degraded as a flower pot

The florist’s shop sat on a quiet side street, its front overflowing with fresh blooms and the sweet, heavy scent of roses and Cecilia. Eula stepped inside with the leash still coiled in her hand and the soft, wet sound of fresh cum already trailing down her inner thighs.

The shopkeeper, a broad-shouldered man in his forties who had known the Lawrence name since before it became a joke, looked up from arranging a bouquet and smiled the same easy smile everyone in Mondstadt now gave her.

“Morning, Eula. Jean’s usual weekly arrangement?”

“Yes, Sir. White lilies, Cecilia, and the blue ones she likes.”

He nodded, then casually crooked a finger. “Come here first. Hands on the counter.”

Eula obeyed at once, stepping behind the low wooden counter, planting her palms on the smooth surface, and arching her back so her open uniform and dripping cunt were perfectly presented. The shopkeeper simply lifted her short skirt the rest of the way, pushed the still-buzzing plug a little deeper, and sank his thick cock into her in one slow thrust.

Eula moaned openly, pushing back to take every inch.

“Thank you for using me, Sir…”

He fucked her with unhurried, deep strokes while he continued selecting flowers with one hand, chatting about the weather and the upcoming delivery schedule as though he weren’t currently breeding the former Spindrift Knight over his work counter. The wet, filthy sounds of her soaked pussy filled the small shop. A pair of regular customers walked in, saw the familiar blue hair and the rhythmic rocking of Eula’s hips, and simply waited their turn with mild amusement.

The first customer took her mouth while the shopkeeper finished inside her with a low grunt, flooding her womb yet again. The second bent her over a display table of potted plants and used her still-clenching cunt while the shopkeeper calmly tied the weekly bouquet. By the time a third man—a delivery runner who had only come for a single rose—decided he might as well take a turn as well, Eula’s eyes had already started to glaze.

They did not stop.

Word that the Traveler’s broken knight was at the florist’s spread the way it always did: quickly and without urgency. Within twenty minutes the small shop held half a dozen men. They took her in shifts. One in her pussy, one in her throat, hands groping her heavy tits and occasionally giving the plug a firm twist. Eula thanked every single one in the same soft, grateful voice, hips rolling eagerly to meet every thrust, tongue out and eager whenever a cock approached her lips.

The overload hit her the way it always did when too many loads landed too quickly.

Her usual glassy obedience deepened into the familiar fucked-stupid haze. Eyes half-lidded and unfocused, mouth hanging open, a constant thin line of drool mixing with the cum on her chin. Her pussy kept twitching and leaking even when empty, clenching on air as though still trying to milk the last cock that had left her. She stopped forming full sentences. Only soft, needy little sounds remained—wordless thanks and hungry whimpers.

The shopkeeper looked at the state of her, chuckled, and made a practical decision.

He guided the unresisting knight onto her back across the main display table, legs spread wide and held open by two helpful customers. Then he began using her gaping, cum-flooded pussy as a living bouquet stand.

Fresh-cut stems were carefully inserted alongside the thick plugs of seed already overflowing her. White lilies, soft Cecilia, and the blue flowers Jean preferred were arranged upright in her stretched cunt, the petals resting against her lower belly and the insides of her thighs. Every time someone new stepped up to fuck her, the flowers jostled and swayed. Some stems were pushed deeper by the next cock; others were pulled out, used to slap wetly against her clit, then reinserted. Eula only moaned brokenly, hips giving weak little rolls, completely lost in the haze.

They kept her like that for nearly an hour.

Customers came and went. Some bought flowers. Some simply used the arrangement. A few took the time to add their own load to the growing mess inside her before rearranging the stems so the bouquet looked presentable again. Eula’s belly had a soft, rounded look from the sheer volume. Her expression never left that empty, blissed-out smile.

Only when the midday rush slowed did the shopkeeper finally remove the flowers, wipe the worst of the mess from her thighs with a clean cloth, and help her sit up. Eula blinked slowly, still floating, but the core obedience cut through the fog the moment he spoke.

“Can you stand, girl?”

“…Yes, Sir.” Her voice was thick and slurred. “Thank you for using me so much…”

He pressed the finished bouquet into her arms, clipped the leash back into her hand, and gave her a fond pat on the ass.

“Off you go. Blacksmith’s next, yeah? Try not to take all afternoon.”

Eula nodded, still leaking steadily, and stepped back out into the sunlight on unsteady legs. The bouquet rested against her chest. Fresh cum continued to run down both thighs with every step. The plug buzzed low and constant. Her pussy ached in the best way—used, open, and already hungry again.

She made it to the blacksmith.

Barely.

Three more men took her against the forge wall before she could even deliver Jean’s request for the repaired fittings. One of them bent her over an anvil and bred her so thoroughly that she came twice in quick succession, moaning loud enough to draw laughter from the apprentices. She thanked them all, collected the wrapped fittings with trembling hands, and continued toward the market with the same soft, eager smile.

The market delayed her another two hours.

By the time she finally reached the cathedral for Rosaria’s sealed report, the sun was already lowering. Rosaria took one look at the walking mess of a knight, smirked, used her throat against a pillar for a few efficient minutes, then handed over the report and sent her on her way with a slap to her cum-smeared ass.

Eula returned to headquarters long after the afternoon meetings had ended. Jean simply looked her over, noted the state of her—belly soft, thighs shiny, eyes still carrying the leftover haze—and pointed to the floor beside her desk.

“Under. Stay.”

Eula crawled into place without a word, rested her cheek against Jean’s thigh again, and stayed there while the Acting Grand Master finished the remaining paperwork. Occasionally Jean would idly grind against her face or feed her a few slow fingers. Eula licked and sucked with the same devoted hunger she gave everything now.

Evening came.

A small street festival had been arranged in the main plaza—nothing grand, just lanterns, food stalls, music, and the usual open atmosphere Mondstadt preferred. Jean decided Eula would attend as an attraction rather than a companion.

They prepared her in the headquarters courtyard as the first lanterns were lit.

Eula was stripped of the last scraps of her uniform. A sturdy wooden frame had been brought out—part of the festival decorations, modified for exactly this purpose. She was bent forward over a padded bar at waist height, wrists and ankles secured with soft but unyielding leather cuffs so she could neither close her legs nor rise. A thick blindfold covered her eyes completely. The ring gag was locked back into place, holding her mouth open and ready. The plug in her ass was exchanged for a larger one that vibrated on a higher, irregular pattern. A short sign hung from a chain around her neck, resting between her heavy breasts:

Festival Attraction

Free Use

Breed as you like – she will thank you

Jean clipped a small bell to each of Eula’s nipples so every movement would announce her, then gave the blindfolded knight one last stroke of her hair.

“You will stay here until the festival ends. You will accept everyone. You will not try to see who uses you. When someone finishes inside you, thank them. When your mouth is empty, keep it open. Clear?”

Eula’s answer was immediate, muffled around the gag, and thick with genuine, cock-hungry eagerness that still never once crossed into disobedience.

“Yesh, Mishtress… Thank you for letting me serve…”

Jean left her there as the first festival-goers began to fill the plaza.

The night air was cool against Eula’s bare skin. She could hear laughter, music, the clink of glasses, and the growing murmur of people noticing the bound, blindfolded knight on display. She could feel the first curious hands already sliding over her ass, testing the give of her plugged hole, spreading her soaked cunt open for inspection.

She pushed back into the touch with a soft, needy sound, completely unable to see who would use her first—only knowing that she would take it, thank them, and stay exactly where she had been placed until she was told otherwise.