Alt Ending: Concubines of Kulrakan (BAD END)

How complete is the girls’ submission?

How Much: [5] More than expected… ensorcelled and enraptured by Kulrakan’s Daemonic lusts, there is hardly a shred of the true Lavorra or Melira left.

—

From the Delwald, the Daemonic incursion spreads.

The march of abyssal-iron boots tramps across the surrounding regions, as far as Vedermark and Corringate, before resistance can be mustered.

And all along, villages and towns fall under the control and sway of Kulrakan, elevated now beyond the bounds of normal Daemonic prowess.

His is a legion of Daemonspawn soldiers, with an ever-growing retinue of slaves, cultists, and breeding stock.

The Daemon-Lord rarely takes to battle himself, preferring to direct the conflict from a distance, in a pocket realm of his own creation, crafted from the captive magical energies farmed in the Delwald.

But those that see him speak of his great and terrible beauty, the maddening lusts that his very presence ignites in all but the most stalwart hearts. And even the stalwart can be broken.

Those few that see him and live to tell of it - in haunted tones or maddened gibbering - speak of the two that Kulrakan favours about all others. The twin concubines that he seems to prize with something that could very nearly be called adoration.

Slender and Elven, their fae-touched features sharp and well-defined, their buxom, curved bodies clad in delicate silver chain and rich black silk; one ash-grey, the other pale as milk.

Wherever Kulrakan goes, he is accompanied by his Dark Sorceress, and his Fallen Paladin. Pleasure slaves granted all the privileges and favours of their station, yet always no more than slaves.

Whether in their masters deepest chamber or observing the field of battle; communing with his underlings or presiding over sacrificial rites, they are there. They lick, kiss, writhe and ride; they suck, service, bathe his Daemonic flesh and rub his throbbing members with lips, hands, breasts and feet.

Every inch of their supple bodies are given over to him, and every way in which they service him sets their Daemon-touched flesh alight with mutual pleasure.

For those that knew them, to hear or even see their total corruption and submission is a terrible thing. But even those who held these women dearest have found the memory of their names fading. For they are Kulrakan’s now, body and soul.

Kneeling before his throne, even now they each take one of his irresistible cocks between their lips, their bodies pressed close together: one head of scarlet hair and one of silver, bobbing in time, as their master looks over his works and his prize, and smiles.

- The End -