In the darkness

The moon put a leash on her and pulled her without a word. Without knowing more, Tisha, crushed by the power and terror the master of the place inspired in her, followed him.

They ended up in a giant room containing dozens of women like her, wearing collars. They were busy whipping, fucking, and degrading moaning submissives with dildos and other devices. How many were like her or like the soulless doll who had taken care of her?

The walls of the giant room seemed to close in on her, the air was heavy with the smell of bodies and fear. Tisha felt every glance directed at her, every stifled whisper circulating among the women. The Muun, still at her side, held her firmly on a leash, his touch cold and threatening. He led her toward the center of the room, where a raised platform dominated the room. He sat on a sort of throne that radiated darkness, the purest evil.

• Show me how you will honor our master when he returns. He pulled back his tunic and revealed a penis worthy of an equine.

While she remained speechless, the creature raised its hand, and Tisha felt a **** press against her throat, lifting her to a height where she no longer touched the ground.

• Obey, or you are of no use to the master.

Tisha, suspended in the air by an invisible ****, felt her gaze captured by the soulless eyes of the Muun. Every word he spoke echoed in her mind, a promise of eternal suffering that threatened to consume her.

The collar around her neck prickled, a constant reminder of her captivity. She tried to turn away, but her gaze remained fixed on her captor's, as if hypnotized by the abyss of darkness within. The Muun's breath was heavy and laden with a metallic odor that made her stomach ache.

• Please, I... I.

The pressure eased, and she lowered her face to the monstrous penis, as a **** approached with a whip.

Tisha's fingers trembled as she brought her face closer to the abomination looming before her. Every inch she moved was an internal struggle, as if her soul were struggling to keep from being swallowed up by the horror surrounding her. The metallic odor of the Muun's breath made her gasp, yet she felt a spark of resistance within her that refused to be extinguished.

The whip cracked, and pain seared her buttock cruelly. She had ****; the soulless doll could whip her to **** without regret if she didn't comply. She began to lick the penis.

Tisha's lips brushed against the cold, metallic skin, each moment a more unbearable **** than the last. The Muun's breath was a breath laden with threats, his piercing gaze pierced her soul like a blade.

The room around her seemed to fade, leaving only the echo of her own muffled sobs and the rustling of the other slaves' murmurs. Each stroke of the whip on her bare skin was a burn that rekindled the flame of rebellion within her, but the pressure of the collar reminded her of the reality of her submission.