II – Goddess’ Hand

In the frigid void, picking its way through the still smoldering wreckage of three enemy warships, the massive, black shape of the CTDD’s flagship stalked the outer rim of the Sol System. The Via Imperator had dispatched the enemy ships with brutal efficiency, sending a clear message that humanity was not yet out of the fight.

Recalling its squadrons of void-capable fighter-bombers, reloading its devastating lance-batteries and recharging its shields, the flagship did a final deep-scan to make sure the sector was clear of alien filth before the main engines spooled.

Once the Via Imperator linked up with the rest of the scattered CTDD flotilla, and the super-heavy vessels returned from the patrol in the Arcturus stream – the battleships Master of Fate, Regem Bellum and Black Aegis – the CTDD Navy would teach the alien aggressors a lesson they would not soon forget.

Nor soon recover from.

Kyrah was – her pointy ears filled with the delicious sounds of a desperate slave climaxing more than she could handle – taking a moment to examine her new buck. Her fingers were trailing the length and width of his cock, tracing the veins and delighting in its pulsing. Straining and as hard as it could be, a little streak of cum still adorned the underside of the spongy-tip. Kyrah scooped it up with a finger and licked it off, sighing in delight.

So far, she was certain that she would keep her new pair of slaves. The slave-transporters did not know what kinds of slaves their clients preferred other than very basic information, so there was always a chance that someone would wind up disappointed with what was delivered. Of course, they merely had to exchange the salves.

Kyrah, on her hand, was very pleased with the new pair in her collection. The female had a scrumptious, fit body that responded very well to forced stimulation, and her begging groans were oh-so delicious. She wondered how long she could keep this mare climaxing before she passed out from hypersensitivity. She aimed to find out.

The male as well, was perfect. His body was pleasing to the eye, his manhood was of decent size – his species taken into consideration – and the taste of his seed was just what she wanted. What she needed.

Kyrah was loathe to call herself an addict, but that was exactly what she was. She needed semen to function properly. The past couple of months had been bad, especially when the semen-reserves that had been machine-milked from her last male had run dry.

Now, though, finally, she had another stallion, one that would feed her as often as she needed.

However, having his semen harvested was but one of the male’s responsibilities aboard the Goddess’ Hand. Kyrah took great sexual pleasure in forcing her other female slaves to mate with the male, and at times she would secure him to her own bed and do to him whatever she desired.

For now, however, she would prioritize getting his body functioning properly. She gripped her slave’s testicles and squeezed them a little harder than when she had stroked the cock, as if feeling for something, giggling ominously at his pained grunt. While the male had been brought aboard the Goddess’ Hand, unconscious from the surface of the planet, Kyrah’s bioengineer had gone to work on him.

She had, using non-invasive beam-tech, altered the male’s physique where it was needed. Most of the changes made to him concerned his ability to produce semen and ejaculate it. First of all, his manhood had been altered so that it could remain erect indefinitely without harm. Secondly, his testicular and prostate glands had been “upgraded” to set sperm-production into overdrive. Thirdly, his orgasms would feel far more powerful, and before long, he would be a slave to the sensations to make him more amiable for prolonged milking-sessions.

However, Kyrah had suspected, like many species, humans became ultra-sensitive after climaxing, and had chosen not to remove that from their physiology. After all, gagged, begging slaves were the sweetest music to hear ears, and besides, the enjoyment of the slaves were of little concern to her. If her slaves passed out from her relentless stimulation of their genitals, all the better.

Other changes that had been done to him included removing the chance of cardiac arrest due to “overmilking” – something that had killed many other male slaves, which the bioengineer had discovered by chance could be altered in a human – removing the risks of disease from living in an artificial atmosphere tailored to Thelluloid needs, and cutting the amount he needed to sleep in order to function properly nearly in half.

All in all, her new male had a good chance of surviving for a very long time as Kyrah’s new sperm-factory.

The female, too, had had her body changed for the better. Like the male she had had the chance of cardiac-arrest removed, had her immune-system altered to the new atmosphere, and shortened the need for sleep. But there were also changes made that were tailored to her female physiology.

Her nipples, clitoris and vagina were tuned to be more than twice as sensitive than normal, her ticklish spots had been made even more ticklish, and both clitoral and vaginal orgasms would be twice as powerful.

Both of them had also had all bodily hair below their necks permanently removed, ensuring smooth and aesthetically pleasing bodies for all time. The final thing done to them both was severely reduce their need for water and sustenance. Like all other slaves in the Goddess’ Hand, the humans were now optimally tuned for their new roles in life.

Still, the changes needed some time to work at the intended capacity. That much was clear by the human’s output from one orgasm. He had filled half a glass, when ideally he should be able to fill one and a half glasses with every ejaculation. His prostate most likely needed to be stimulated for a good while for it to achieve peak capacity, and Kyrah decided she would let her slave-trainer take care of that later.

For now, Kyrah needed to satisfy her ravenous hunger.

She wrapped her large hand over his lube-coated length, the other hand massaging the testicles to urge the changes in them to take full effect. The human had no idea what had been done to his body, but he would figure it out in time, when Kyrah decided to let him know. Let him know that he had been perfected for milking.

He grunted when she started stroking him again. Kyrah had noted that he had been starring at her exposed breasts while she had inspected his post-orgasmic cock. He clearly approved, despite his situation, and Kyrah made a mental note of it. When the time came to make him mate with other slaves, rewarding the stallion with mares who had bodies he fancied more was a good strategy to ensure long-term obedience.

It was a good thing the slave seemed to like breasts, nonetheless. For Kyrah loved having her nipples sucked.

Delighting in the wet sounds made by the lube as she stroked, hard, Kyrah was treated to yet another scream from the female, once again forced to an incredibly powerful forced orgasm. She looked over her shoulder to see how she was doing.

Her eyes were shut tight, tears streaking down her face, mixing with the drool from the ball-gag in her mouth, the moisture dripping off her chin to run between her breasts. The mechanical tentacles latched onto her nipples sucked hard, little faux tongues inside the mouths working the nipples expertly, the excess lubrication escaping the vacuum to run down the curvature of her mammaries.

The vibrators working her pussy and ass were probing her quickly, lubrication spattering on her inner thighs, and every time she orgasmed, the machines automatically increased their speed with one point. She was currently at twelve, meaning she had just climaxed for the eleventh time. The record for the amount a slave had orgasmed in a single session before passing out was an impressive one-hundred and fifty-eight. The average amount of orgasms for a slave’s first time, like the human mare now, was sixteen. She hoped the human female would be above average.

Kyrah turned her attention back to her new milking-stallion. He was sweating and trembling, his cock still sensitive from the last orgasm. She loved the involuntary submissive look on his face. She was curious how it would look when he was hooked up to a proper milking-machine, worked past his sanity.

Ahh, new slaves are always so interesting to learn, she thought with an evil grin, pumping his hard and warm manhood faster.

She let go off his balls when they tightened up against his body as much as they could, and massaged and kneaded her breasts as she jerked him off. Pinching her hard nipples made her sigh with that delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and her loins were burning so hot she had to restrain herself not to stick the hand between her thighs.

She looked his athletic body up and down, biting her lip in lust. She cared for every single one of her possessions, but the human male was very intriguing to her. The skin-tone, the muscles, the cock, the way he shivered at her touch.

Yes, she cared for all her slaves, but the single male was special. He was the source of what she craved insatiably, and he was the provider of her wicked entertainment.

Just thinking about it made her hand work his cockhead harder, which made him shiver and shake in his bonds even more.

“You have more for me, I hope?” she asked innocently. Of course he had. Not as much as she wanted, but the amounts would come with training. His begging expression and shuddering moans were beautiful to her.

“Be proud,” she had to raise her voice slightly over his gagged groans when she worked his sensitive tip even harder. “You are the property of the one and only Kyrah, and that means you get the pleasure of my company, my techniques and my desires for as long as you are aboard the Goddess’ Hand.”

Which I hope will be indefinitely, she added in her mind.

Kayven, seeing flashes of lightning before his eyes from the overstimulation of his hypersensitive cock, barely heard the alien’s words. He was skyrocketing towards a second, forced orgasm, and he had no idea how it was possible. He had cum just a few minutes ago, but already the huge, blue woman was going to make him cum again, her large hand working his pulsing rod too effectively.

Biting down on the gag as his mind seemed to momentarily switch off, he came again, shooting another load into a waiting glass held by the alien. He screamed and shook, hardly moving at all in his strange bonds, the second forced orgasm wreaking him from within, sensations too powerful to describe radiating from his cock and all the way out to each individual finger and toe, then back again.

Panting, fighting to stay conscious, he managed to keep his eyes open to look at the glass. It was nearly half of what he had produced the first time, but even so it was far more than any one man should be able to shoot in one orgasm. The alien looked disapprovingly at him, but when her purple eyes shifted to the thick, gooey liquid in the glass, they changed into something like…

Adoration?

Once again she drank everything Kayven had ejaculated, a string of sticky cum running down her chin.

When the orgasm disippated, he noticed she was still gripping him, still stroking, although mercifully slower than what she had been.

“Orgasmic,” Kyrah commented on the taste, licking her lips but failing to get every drop that stained them. “But you need to give me more than that, my pet.”

Further down the room, Tara climaxed yet again, her screams now noticeably more tired than before.

The proverbial bloodied nose visited upon the Independent Scandian Assault Regiment had nearly smashed their face in. The unit was hurt, burnt, but still in the fight. ISAR still retained around seventy percent of their forces, and most of the heavy weapons-platforms and fighting machines were still operational. This did not alleviate the losses they had taken.

When the aliens had launched a coordinated attack all along the line, it had taken the ISAR defenders by complete surprise. Under a hailstorm of alien plasma-fire, soldiers had died in the dozens, vehicles cooking from within.

It was immediately clear to ISAR command that the regiment could not hold their position and, executing one of the finer fighting retreats in modern history, reformed their line five kilometres away. They bandaged up those who needed it, evacuated those who could no longer fight, mended their vehicles as best they could, and supplied the men with ammunition.

Casualties were high. Numbers were unconfirmed as most had to be left at the regiment’s previous positions, but there were at least twenty-two dead, and in total, fifty-five missing, most presumed killed.

All over Earth the aliens were gaining more ground, but at least now the humans, the rightful people of the planet, had dug their heels in deep and were selling additional soil at extreme cost to the invaders.

The news of the CTDD’s flagship, the Via Imperator, and its victory against several alien vessels had rekindled morale, and all boots on Earth knew once the Navy reformed and returned to Earth, the aliens would be hard-pressed to retain their currently indefatigable advances.

ISAR, and all other forces engaged in heavy fighting all over the globe, just needed to hold on for dear life.

The boy’s hysterical groans that were mixed with laughter at the relentless stimulations visited upon his overworked cockhead was only spurring Kyrah on to even harder stroking. Having looked into his captive’s eyes – though they were closed a lot – while she drained his balls had made her decide that he fit the label “boy” more than anything else. Mostly because the word carried with it such a lovely distinction of inferiority to her, yet inferiority in a familiar, endearing way.

His last orgasm had produced only a few, pitiful drops, but she had consumed them with the same gusto nonetheless. His taste was intoxicating, and her addiction only seemed to grow the more she ingested. She did not stop stroking him, though, his shuddering moans were too pleasurable to her ears, and made her even wetter than she already was.

Her chin, the slopes of her breasts, the fingers of her stroking-hand, the thigh closest to the slave’s manhood and the sides of her glasses were stained and smeared with cum. She took her time scooping it all up when it was clear additional orgasms would not yield her any more.

Good to the last drop, at any rate.

Kayven’s balls seemed like they were on fire. He had never cum that many times in a week, let alone a single day. The alien-woman never stopped stroking him, if anything his pleading groans made her go even harder on his stinging cockhead. His jaws had been clamping down on the gag with all their might for so long he was convinced his teeth had left permanent indentations on it.

He was sweating profoundly all over. His heart was hammering in his chest. His breathing was ragged. When the alien, Kyrah, finally removed her hand, his head sagged forwards, letting out a weary, trembling sigh. He remained prominently erect before her, showing no signs of shrinking even though it desperately wanted to, his ballsack tight up against him.

The woman ate every single drop of cum he had shot, cleaning herself and the three hovering goblets. Her hands reached up to those ridiculously huge breasts, fingers twisting her hardened nipples as she looked lustfully at him.

My God she is immense, he thought as some kind of control returned to his overstimulated body. Each of her boobs were probably just larger than his head. Despite her huge form, there was nothing unfeminine about it. She was gorgeous in every way. If not for the horns, she might have appeared as a goddess of lust.

But despite her sensual, scantily clad body, she was his captor, and had just tortured him through consecutive orgasms, heedless of his pleads and begs.

He cast a look over at Tara, suddenly aware of her presence again. She had stopped shrieking a while ago. She was still conscious, still being worked all over, but her head lolled forwards, her long hair covering her breasts still being sucked by the tentacles. A river of tears and drool ran down her chin, down her fit body, and her inner thighs were equally soaked, the large, mechanical dildos still probing her depths.

Kayven realized he should be more disturbed seeing Tara naked, a woman he had worked with for five years and whom he loved like a sister. But, at present, he had bigger concerns than worrying about Tara’s modesty.

She was breathing heavily, and looking at her made Kayven aware of his own pitiful state. He could feel cold drool on his chin and chest, his body hot all over and drenched in perspiration. Kyrah looked like she liked seeing him like he was. She was sitting so very regally in her crimson, armless chair, legs crossed, prominent chest pushed out towards him as if inviting him to touch them.

His arms, hanging by the metal rings suspended by the quiet lighting, were very tired, and he realized his fists were still clenched uncomfortably tight. Letting them relax was nearly enough to make him groan again, but in relief.

He jerked when Kyrah caught one of his nipples between a thumb and forefinger, rolling it playfully between them, her other hand back on his balls, massaging them lovingly.

“You do have the sweetest milk, my boy.” She dismissed the levitating glasses around her with a mere look. “But you need to get sperm-production up to nominal levels if I am to get what I want from you every day.”

Every day! He felt panic starting to rise in his throat again. She was going to do this to him every day?

“Good thing I have one of the Empire’s finest slave-traders in my employ, then. She will make sure I get all I need from you.” She put her face so close to his she could stick out her tongue and lick his gag, capturing his gaze with her luminescent eyes. Her breasts pushed against him, and she loved feeling her hard nipples scraping against his skin as she delicately placed her hands on his hips.

“Ooh my boy,” she whispered sensually. “I will milk you so hard for every drop, every day. And you will have no choice but to learn to love it.”

She stood up, looming over Kayven as though to redefine just how much larger she was than him. Looking down at him, she stroked her fingers through his hair, caressing him, then walked over to the shaking form still being fucked senselessly.

Kayven’s mind was racing. Dread had seized his soul. He had no doubts that his alien captor meant every word.

Aboard her command-vessel, the Everlasting Fury, the commander of the Axxchin Strike Force sat, ever resplendent, in her throne on the bridge, surveying all of the thousands of pieces of data scrolling over the bridge’s massive HUD. The battle for the planet locally called “Earth”, a rather unimaginative name, was proceeding favourably, but the humans were putting up an impressive fight for such a young society. Still, it was nothing the Thelluloid Empire could not deal with.

High Executrix Zheya drummed her fingertips on the semi-hard leather of the armrest of her grand throne that was more machine than furniture. Like the majority of the Axxchin Strike Force, she was Ar’a.

Blue of skin and shining gold of eyes with thin slits for pupils, she was clad in her ceremonial naval combat armour. The crimson suit was capable of stopping most light to medium beam-weaponry, but untested against the human projectile weapons. It was form-fitting and quite thin for body-armour, but Zheya was not concerned about having her ship boarded. The remnants of the human fleets were scattered to the solar winds, hunted by smaller, faster vessels that would harass and otherwise keep them busy.

The suit was so form-fitting it was close to being designated as a bodyglove, and it did nothing to hide the High Executrix’s sublime form. The red armour curved sensually over her large chest, tightened so much over her belly as to accentuate every single abdominal muscle, and clung to her waist so tight as not to add a single inch to its width. Her broad hips and thick thighs were equally squeezed by the suit, the legs ending in high-heeled boots with pointy ends that could skewer an unprotected person with even a modest kick.

Her dark, purple tresses hung freely from her head, spilling over her shoulders and resting against the upper curves of her armoured bosom. Her thick, black, curved horns were painted with gold spirals demanded of one whose standing was as high as hers, and long, slender chains of exquisite silver hung from the three gold bands piercing each of her pointy ears. A slender, azure circlet with black bands adorned her forehead, a single gem hanging from a delicate band at its centre just above her brow.

Being a creature who delighted in ornamenting herself, each of her fingers – apart from the thumbs – held one or two precious rings each, many set with more than a few tiny, expensive stones. A golden, twisting ring pierced her right nostril, and despite not being naked, her command staff could all behold the pointed barbells spearing through her nipples, visible through the thin, tight armour. Also visible through her protection was a bump representing a white-gold chain that cost more than a common soldier made in a year which ornamented her belly-button.

“Deploy general Harash’s force reinforce general Ayashe in the north,” her melodically commanding voice was heard by all even over the constant chatter and machine-clanking. “The humans there are interfering with the airspace needed for our slave-transports.”

A career officer, having known nothing but war and victory for the five centuries she had lived, Zheya found a certain serenity in the chaos of command and battle most other officers never experienced. She was in her element, passing on orders, making decisions, all whilst appearing to be the very epicentre of calm and assuredness.

Of course, she did not strive to command a vessel of her own to forego a share of the plunder. The Everlasting Fury had netted her more money than she could ever hope to spend, but like all wealthy citizens of the everlasting Thelluloid Empire, the true rewards for her victories were slaves.

And she was very interested in getting her hands on her first human. Of course, by the end of it, whatever human she took might no longer possess a beating heart, but she never doomed a slave before deciding whether it was worth keeping or not.

She was quite aware that Kyrah, one of the Empire’s wealthiest aristocrats in her retrofitted Exelles strike cruiser – the Goddess’ Hand – had an appetite for slaves that bordered on the ludicrous, but she had invested a lot of money in the Empire’s armed forces, so Zheya had no choice but to indulge the eccentric woman.

Zheya had already been informed that the first two human slaves had been delivered to the Goddess’ Hand as agreed, but there had come no request from Kyrah to have the slaves exchanged yet. Either it meant that she was pleased with what had been delivered to her, which was rare on the first attempt, or she had not yet decided.

Whatever that woman decided, Zheya tried not to care. She had a planet to conquer, and soon would have her own choice of slaves to keep her busy in her spare time.

Kyrah’s violet eyes flashed at Kayven, literally glowing for a split second. He did not immediately link the flash to his aching, throbbing manhood finally going flaccid, but he soon realized that this alien somehow had complete control over his erections. It was a disturbing thought.

“You could do with a bit of rest before my slave-trainer comes for you,” she said, nearly sweetly, as she keyed in a series of commands on the console next to her bound male. The slave-trainer would come by when she was finished whipping her own personal slave.

She rose from her chair, giving the boy another long, longing look up and down his sweaty body. Looming over this smaller specimen, she grinned, very pleased with the male she had been given.

She was still due some luck in her life, it seemed.

Moving over to the mare, she noticed she had finally passed out. The machines had stopped fucking her as a result, the respective mechanical tentacles retracting. She had climaxed twenty times before passing out. Barely above average, Kyrah thought, but with proper training, the human female should be good fun indeed.

She released the mare from the crimson machine that held her, grabbing her before she fell face-first onto the deck. The metal rings binding her with bursts of energy to the machine locked together with magnets, keeping her arms bound behind her back. The mare’s body was very hot, coated with sweat. Kyrah licked her lips as she ran her other hand all over those big breasts. Big for human standards, that was, but they fit her frame.

She gave the girl’s face a firm smack, making her wake up from her orgasm-induced unconsciousness. The deep, green eyes flickered open, looking to and fro as she tried to ascertain her whereabouts. Her gaze landed on Kyrah, the pupils widening in fearful recollection.

She was sitting haphazardly on her knees, but managed to steady herself as the alien grabbed her hair in the back of her head, jerking it back. The alien bent down at the waist towards her, her huge, firm tits hanging close to her face.

“You will have to do better than that,” the alien said, her other hand pinching Tara’s nipples, making her squeal and bite the round gag. “Fainting after a mere twenty orgasms. You will have a tough time aboard my vessel if you cannot persevere.”

The alien started walking back to the chair next to where Kayven hung partially suspended. The powerful grip on her hair forced Tara to get on her feet and follow, her upper body leaning forward uncomfortably.

The blue woman sat down in the chair, forcing Tara to kneel in front of her before letting go of her hair. Briefly, Tara’s eyes met Kayven’s. He was panting around the cylindrical gag secured in his mouth, drooling and sweating, displayed in a very vulnerable position. Her eyes, for a second, dropped to his drooping cock, still coated with lubrication, before she turned away in embarrassment.

She had worked with and been Kayven’s professional partner for years, and though they had often seen each other in their underwear – a necessity in the lifestyle of soldiers – they had never seen each other completely naked before. She was humiliated for them both, but for the most part, her fright dominated her senses.

She was aboard an alien vessel, taken from a battlefield where her friends had died in the dozens, completely naked in front of an alien woman whose sheer size dwarfed Tara.

That, and her body was aflame, her nether region and ass pulsing with the forced fucking visited on her by the machines. Her nipples, too, were sore from being constantly sucked, and she had climaxed so much she had blacked out.

“Eyes on me,” the alien who had identified herself as Kyrah said, and Tara felt forced to comply, looking up between those large tits at the frightful, purple eyes.

“I will remove your gag, but you will not speak unless spoken to, or the consequences will be dire. Do you understand?”

Tara hesitantly nodded. The woman reached around her head with one hand and undid the gag, falling down to rest in her cleavage, the straps hanging around her like a fetish necklace. She moved her jaw, trying to make the muscles relax after being around the big ball for so long.

Kyrah had some questions, and hoped for interesting answers. She started by asking her name, and the name of the boy. The mare, Tara, answered satisfactory. Then she asked if she knew Kayven from before. She said yes. When pressed, she added they had been soldiers and partners for several years. This made Kyrah smile widely, displaying her immaculate teeth.

“Good,” she purred, looking forward to force the two of them to mate. If the two of them fancied themselves to have the same relationship siblings had, sexual acts would be all the sweeter to force upon them.

For now, though, Kyrah had more pressing desires.

“Well, Tara, milking our friend here,” she grabbed his balls, gently, but it still made Kayven start, “has made me so wet I hardly know what to do.”

She slid her thong aside, revealing a glistening, smooth pussy, identical to a human female’s apart from the colour.

“And you are going to help me with that.”

Tara’s eyes went wide. She wasn’t into women. The mere thought of doing what the alien, Kyrah, was suggesting repulsed her. Despite her position, she shook her head.

Ah, good, still some resistance left, Kyrah mused with a tight-lipped smile. Resistance was always good fun to break.

She grabbed the back of Tara’s head, roughly, and pulled her head between her thighs. Tara’s nostrils filled with the scents of a horny woman, but squirming with her arms bound behind her back and the strong hand keeping her still proved fruitless.

“Do not test my kindness, Tara. I do not respond well to the word ‘no’. In fact, that word makes me very, very displeased, and the slave that utters it will live to regret it.”

Tara swallowed, her lips quivering, eyes face to face with the dripping blue pussy. She did not doubt this woman would hurt her if she did not obey. Hurt her bad. She was a soldier, battle-hardened, but captivity had always frightened her. She knew she was not strong enough to resist. Blinking away tears, she brought her head closer and her tongue out, grimacing in disgust when the tip of her tongue made contact with the warm clit.

Still gripping the human’s hair, Kyrah shoved Tara’s face closer. “Go on, then.” Her other hand affectionately caressed the boy’s hip, his eyes watching in horror and disbelief at the unfolding scene.

Tara tried to put away her discomfort and do as she was ordered. The taste, while not unpleasant, still revolted her just because she was very aware of what she was doing. She licked the clit steadily, rhythmically, trying not to let her disgust force her to stop.

The horned woman looked down between her breasts at the mare with a bored expression. “No, this will not do at all.”

It was clear the slave did not know what she was doing down there, but that was fine, for all new slaves needed training. Tara’s would start right now by giving the girl some motivation to do a proper job.

She pulled her face even closer, smothering her face against her womanhood, and closed her broad thighs around the head. “Make me cum, and I will let you breathe, slave.”

Panicking, suddenly unable to breathe, Tara was still able to hear and process what the alien was telling her. All of a sudden, her tongue moved with a speed of its own, this time pressing firmly against Kyrah’s clit. She licked hard, fast, harder and faster, struggling to keep her breath from failing her, from suffocating between the alien’s thighs.

“That is better,” Kyrah sighed with pleasure, finally feeling some intent from the mare’s tongue on her clit. Her other hand left the warm, sweaty skin of her new stallion and grabbed her breast. Satisfied that her thighs would keep Tara’s head still, the other hand found her other breast.

She rolled her head back against the chair. Closing her eyes, she massaged and kneaded her breasts while the human was licking her, pinching and tugging her nipples, feeling sensual pleasure reverberate through her. Normally, she would not be approaching orgasm so quickly, but milking the boy and wolfing down his cum had already brought her to the edge. After a little while, one that she hoped felt like an hour to the struggling girl between her legs, she came.

Pulling on her nipples, groaning softly, her juices flowing onto the girl’s face, Kyrah exhaled with delight at the mellow orgasm. The girl, Tara, would need plenty of training, that much was sure, but she had taken the first step.

Spreading her thighs, the girl, chin and cheeks drenched with Kyrah’s orgasmic fluids, heaved for breath. She coughed and choked, the world spinning around her. She had been close to passing out a second time, and had significant trouble to focus her eyes.

“Good, slave, but you are not done yet.”

She relished the panicking expression on the girl’s face, and at the same time, the door of the far end of the chamber slid open, admitting the Goddess’ Hand’s notorious slave-trainer.