The Gallery

“Mmm…” Baroness says, maybe a bit grudgingly. She turns off and leads you out of the dungeon, and down a long hallway. Tall portraits line the hall, as well as several of images of combat. “This is my gallery,” says proudly. “From my earliest recorded ancestor…” She motions to an indeed dated-looking painting, a white-haired and bearded man in regal attire and robes. He had a barely dressed woman laid at the feet of his throne and a pair of women under his arms, one looking awfully young.
“To my latest family. It’s here that our disputes were recorded in the last decade or so.” She motions to a painting of a large man with something of a pot belly. He holds a woman over his shoulder with cum dripping out her pussy, a large bulge in his pants. The woman looked ****, but a large smile on her face.
“My father Earl. Shortly after he wed my mother Diana. They feuded for domination in the relationship, and my father bested her easily.” She smiled and moved on.
“Until a few years later.” The next portrait showed the woman straddling the man, her eye bruised but looking vicious. She looked far more toned, firm abs and muscles compared to the first picture as she bared her teeth, nails digging into the man’s cock as he wore a ball gag and shoved his face into the floor. “She unleashed terrible vengeance on him that night. I was never prouder. That was quite a feat, I’d like to remind you, since that was supposedly the night I was conceived.”

A young man, probably barely legal, stood with his foot on a middle-aged man’s limp and swollen genitals. The older man looked totally beaten and had his hands raised for mercy.
“My cousin Duke overcoming my Uncle Chester. He was unfit to even stop his own kin. A worthless little man, and Duke owns him to this day, as I recall. Personal ****. Not certain if he is a sexual one though. May simply be a silly ‘alpha male’ ownership thing.”
She went past a portrait of herself, as well as two other women of similar complexion. One was a redhaired woman with perfectly round breasts not quite as big as the Baroness’. The second was the Baroness herself in regal wear, and the last was a woman with enormous breasts, possibly as big or bigger than Mama Luv’s. Black hair hung long over her body, brushed out over her breasts at parts.

“My sisters. Ruby and Pearl. Triplets, wouldn‘t you know?” Baroness explained. She motioned to a painting of the three of them, though noticeably younger. They were each wearing torn dresses, and seemed in the process of ripping them off each other. “When we turned 16, we were expected to duel for superiority. I naturally won,,” she added, motioning towards a next painting.

It showed Baroness sitting on one knee, the other raised to support the redheaded woman (Rose, you suspect) on it. She was weeping visibly, clutching her breast with one hand as three heavily bleeding marks went down her right tit. Her pussy looked pulverized, and she had a bit of missing hair noticeable on her scalp. Baroness grinned over her shoulder, letting her tongue run tauntingly up her victim’s neck and twisting a bloody nipple between two fingers.
“I was so pleased with myself I thought I’d get an after shot.”

A portrait was after that, with the woman looking miserable and downtrodden. She sat on a stool and was nude, three fresh scars running down her breast. Her hair had grown back into shape, though was cut shorter, probably to hide it better. She also had a scar running up her from her pussy to near her navel.

“You uh… you have a very good painter.”
She nods. “Very good eye. He works quickly for how skilled he is. He is lucky for this, because we can’t dream of hurting him so long as he serves our family so well or we would hamper his skills.”
“So… is there another painting of you and Pearl?” you ask. Baroness frowns back at you.
“Mind your tongue, whelp,” she spits in warning.