Another interruption.

Another sailor approached you across the rolling deck and undid his breaches. “Make yourself ready for brolling bitch,” he ordered, looking you keenly in the eye. Instinctively you turned yourself about, pressing against the bars to allow him access. You sighed as you felt his firm manhood enter you warm tight pussy. His hands gripped your rounded ass possessively as he slid in and out of your throbbing cunt.

This was how soldiers treated a foe that had become a serum girl. The Lord no longer existed. None of them would respectfully acknowledge your former status, if they did it was to ridicule you. It was their duty to disabuse you of the notion you were anything but a harlot.

You had done the same yourself for others turned into serum girls, but had never considered that this might be your fate. Especially since you were a lord. You groaned desperately as you felt your pussy throb with an approaching orgasm. This was already becoming second nature to you. “Good girl,” noted the man.

“Yes,” you moaned.

He slid out of your moist pussy and pressed against your anus, his large head sliding inside slowly as you gasped. “Do you like that?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes.” You said uncertainly.

“Yes what?” he gripped the chain at your neck and pulled.

“Yes ... master,” you gasped, struggling with your newfound submissiveness and the urges of the lust potion.

“Good girl,” he said as he thrust into you and began to ball your arse.

You were rapidly becoming an insatiable little serum girl and you knew it.

He man fondled your overlarge breasts which bounced with each thrust. Herbs of fullness had taken your newly acquired slim curves to rounded voluptuousness. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, very aware of the power this man had over you, that made you abandon all restraint.

He grunted as he came in you. Your eyes clenched shut and you whimpered as surpassing waves of pleasure swelled within you. He pulled free, jism dribbling from your tight little ass hole.

“Say thank you sir.” He prompted you.

“Thank you sir,” for some reason the words still felt wrong to you.

“You’re welcome. Now lick it clean,” he said, a compelling authority to his voice.