Dagul Pulls Out

I'm still reeling from the pounding Dagul just gave me. My body is covered in his seed, the sticky fluid clinging to every curve and crevice. I can feel it dripping down my face, matting my hair.

But even through the haze of exhaustion and pain, I can't deny the twisted pleasure that courses through me. The way Dagul used me, treating me like nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure, it ignited something primal within me.

He twists my hair around his fist, wrenching my head back as he slaps my ass hard enough to leave a handprint. "What did I tell you before, slut?" he growls. "I can plant my seed wherever I want."

And then he's inside me again, his massive cock stretching my asshole to its limits. The pain is blinding, searing, but it quickly gives way to a dark, consuming pleasure. I can't help but moan, my voice echoing through the empty room.

He fucks me with a brutal intensity, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. I'm panting, begging for more, lost in a fog of lust and humiliation. Just as I think I can't take anymore, he pulls out and slams me face-first into the ground.

"Get ready for my seed, whore!" he snarls, and then he's cumming, painting my back and ass with thick ropes of hot semen. I lie there as he grinds against me, marking me, claiming me.

When he's finally finished, I'm covered head to toe in his spunk. It drips into my hair, pools in the small of my back. I'm a mess, a dirty slut, and I know it.

"Don't fool yourself, elf," Dagul says, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing but a whore, and I knew it from the moment I saw you. You crave this, need it. Don't try to deny it."

I'm trembling, unsure if it's from the cold or the shame. But deep down, I know he's right. I am a whore, a slut, and I'll never be anything else. And the thought of belonging to him, being his personal plaything... it excites me in ways I can't even begin to understand.