He bit back another scream when it was all the way in. His leg struggled to kick her away, away from his hurting body, but she only batted it away. She thrust. The thrust made her skin shine gold while it made his go white. His stomach rolled as her hips continued to press against his. He felt bile in his throat. Had he thrown up? He turned his head to the side, biting his lip. He could feel something sticky clinging to his thighs. Was it the Courier, wet from the excitement of fucking him or was it him opening up wounds?
The camp was spinning.
“Not enjoying this?”
She was eyeing his limp cock with a look akin to disgust. His laugh caught his throat. “How can I be? You’re so unappealing.”
The tip nudged that gland. He inhaled sharply.
“Ooh, was that pleasure I heard?”
She lazily moved again. The intense pleasure made him groan. Her coos fell soft on his ears. Again and again, she moved, hitting that thing inside him that made him dizzy with something that could be called desire. And he felt shame, but he felt pleasure and it felt good.
It shouldn’t.
He can’t enjoy this. He can’t let this woman win. He bit savagely into his lip, bringing forth blood and the familiar scent of blood. He knew blood. He knew war. He didn’t know surrender. He heard the Courier’s pissed off grunt. And he didn’t say anything when he was set back on his stomach, but his resolve was instantly broken when it pushed into him again. He grunted. The new angle reached deeper, harder against that spot, mixing equal parts pain and pleasure.
His cheek was rubbing against the wood, making it sting painfully, making it wet with something he didn’t care to know, as she fucked him. Her nails dug into his hips. His cock was pressing against his stomach, the precome cool on his skin. He tried to rein in his rampant emotions, tried to think about how the Legion would look upon him, about Caesar’s death, about revenge, but every thought melted away with every thrust.
Vulpes groaned. She moaned.
“You liked getting fucked,” she hissed, accusation in her voice. “Vulpes Inculta likes getting fucked like a whore,”
He snarled, mouth scraping against splinters. He bucked backwards. He can take the fucking, but he cannot take her accusations. She was the corrupt one, not him.
The Courier’s grasp on him weakened as she was startled by his sudden fight. It popped out. His chest tightened. It was painful, but he might just get somewhere, so he struggled more. Her hands found his hips moments later, digging painfully, almost clawing at them as she fought for control. Vulpes heard her bark out orders.
He fell forward, world spinning, gradually fading to nothing.
She shook him. He stirred. He opened his eyes. A flash of rusted metal winked in the sun. A power fist, some bastard had hit him with a power fist. His head ached so much that he didn’t flinch when it went inside him again. He only reacted when he figured out that he was naked. No more armor to keep him semi-hidden.
“Don’t be shy. Look. Everybody here loves it.”
She sighed contently. The Courier was being laughably gentle, giving bits of pleasure, moving without purpose, keeping her voice sweet. The grip on his hips was light. She even caressed the bruised skin, like a lover would.
He barked out a laugh. “You’re more unstable than I thought, Courier. I should have known by the way you clung to a robotic dog and a rotting corpse.”
The woman actually growled. Her thrust was cruel and he couldn’t help but moan. It carried over to the others. The mercenaries hooted, some of the whistled, some of them asked if he was free later. His face was burning. He didn’t dare think about what the others were thinking, but insults and slurs sneaked through his thoughts.
The Courier was moaning, voice cracking, like she was the one getting fucked. What skin touched his was hot, slick with sweat and rough from grime; he could feel the pressure of her breasts against his back, soft and yielding, unlike her. His cock twitched at the sensations. He felt ashamed, ears burning with humiliation, burning with the sound of her shameful moans.
The Mighty Become Slaves 5/?
The camp was spinning.
“Not enjoying this?”
She was eyeing his limp cock with a look akin to disgust. His laugh caught his throat. “How can I be? You’re so unappealing.”
The tip nudged that gland. He inhaled sharply.
“Ooh, was that pleasure I heard?”
She lazily moved again. The intense pleasure made him groan. Her coos fell soft on his ears. Again and again, she moved, hitting that thing inside him that made him dizzy with something that could be called desire. And he felt shame, but he felt pleasure and it felt good.
It shouldn’t.
He can’t enjoy this. He can’t let this woman win. He bit savagely into his lip, bringing forth blood and the familiar scent of blood. He knew blood. He knew war. He didn’t know surrender. He heard the Courier’s pissed off grunt. And he didn’t say anything when he was set back on his stomach, but his resolve was instantly broken when it pushed into him again. He grunted. The new angle reached deeper, harder against that spot, mixing equal parts pain and pleasure.
His cheek was rubbing against the wood, making it sting painfully, making it wet with something he didn’t care to know, as she fucked him. Her nails dug into his hips. His cock was pressing against his stomach, the precome cool on his skin. He tried to rein in his rampant emotions, tried to think about how the Legion would look upon him, about Caesar’s death, about revenge, but every thought melted away with every thrust.
Vulpes groaned. She moaned.
“You liked getting fucked,” she hissed, accusation in her voice. “Vulpes Inculta likes getting fucked like a whore,”
He snarled, mouth scraping against splinters. He bucked backwards. He can take the fucking, but he cannot take her accusations. She was the corrupt one, not him.
The Courier’s grasp on him weakened as she was startled by his sudden fight. It popped out. His chest tightened. It was painful, but he might just get somewhere, so he struggled more. Her hands found his hips moments later, digging painfully, almost clawing at them as she fought for control. Vulpes heard her bark out orders.
He fell forward, world spinning, gradually fading to nothing.
She shook him. He stirred. He opened his eyes. A flash of rusted metal winked in the sun. A power fist, some bastard had hit him with a power fist. His head ached so much that he didn’t flinch when it went inside him again. He only reacted when he figured out that he was naked. No more armor to keep him semi-hidden.
“Don’t be shy. Look. Everybody here loves it.”
She sighed contently. The Courier was being laughably gentle, giving bits of pleasure, moving without purpose, keeping her voice sweet. The grip on his hips was light. She even caressed the bruised skin, like a lover would.
He barked out a laugh. “You’re more unstable than I thought, Courier. I should have known by the way you clung to a robotic dog and a rotting corpse.”
The woman actually growled. Her thrust was cruel and he couldn’t help but moan. It carried over to the others. The mercenaries hooted, some of the whistled, some of them asked if he was free later. His face was burning. He didn’t dare think about what the others were thinking, but insults and slurs sneaked through his thoughts.
The Courier was moaning, voice cracking, like she was the one getting fucked. What skin touched his was hot, slick with sweat and rough from grime; he could feel the pressure of her breasts against his back, soft and yielding, unlike her. His cock twitched at the sensations. He felt ashamed, ears burning with humiliation, burning with the sound of her shameful moans.