A Show of Anal Submission

"Myrce, come here."

Lunnara's voice sounded full of authority, more like her common self instead of the softened version that she usually show in front of Karla, it sounded with a hint of animalistic rage, of brutish possessiveness and lust. She desires me. Myrce thought full of joy, proud of her unrivalled slutiness.

"Yes, mommy!" She sang more than said. The luscious blonde descended from the queen's rump with a jump and turned around to see the sorceress. Lunnara was sitting with her legs spread, her skirts gone and her cock proudly in view and reaching for the skies, but hers was not a common chair anymore. She was sitting on the throne as the queen was on the royal floor, a few steps beneath her. Karla did not protest, she didn't seem to notice the breaking of the illusion.

Myrce knew what her mommy wanted of her, to make a show, a spectacle for the queen's eyes and ears, and she was not going to disappoint her wishes. She sat on top of Lunnara as if her flesh was a throne of her own, looking also in the direction on the queen, her legs full spread, showing off her glistering silk-covered pussy and her pulsating, ready-to-be-used asshole. The Sorceress lifted her up by the legs and then lowered her push body over her disproportionated cock. Her legs remained fully spread so that the queen could see every detail of the brutal penetration.

Karla was on the floor, fingering her pussy at a demonic pace, all pretense of her royal demeanour abandoned.

Myrce felt the engorged tip poking at her rear entrance, impatient, eager to invade her inner self once again. She felt tears fighting to abandon her eyes, wanting to feel it again, but Lunnara wanted not her pleasure but her ultimate submission, as always. The elf whispered in the farmgirl's ear. "Go on, my child. You are to become the high priestess of this castle, and the queen needs to consider you for that position. This is your audition, even if she herself doesn't know it yet. Go on: preach."

The little slut was quick to obey. "I want to feel it! I need it! Please mommy, have I not been a good girl? Do I not deserve to be pumped full of your cum? Where would you deposit it if not in my depths, where I can keep it warm? Please, mommy mine, my dear and beautiful mistress, my ass is willing, I pray for you to break it."

The sorceress started to lower the little minx, her tip making a sweet pressure on her rear, but still not crossing it.

"I feel it! I feel it! Oooh, but why is it so shy? Have I not proved to be worthy of housing it? I feel it's tip, but I want it all, I want it now. Don't tease me to ease the pain, mommy: I want the pain. I love when you make me scream. I want my body to shatter for you, around you. Break me, mommy, you know I can stand it."

Karla had been crawling slowly, with lousy and uncoordinated steps, closer and closer to the spectacle. Her eyes glued to the point of union, to see exactly the moment of the penetration and Lunnara **** her little painslut to wait for her royal audience to be close to touch.

When she lowered her, though, she did it in one move. Karla was close enough then, and she saw the pillar of flesh disappear in a swift motion, right before her, like another magic trick, entering the cavernous chambers of the girl, making her scream in painful delight. She left her there, utterly stuffed, full of possessive meat.

"Am I confortable, mommy? Is your cock warm enough?" Said Myrce."Tell me that it is warm, tell me it feels cozy and comfy, for my ass is its home. Let me jump, mommy. Let me jump and sing for you."

Lunnara lifted her hands from the girl's thighs, and so she knew that she was free to express her passion. Never did the elf fucked the little Myrce as ruthlessly as when she fucked herself, no cruelty of Kar-Naggrond can equal the passion of a slut who actually wants the pain. The farmgirl jumped with fury, slapping her reddened ass against the sorceress thighs, forcing her cock in and out of her own ass, like rebels stabbing the heart of a tyrant, their hands directed by militant righteousness. Showing the queen before her how a real slut takes it, making it clear that she would never be as devoted, as deranged or whorish as she, that no woman would ever be. She jumped and jumped over her mistress and no more words came out of her, only a symphony of moans and delighted screams, barely coordinated, but beautiful. That was all that was left to say for her. A constant image of deranged passion was imprinted on the girl's face, her eyes gone and unfocused, her tongue out and sloppy, her mouth drooling and open in a perpetual smile.

Karla watched, close, really close. Her face at mere centimetres of the brutality, the piston-like sound of squishy flesh playing before her, a private concerto for her royal grace, she too opened her mouth and her tongue hanged, but still with no purppose, she dared not to use that tongue. The girl kept jumping and jumping, inserting and extracting almost the full extension of that glorious meat monolith. She watched closely, and feel the most unexpected envy, the most uninvited need. What would it feel like to be this debased? What would it feel like to be fuck there, in that forbidden hole, with such cruelty?

At some point, the pressure was too much. She saw the cock contracting, pulsating with unnatural strength and heard Myrce cry in delight as the cum began to fill it. The little painslut began to shake and her mother had to held her for her not to fall. She heard the squishy sound of the girl's orgams, and saw the silk covering her pussy getting wet, she instinctively opened her mouth to catch the holy liquid, but the silk absorbed it all and not a single drop fell. Nonetheless, her willingness to be feed was soon rewarded.

Lunnara lifted the little Myrce once again, with arms too strong for such a lithe frame. The girl protested when the cock abandoned her entrails but it was only a meek protest. She lifted the blonde's body, legs still spread, over the kneeled queen. Karla acted on what she believed to be instinct, and opened her mouth fully when the anus lingered just above her. The creamy nectar began to fall over her like a ritual offering, directly to her willing mouth, in all its white glory: it was copious, it rained over her, and she eat it all without protest. The queen felt her eyes close in delight, her body shake at the taste of the invading nectar, it taste so good, it tasted so right...

It tasted... just like milk.