFFH!!?” Her backside bounced almost hypnotically, for while it wasn’t much compared to the brute beating her, it was a rather nice ass due to her daily routine. The third and fourth strikes finalized the red color crossing her cheeks, the guardswoman unable to even process why her face could be so flushed right now. Fifth, Sixth, the last two spankings made her wriggle and writhe on the ground like a pleasure slave, only to then be hoisted up into the air by her own belt.
How… How Embarrassing… And it was only going to get worse for her, as far as she could tell. The spankings had left her a little disoriented from the sensations being forced onto her sensitive ass, but she could make out most of what they were talking about. They wanted to take her back to their barracks…? Take her out of Errands? Wait… Were they planning to further this humiliation into public degradation!? Were they going to take her out on their errands, AND THEN TAKE HER BACK TO THEIR BARRACKS?! This couldn’t get any worse… Aaaand she was drooling on the holy floor.
The Fire Wheels hoot and holler and clap as Merov Ekh spins her little finger, making their prized host twirl, the djinn's face a familiar mask of flustered outrage. She hated being made light of, so of course the Fire Wheels did so constantly, mixing their jokes with praise and brazen flirtation. It was so much that Om wondered if she hated being made light of quite so much...
Om doubted that even if Rosethal had no mother and was just meat for the Fire Wheels to play with, she would have experienced even a tenth of the punishment the Host had received.
Arms folded, Om's expression was a stoic frown, failing to hide the rapid reddening of her already dark red skin, however. Memories unbidden sprung to mind.
Otherwise naked and exposed, her body vulnerable to the many wandering hands of the Fire Wheels: pinching, cupping, squeezing, overstimulating the body she found herself trapped in. Of course, that was the point, and an important part of taming her: to make her accept that the body was her…
Laid out on the floor, a drunken Fire Wheel's ass plastered her face, bound spread-eagle... feeling the bare feet of a half dozen Fire Wheels using her proud body as carpeting, drinking and laughing like she wasn’t even there…
Fighting three Fire Wheels at once, arms bound behind her back, ankles tied together, hopping in humiliated frustration as once again she was dragged down, once again she was filled and pistoned and made to squeal out a submission...
Tied in stocks, horns grabbed and used as handlebars, suffering the roughest, heaviest, rudest kisses from barbarian after barbarian, drool from others pooling in her mouth or down her throat as she was given "practice"...
Pinched, slapped, squeezed, milked, spread, pressed, ravaged, loved, praised, admired, bragged about...
Could Om really blame them? She had been the catch of a lifetime. Few host were as strong as Om, accidentally bound to a form well suited to her wild, proud nature. Silsila grinned, even through the furious shame, remembering the face of the sorceress who summoned her--how surprised she was when Om broke free of the circle with ease! Or her expression as Om pinned her to the wall,and kissed her, feeling her surrender immediately to the Host's golden lips.
(She had been commissioned to bind a construction spirit to a powerful vessel of iron and gold. Om, far better suited to war and domination then stacking bricks, had been chosen by accident.)
During her rampage through the countryside, countless bounty hunters and eager sorcerers were shamed at her hands. All cried, one way or the other, their submission to the Host; left in puddles by the road, dangling from tree branches, naked and humiliated, marked thoroughly by the affection of her domineering hands. It was paradise; ruling like a queen over the countryside, taking what she wanted, eating and drinking and laughing.
And then Merov Ekh and her Fire Wheels beat her. How!? They bound her with the name Silsila, sapped her size and strength, even sealed 2 of her arms. They cried out to humble her, to initiate her, to make her know her place. They praised her strength, her durability, her pride, while also praising her body, with words and carnality, seeking to humiliate, uplift, flatter, fluster, all the while insisting she join the Fire Wheels...
W-well, is it any wonder she had conflicting feelings about it!? Silsila snorts. No, that was quite normal. The Fire Wheels had confused her! Confused her very badly. She would get her revenge on them soon, confuse them like they confused her, drink from their bodies until they sang submission. It was fate! For now, though, she was slave champion.
Going wild at night? Stealing kisses and purses? That was natural for her. Comfortable, almost. A reminder of the time before she was bound by Merov Ekh's rituals and spells. She felt a pang of guilt at the more inventive cruelties of the Fire Wheels, though… perhaps she could relate?
For now, though, she was going out with them, on another nightly excursion of lust and drunkenness and chaos…
Birsi
“I don’t think you do, and please remove yourself from my sw-Hnmmmph???!!” Birsi was left baffled and unprepared for such a method of attack, for her mouth was open just wide enough to her own glove to be jammed past those pretty lips of hers. Of course, she didn’t have time to react to that first injustice against her, as then her face was buried in the barbarian’s bulk… Oh goodness it was hot, sweaty, and reeked of a long day of not doing their damn job.
Oh her condition was terrible right now, her face was a warm pink from the heat of her ‘anger’. The sweat on her brow was hers, but the tiny droplets and strokes of it on her cheeks were from this brute’s bust, where her face had been stuffed while they messed with her attire and humiliated her. They had even gone and taken her cuffs, which were a thick leather similar to her own gloves, but purposefully made to restrain one’s wrists or ankles as tightly as possible without causing discomfort. Where were those cuffs now? Binding Birsi’s own, now helpless, wrists. Clearly it couldn’t get much wor-
“GHN?!” The first smack forces her eyes to go wide, the stinging feeling coursing through her body like lightning, only to be followed up so soon that she can’t even get the breath back into herself. “MNFFFH!!?” Her backside bounced almost hypnotically, for while it wasn’t much compared to the brute beating her, it was a rather nice ass due to her daily routine. The third and fourth strikes finalized the red color crossing her cheeks, the guardswoman unable to even process why her face could be so flushed right now. Fifth, Sixth, the last two spankings made her wriggle and writhe on the ground like a pleasure slave, only to then be hoisted up into the air by her own belt.
How… How Embarrassing… And it was only going to get worse for her, as far as she could tell. The spankings had left her a little disoriented from the sensations being forced onto her sensitive ass, but she could make out most of what they were talking about. They wanted to take her back to their barracks…? Take her out of Errands? Wait… Were they planning to further this humiliation into public degradation!? Were they going to take her out on their errands, AND THEN TAKE HER BACK TO THEIR BARRACKS?! This couldn’t get any worse… Aaaand she was drooling on the holy floor.