His Sex

The chains about her wrists and ankles were of gold.

The heavy collar about her neck was studded with small defraudium gems.

She had not earned clothes. Not yet.

So in her gilded cage, Sue Storm lay on pink silk cushions, utterly naked.

When she was hungry, there was food. When she was thirsty, drink. Like a hamster in a cage, she wanted for nothing physically. When she was bored, a video screen provided any kind of porn she could name. Sex toys were available for the asking.

Yet she existed for a purpose. To sate Porkum's needs.

Sometimes, they seemed to be constant.

She would awake at night, in the darkness, to find her master stumble through the dark, reeking of nicotine and booze. Her body thrilled to his touch as she presented herself to him. Sometimes he wanted her ass in the air. Or on her back, with her legs spread. Or bouncing above him as he laid down, her body balanced on his as she pushed her body down onto his cock.

That prick became her whole universe. She loved his tongue on her holes, his sloppy drunken kisses, the way she trembled in his grip—but above all, she loved to feel that fierce, hot meat pierce her. Loved how helpless she was as he thrust deep inside of her, even when it hurt. The hot eruption of fresh jizz in her cunt would send her soul flying in a high that seemed to last hours sometimes...and as much as he would cum in her and then leave, so that she was exhausted and sore, her cunt leaking out, she would count the hours until her came again.

Time had no meaning in her apartment, where there was no clock to measure off the hours and days, only the growth of hair, the appearance of meals, safety razors to shave her legs and labia bare. Yet wasn't long before her pussy became a constant sloppy mess, always overflowing with his spunk. Dried rivulets clung to her legs as she moved about the small bedroom, which reeked of sex. She did her best to exercise, to keep in shape. Her mind seemed to dim, memories of her old life a strangely persistent ache, like an old wound.

Yet that life was over now. Her brain swam with Porkum's pheromones. His addictive ejaculate glazed her food. The Invisible Woman was lost in her subjugation, mental capacity diminished, her body slowly adapted to her life of vigorous sex and little else.

Was it strange that she felt happy, even as Porkum treated her as little more than his favorite cumrag? That she felt pathetic pleasure as she worshipped his cock and balls with her mouth, as he drunkenly patted her golden head? Sue Storm was so drenched in his psychoactive chemicals that she would fuck him until her pussy bled...and when her cunt needed a rest, she offered him her ass. There was no part of her body off-limits to his desires, no depth of depravity that she would not descend to.

"Master," she muttered, in a voice of utter adoration. "Please..."

Porkum, for his part, only smiled. His small dark eyes enjoyed the descent of the Invisible Woman from a veritable goddess among women to his cum-stained whore. Yet her enslavement was but part of a bigger plan, a bigger purpose. Sue Storm was only a tool for Doom's greater purpose.