Bad end: [F]uck her right in the purse-e

Gin reached for her sword, knowing it would be her only way out of this situation. It took a painful amount of stretching of her limbs but finally her had caught the hilt, wrapping her fingers around it with purpose. As she did, one of the tentacles coiling around her body passed her by and looped around, halting just by her lips. Something began to leak from its tip, precum dribbles of a pink fluid.

“Oh no,” was all she could mutter as her eyes stretched wide in horror. She knew what that pink fluid did. She tried to unsheathe her blade but it was too late. Like a viper the tentacle sprung at her, her lips offering little resistance as it **** its way into her throat. At first there was nothing, then she saw it. A large bulge began to work its way along the tentacle, making its way to the tip in her mouth before exploding within. Pink streams trickled down her nostrils and the sides of her lips.

She tried not to swallow, but what could she do, already spying two more bulges making their way towards her. Instinctively fighting off suffocation, Gin closed her eyes and swallowed, knowing well this was to be her end. Slowly, her fingers released their grip on the sword, her mind was on other things now.

It was funny, in a way. She had initially thought the fluid was like cum but that simply wasnt true. It was so much tastier than that. The next two eruptions were greeted eagerly, and soon Gin found herself guzzling the pink fluid with enthusiasm. The rest of the tentacles had now completely wrapped her form. The writhing tendrils were a welcome sensation, and she spread her legs like a wanton whore to allow them access to the rest of her holes, all the while continuing to drown in that pink goodness.

“Well that’s… kinda disappointing,” Belial remarked, standing over the defeated swordswoman. Gin didn’t hear her, lost in her own pleasure.

Now assured that its prey was willing, the tentacles continued to withdraw, dragging Gin into the purse, which had already been observed to be bigger on the inside. Somewhere along the way her clothes were torn off, and once inside her naked form was dropped into the hellscape within. Her last glimpse of natural light came with a dull gaze out the purse’s entrance.

Belial poked her head in to look one last time at the petty demise of her adversary, now just a plaything for the woman's pet. A single wink was all she gave Gin before standing back and sealing the purse shut.

Gin didn’t really care about that. She was more concerned about why the tentacles had stopped fucking her. She found herself in an area with pulsating red walls, kneehigh in a pit of that pink fluid. It felt as good to touch as it did to drink, and before long Gin was lathering her naked body with the stuff.

By the time she cared to examine her surroundings more thoroughly, she found she wasn’t wasn’t alone in here. Countless women lined the walls. No, not women. They had lost the right to be called as such. They were just moaning fuckholes now, moaning manically as each of their entrances were stuffed with tentacles.

Gin only felt one thing at the sight of them: utter envy. Why wasn’t she being fucked, she wondered, and scanned her surroundings for free tentacles. She found them not far from her. They seemed to be pointed at her, yet they made no motions towards her. They just waited there.

Eventually it occurred to her that they wanted her to come to them, the realising coming with a smile across her lips. Repositioning to her hands and knees, Gin slowly began to crawl towards them, ensuring her hips swayed seductively as she did. They must have liked the display, for they weren’t long in springing to life and coiling around her after that.

In seconds, Gin was reduced to the status of all the other fuckholes, as devoted to her own pleasure as she was to granting pleasure to the tentacles. Ecstasy had become tangible, physical, and its name was tentacle. Each of her holes were ravished, and within a few minutes she was inseparable from the rest. At this point, any of the women down here had the same claim to the name Gin as she did, as it was a name already forgotten to her.

Gin would never leave that purse, not that she ever wanted to. Her degrading fate was greeted with spread legs and parted lips, a fate she was so happy she succumbed to.