Lemuria

Chapter 10

Happily Ever After

Oakwood

Cybele's eyes rolled back into her head and her tongue lolled lewdly out of her mouth as she came, her bound, bloated form twitching in its permanent frame and spraying copious amounts of her love juices into the face of the elf's dumbstruck attendant.

"No! I'm sorry! Give me one more chance!" The girl screamed as a drone dragged her off. Lord Mirk, the moroii in charge of the heifer's transport, rolled his bright red eyes in annoyance and turned to a nearby imp farmhand. "Fetch the next one. And be quick about it."

Between the intelligence-lowering "cow feed," the tedium of being locked immobile in the same stall for three years, and the constant sexual stimulation, the formerly logical, wise elf had been reduced to a slobbering beast, mindlessly driven only by the need to cum. Unfortunately for Cybele, Lemuria's elf milk had become quite the luxury item in Ipzold.

It turned out that humans were extremely willing to pay exorbitant sums for the long-life-granting fluid. Even after Lady Verity had revealed that it also corrupted its consumers when she reshaped a handsy merchant prince into a twisted (and thankfully short-lived) abomination, the Ipzoldi still demanded it as quickly as they could buy it.

The newly formed elven dairy guild, of which Lord Mirk was a proud member, had the be careful to retain enough supply for domestic use. Even though it had no restorative or enhancing properties, elf semen had also been declared a delicacy in some parts of Ipzold, so that stock had to be managed as well.

The booming market had driven a surge in experimentation as numerous ranches sprang up around the country (a decree by Queen Anise that all elves in the Lemuria were to be reclassified as livestock certainly helped there). One discovery, most unfortunate for the mindbroken Cybele, was that sexual frustration caused the milk to take on a sinfully sweet flavor.

And so Mirk had introduced what he called the "milkmaid" procedure. Cybele was accompanied at all times by an attendant whose sole purpose was to keep her on the edge of climaxing during all of the cow's waking hours. As an incentive, once a girl inevitably failed in this task and allowed the insensate elf to achieve an orgasm, she was "cycled out" to be used as a fucktoy and blood bag by Mirk and his fellow demons until her turn came around again.

So far, the longest "shift" had lasted two weeks. He chuckled, remembering the primal bleats that emerged from Cybele's dumb mouth when she finally managed to come that time around. Her expulsions nearly drowned the enterprising attendant.

"I'm ready to start, sir." The replacement milkmaid was dressed in what was now standard Lemurian commoner garb, courtesy of a national dress code for all adult citizens not of noble blood. A large cutout in the middle of the woman's blouse left her tits proudly on display, while the "skirt" she wore was simply two pieces of fabric covering her hips, leaving her bare pussy and ass exposed. As decreed by Queen Anise, she and her common kin had to present their bodies at all times, ensuring any noble or demon was free to use them on a whim.

The tag dangling from the girl's pierced left nipple told Mirk her name was Bethany and that her last shift has lasted a mere seven hours. "You'd best perform better this time around," he snarled. "If I have to replace you before we reach the palace, I'm throwing you into the monolith when we get there."

The color drained from the terrified milkmaid's face as she knelt down to access Cybele's unwashed, bushy nether region and softly began massaging the cow's bloated clit. This is so unfair. The stupid cunt isn't even going to be hooked up to a milker during the trip! Cybele moaned happily at the attention, twisting in her bindings in an attempt to grind against Bethany's hand and reach even more stimulation. Panicking, the woman quickly pinched the elf's swollen nub, cutting off her pleasure with a jolt of pain. Great. Five seconds in and already a close call.

Mirk muttered to one of his imp employees. "Better get the next couple milkmaids ready. We'll bring them along, too." Nodding, the small demon marched off. Another farmhand, this one a human male, approached.

He was shirtless, his caged cock hanging limply out of a hole in the front of his pants. A necessary precaution to stop the commoner labourers from fucking the livestock. "Lord Mirk, your carriage has arrived. We just aren't sure if it can accommodate the cow's frame given her...state."

Mirk had to admit that the human had a point. The years of sedentary life had rendered Cybele swollen and weak. If released from her permanent bindings, Mirk doubted she could even move. She definitely couldn't stand, considering her enhanced milkers were now each roughly the mass of an adult human on their own.

"Well, figure it out. She has a wedding to attend and we are not going to disappoint the queen. Isn't that right, Mage General?" Cybele looked blankly at the demon through glassy, lust-mad eyes, then let out a mindless moan.

Royal City of Ephira, Central Square

"Come along, we don't have all day." Lady Rossmant gave a quick tug of the leash, causing Gingertits to redouble her pace. The bitch-suited cat, formerly Constance's maid, Marina, scurried along behind her mistress. The noblewoman was enjoying a leisurely stroll to meet Lord Salvatore at a delightful café that featured a lovely view of the monolith.

The noblewoman smirked as she strode through a veritable sea of exposed tits, pussies, and cocks, courtesy of Anise's laws. It would be clear to any observer that Lady Constance Rossmant was practically a different species from the slovenly masses going about their little lives around her, averting their gazes lest they draw her ire. She was bedecked in a fine, jet black dress, adorned with shimmering green emeralds. Matching jewels hung from her delicate, ivory ears.

Never one to miss a chance to accessorize, she had decorated Gingertits to match. A trio of emeralds, the same as those dangling from Constance's ears, hung from clamps attached painfully to the bound beastkin's exposed breasts and clit. The former maid mewed pathetically as she marched, both from the pain and from a thick rubber phallus, enchanted to vibrate continuously, secured in her dripping cunt with a leather strap.

The pair reached the periphery of the square and found Lord Salvatore already waiting at a roadside table. One waitress was taking the nobleman's order while the head of another bobbed eagerly up and down on his shaft, her forehead practically bouncing off his considerable gut. "I took the liberty of ordering wine for the both of us. You still prefer Malbecs, yes?"

"You know me so well." She smiled and sat down, her moaning kitty awkwardly squatting next to her. "So this is your new tomcat?" Lady Rossmant gestured to a well-toned, dark-haired beastkin sitting on the ground next to the rotund banker. Although restrained in a bitchsuit of his own, he had a positively predatory look in his eyes as he stared at Gingertits, his exposed cock rapidly hardening.

"Yes, Biscuits is freshly trained." Salvatore leaned forward, slightly crushing the cocksucking waitress as he spoke in a stage whisper. "He was actually married to a minor noble. She tried to keep him hidden, but her butler did his patriotic duty and reported the crime. Now he is in his proper place and she is somewhere in there." He gestured toward the monolith as Constance's eyes followed.

Hard to believe I once found it grotesque. The monolith had nearly doubled in size over the past three years. Two would-be rebellions, a beastkin rights protest, and an attempted riot over the nation's new dress code had all led to what Lemurians now euphemistically called "mass incarceration events."

Additionally, there was now a steady flow of various minor criminals added to its ranks each week, along with a quiet yet fruitful business 'disappearing' individuals from beyond Lemuria's borders. Unfaithful spouses and the like.

The monolith had finally reached the point where the vast majority of its fleshy protrusions were far out of reach. An enterprising human carpenter put forward a proposal to construct an elaborate scaffolding around the structure, allowing the people of the city to make use of the depraved monument to its fullest (he received a noble title as a reward).

And use it the people did. The monolith was the one place remaining In Lemuria where the common folk could freely use others rather than being used themselves. All day and night, the people of the city swarmed over it like ants on a sugar cube, fucking their pain and shame away in a never-ending bacchanal of faceless violation.

Constance frowned slightly. A small cadre of human workers, assisted by drones, seemed to be chiseling away at a part of the structure. "What do you suppose is going on there?"

Salvatore shrugged, reaching down with one hand to hold the waitress tight against his prick as he came in her awaiting mouth. "Something for the wedding. They need a bit of it shaved off. Now," he continued, the waitress all but forgotten as she silently rose, finished swallowing the nobleman's seed, and resumed her duties, "you wanted to inquire about breeding your little kitty with mine?" Beside her mistress, Gingertits quaked in fear under the hungry eyes of Salvatore's pet.

Ephiran Palace, Kennels

Kaya, or Clittycat as she now thought of herself, moaned in discomfort as Cyan's massive clawlike hand forced the feline beastkin's face well into the depths of her reeking snatch.

The twisted, heavily pregnant canine was lying on her back, legs spread wide to allow the pack's designated fuckpet easy access to her holes. Vraka and the rest of the hounds were out on the hunt, either for deer or some unlucky soul outside past curfew, leaving the bound cat as the sole focus of the gravid Cyan's attention. As Clittycat diligently licked away, circling her tongue around the hound's swollen clit, she found herself reminiscing, longing for one more moment with her beloved Cleome.

Not that she had spent the last three years completely bereft of Cleome's company. The former princess, still ensnared in her firm-fitting, all-controlling prison, had numerous duties. The most common was greeting petitioners, diplomats, and other visitors to the throne room with a dance, a song, and a fuck.

Other responsibilities were much less regular but more involved, such as a monthly public masturbation show in front of the palace gates. The event had become so popular that the council had to start assigning tickets using a lottery system.

Meanwhile, the jester's weekly duties included cleaning the queen's boots with her tongue, serving as Verity's footstool, and Clittycat's favorite, "kennel duty." For this task, the former princess was instructed to stroke a male hound hard, then guide his cock into Clittycat's pussy, all the while verbally degrading her former lover using the most hurtful terms she could imagine. This was repeated until the entire pack had mated with their pet.

Clittycat fucking loved kennel duty. She didn't care that Cleome was insulting her. She was just glad to hear her voice. Whenever she had the chance (usually in between violations, as the hounds tended to crush her face into the ground while they penetrated her), she tried to make eye contact with the scornful jester.

Sometimes, she thought that she saw sympathy in Cleome's eyes, although the steady stream of invectives made it hard to be sure. Either way, even if Cleome still thought Clittycat had betrayed her and hated her for it, kennel duty meant that the feline could see the one she loved, even if only for--

*click*

A leash latched on to Clittycat's collar and she was abruptly dragged away from a snarling Cyan's swampy muff. "Verity wants 'er." The hulking ogre, one of the few demons not intimidated by the vicious hounds, spoke with a shrug. The sound of her mistress's name calmed the warped beastkin as the ogre turned and marched away, pulling Clittycat out of the kennels. "C'mon, boss needs ya. Sum'thin 'bout a wedding."

Ephiran Palace, Throne Room

Queen Anise sighed, leaning back against her mother's pillowy breasts. Although she typically liked to keep one of her chairmate's holes available so she had something to fuck while she sat, moving Isabelle temporarily into the throne's backrest was still pleasurable in its own way. Still, it was somewhat annoying having to stroke herself using her own hands while holding court. I'll get Verity to move her again after the wedding. Maybe have her ass sticking up. Her old cooter is getting a bit stretched.

Although the nature of Isabelle's captivity changed regularly, she had remained continuously inured in the throne since that fateful day three years ago. Halfway through the second year, the queen had briefly decided to uncover her mother's face once more, but the empty, glass-eyed expression on Isabelle's unblinking face only served to prove that there was nothing left of her. She was only suited to be a faceless toy.

Anise held up her spare hand, silencing the current petitioner, a farmer from the north pleading for an exemption to the royal clothing policy. Something about it being impractical for below-freezing temperatures.

Smiling sweetly, she spoke. "Are you so concerned about shrinkage? From what I can see, you don't really have much to lose anyways." The man blushed in shame, acutely aware of the eyes of the court converging on his exposed, flaccid dick.

"If I make an exception for you, soon everyone will want one. If you and your people can't handle the cold, then you must turn yourselves over for drone conversion. That'll help you brave the elements." The man sputtered in desperation that such measures would not be needed, and that his love for Lemuria would provide all the warmth he would need. Amazing what the proper motivation can do.

Speaking of motivation, a loud moan let the young queen know that her jester had just finished serving her next appointment, two Ipzoldi mages who claimed to have perfected a method to vastly increase the speed of beastkin gestation and growth. Promising if true. The overseas demand for Lemuria's prized pets overseas far outstripped the nation's supply.

The queen tapped her fingers impatiently on the armrest as the men withdrew their cocks from Cleome's mouth and ass. The enslaved jester wiped the cum off her body as best she could, then turned to the next waiting guest and sprung into a comical dance, bells ringing merrily as her tits flapped about.

Getting kind of repetitive after all these years. Might be time to find some new employment for dearest Clee. Besides, time heals all wounds. Maybe I can try forgiving her for her crimes. At least a little bit.

Setting that decision aside for now, she turned to the Ipzoldians. However, she was interrupted as Verity swept into the throne room, greeting her with a passionate kiss. "Everything is on schedule, my love." The succubus looked at the queen with adoring eyes as she spoke. "I still can't believe you made me wait three years."

Anise gently chided her demonic fiancée. "Three years to whip Lemuria into shape. To make. Everything. Perfect." She punctuated the last words by gently poking Verity's nose. "Besides, I think making you wait a while was a perfectly reasonable way to prove that your control over me is indeed gone. Now, off with you. I don't want to see your face again until tomorrow."

She affectionately smacked the demoness's ass as Verity strolled away, then returned her attention to the pair of mages. A queen's work is never done.

Queen Anise. What a lovely name. Verity smiled softly to herself as she exited the palace, heading toward the Chapel of the Goddess. So regal. And so different from the name "Princess Anise" that she had relinquished control over. One last little betrayal, my dear. Just in case I ever need it.

She smiled wistfully as she walked down a busy street, idly stopping to watch as another succubus, curvy in an almost matronly fashion, took a fancy to a cute blonde selling apples, forcing the hapless vendor to her knees and making her eat her out in the middle of the road. A passing imp took the opportunity to stop and plow the woman's back door. The rest of the crowd continued about their business. Such was life in today's Ephira. An Ephira that Verity's wife-to-be had brought into being with gusto.

Over the past three years since the coronation, Verity had never once been tempted to exercise any control over the young Queen Anise. Frankly, she adored their disagreements and conflicts. Hell, when the royal bitch demanded that Verity wait three years before they were to be wed, the succubus practically came on the spot.

She chuckled at the memory. Is this actually love? In all her years, Verity had never really considered the concept. Everyone was either a threat, a rival, or food. But Anise...her unleashed depravity, her ambition...that cock of hers...Verity's pussy moistened at the thought as she reached her destination.

Entering the currently-empty chapel (worship of the goddess wasn't all that popular anymore), her mind took a dark turn. Succubi didn't exactly ignore temptation. And the temptation to control Anise would always exist. What if an argument grew out of hand and Verity ordered her lover to shut up? Anise would never trust Verity again. And the demoness wanted that trust. No, she needed it.

Scrounging around behind the altar, Verity found some parchment, ink, and a quill. Like it was meant to be. She quickly scrawled a note.

I permanently relinquish all control granted to me by the Exile over the corruption in one Queen Anise.

Verity stared at the document in her hand. This would end her last line of defence. Her insurance. Fuck it. She pricked her hand and signed. There's your wedding gift, my love.

Ephira, Chapel of the Goddess

As she stood at the altar, nude save for a gauzy veil obscuring her face, Queen Anise had to admit that Lady Rossmant had done a wonderful job decorating the chapel. The banners and flowers were to be expected, but the desecrated statue of the Goddess behind the altar, delicately re-chiseled into a bound, gagged state, was quite the nice touch. Connie was certainly playing the role of enthusiastic loyalist well. Almost annoyingly so.

The building's moderate size had (thankfully, in Anise's mind), kept the number of attendees to a manageable count. Her council, their spouses, and some of their pets were present, of course.

Lady Rossmant, her work complete, was presently leaned back in a chair near the front of the assembly with her dress hiked up, allowing Gingertits's tongue easy access to her owner's cunt. Just behind her (and under the disapproving eye of his bony wretch of a wife), Lord Salvatore observed his young peer's ecstatic moans with barely-disguised interest.

Various demonic nobles, selected by Verity, had joined the festivities as well. Unlike their human compatriots, who were certainly willing to take advantage of the human commoners but still found outright enslaving them somewhat culturally distasteful, the demons were accompanied by an entourage of unlucky victims.

One incubus settled his ass on to the exposed cock of a man otherwise completely cocooned in latex before starting to idly stroke his own. A wedded pair of imps canoodled shamelessly atop their collared slave, the petite demonic woman bouncing up and down vigorously on the man's dick while he was forced to plunge his tongue into her husband's asshole. Slouched near the back of the room, a massive ogre sat on the floor while two women, identical twins, nude save for black leather armbinders, ran their tongues up and down either side of his massive, erect cock.

Report

In a central chair, a bored-looking moroii idly pawed at the tits of the extremely pale woman seated uncomfortably next to him. Her breasts were the only parts of her body below her nose exposed to the air, as the rest was enclosed in a tight hobble dress, complete with integrated armbinder, that culminated in a high posture collar extending up to and covering her mouth. Fashionable, and it covered the unsightly bite marks on his current blood bag's neck. The demon, Mirk, had earned his invitation by delivering one of the guests of honor.

The aforementioned guest, Cybele, was ensnared in a slightly less bulky version of her usual milking frame. The elf bleated with animalistic frustration as her current attendant teasingly nibbled at her lower folds.

Poor Bethany had only managed to keep the thirsty cow on edge for a day before setting her off, and, true to his word, Mirk had personally hurled the useless bitch into the monolith upon reaching Ephira. Her replacement, the lovely, ebony-skinned Maya, had kept Cybele in a frenzied state of dissatisfaction for nearly a week on her last rotation and was determined to beat that record this go-around.

The former Mage General and her attendant had been installed next to the refreshments. This allowed any enterprising guest to either milk the wretched cow by hand or, should they be so inclined, partake in her bounteous fluid by suckling it right from her bloated teats.

The elf's vacant stare reminded Anise of her dear mother's current state (Isabelle would NOT be in attendance. Anise wasn't going to drag her own throne through Ephira just so that a braindead husk could be present for her big day). Hopefully there was some spark of the former scholar in that vacant, mooing head. At least enough the appreciate the celebration at hand.

On the opposite side of the chamber, mounted waist-height upon an ivory plinth, was a cube-shaped section of monolith that housed the ex-High-General Oriana. Or, at least, Anise was pretty sure that was who it was.

Two dark hands, uselessly clenching and unclenching, erupted from the upper part of one of the cube's sides. Below them, the occupant's ass and pussy hung out of the object's surface above a pair of squirming feet. The complexion looked like Oriana's, anyways, but the sheer volume of prisoners sealed away in the monolith made picking a specific one out very hard.

Anise supposed she could have had the stone around the victim's head chiseled away to reveal her face but, frankly, didn't feel it was worth the effort. I never really liked Oriana all that much anyways, the Queen thought as a nobleman stepped up to the exposed flesh, grabbed hold of the conveniently exposed wrists, and began fucking the inured woman's ass.

Anise was much more fond of her third guest, who sat next to the chapel doors as best she could in her permanent, strict bondage. Clittycat has been cleaned and groomed, looking her finest as she took in the debauchery around her. Well, her finest save for the fresh load of hound semen dripping slowly from her exposed slit.

That mess was courtesy of her date for the day, Vraka, who held her leash tightly in one massive claw and humorously, had a tie loosely looped around his massive neck. Cyan was regrettably unable to attend, having just birthed a litter of pups. The degraded Scout General let out a plaintive wail as she saw her beastly partner's dick begin to stiffen yet again. Fully broken, she meekly turned and presented her holes for the ravaging that was soon to follow.

However, the horny beastkin's attention was diverted away from his fuckpet as the chapel doors rumbled open. Cleome tottered in, still in her jester's garb.

"Ladies, gentleman, demons, and...others." The last word was spat out with venom as the former princess glared down at the wretched Clittycat sitting a few feet away. The stupid smile reappeared on her unwilling face as she continued. "I present to you, the Lady Verity!"

A nervous-looking band, some of the only un-accosted commoners in the defiled chapel, began playing a cheery tune as the succubus strode resplendently through the doors. Verity was dressed in the traditional formal wear of her people (that is, to say, nothing at all). The demon padded down the aisle, basking in the complimentary, lustful, and envious gazes of the onlookers. She drew up beside her partner, lovingly taking in the beauty of her altered body as if seeing it for the first time.

As Queen, Anise had decided to officiate her own ceremony. She began with a brief speech, thanking those in attendance did their support, and promising a long reign of prosperity, power, and pleasure. Then, she turned to her demonic consort.

"Three years ago, you gave me a choice. Some nights, I still wonder if I made the right one. I was always told a ruler's duty was to her people. To serve and guide them, not to control them." She glanced over at Cleome, still standing rigidly at her post by the door. Tears ran down her smiling cheeks as her eyes desperately pleaded for her younger sister to see reason, even after falling to do so for years.

"So many in this nation have suffered, currently suffer, and will suffer in the future because of me. My ancestors would hate me for what I have done. Many here in this room hate me right now." Then, with a smile, she threw back her veil. "But who cares? I want this, and I want YOU. Now give me my damn ring so I can kiss you."

With a broad grin, the succubus plunged one hand into her own sopping cunt. Anise felt her groin respond to the lewd sight, and her cock stiffened as she watched Verity's hand reemerge, a large golden ring in its clutches.

"I wanted to keep it nice and warm for you." Verity seductively strode toward the queen until their firm breasts pressed gently together. Then, with a seductive wink, she placed the ring in her mouth, kneeled down, and took Anise's cock into her mouth. The demoness's head bobbed up and down diligently as she pleasured her royal lover, until a lust-stricken Anise grabbed two handfuls of the succubus's hair, pushing her entire length down Verity's throat as she came.

After taking a few seconds to contentedly gulp down the queen's seed, Verity withdrew and stood, leaving the ring behind at the base of the royal cock. "Well, that certainly works for me. In my own name, I declare us wed!!" And with that, Queen Anise grabbed Queen Consort Verity by the shoulders, threw her down on the altar, and began passionately fucking her while the assemblage vigorously applauded.

Soon the celebration began in earnest, as all semblance of propriety fell away. The guests, noble, demon, and unwilling commoner alike, found themselves part of a wild orgy. Cleome was made to use her hands and holes to service five men at a time, while Cybele's attendant was dragged off to be violated while other guests took turns plowing the confused but ecstatic elven cow, who came messily and often.

Vraka dropped his feline companion's leash and tackled one of the band members to the ground, howling as he fucked the man's ass into the ground. Clittycat's relief was short-lived, however, as she soon found herself at the bottom of a pile of demons, enthusiastically making use of both each other and the bound feline's easily accessible holes.

A few hours later, the cum-drunk Queen Consort laid tenderly on the altar, next to her wife. She gently kissed a wayward spot of cum off Anise's nose. "I had intended to get you a present, but the one I had in mind...I can't really tell you about it."

Anise stirred wearily. "Was it getting rid of the princess and queen name contract thing? Where you could still use Marlow's power to control me?"

A chill flooded through the succubus's body. "How did you--?" Her wife chuckled. "I knew all along. The stupid, weird wording of the contract. The big show you put on when you signed it. It was kind of obvious. But it made you feel safe, so I didn't mind. Sweet of you to cast it aside, though."

Stretching languidly, Anise sat up and surveyed the scene. Bodies lay strewn about the chapel, awash in a veritable sea of fluids. Her piteous sister lay in its epicentre, practically painted white with cum. Clittycat pathetically hunched at her side, futilely trying to lick her former lover clean.

Anise felt a slight pang of guilt at the pitiful sight. "Actually, my love, there is one more gift you could give me." She whispered a request in her demonic bride's ear.

"Oh, that is so sweet of you!" Verity affectionately pecked her spouse's cheek. "Still the mind, soft-hearted princess deep inside, aren't you?" The succubus thought for a moment. "We'll need a new court jester, though." The statement brought a mischievous look to Queen Anise's face.

Reluctantly, Verity disentangled herself from her wife's warm embrace and strolled through the sticky mess until she stood looking over the exhausted Cleome.

The transmogrifying power she had stolen from Marlow flowed through her body as she uttered an incantation. Instantly, the skin-tight exoskeleton that had commandeered Cleome's every movement for the past three years fell away from the insensate former princess. Cleome valiantly attempted to rise, but between the years of enforced control and the recent hours of nonstop fucking, she could barely bring herself to roll over.

Sitting primly on the altar, Anise watched with bright-eyed interest as Verity waded through the bodies, fluids, and debris that lined the chapel in search of the correct material. Cleome desperately uttered a gurgling, incoherent final plea, only to fall silent at the look in her sister's eye.

Whether from Marlow's twisted parasite, Verity's chemical charms, or simply her own deep, depraved desires, the Anise she once knew was gone. Not replaced entirely, but fundamentally changed nonetheless. She would never relent.

Several sticky minutes later, the demoness let out a delighted exclamation and triumphantly raised aloft a bundle of cum-soaked leather, likely the remains of a long-discarded partygoer's bindings. Returning to the despondent Cleome, she focused her stolen powers upon her prize. Marlow may have been pathetic and deranged, but he certainly had some useful talents.

With an incantation, she gently let the components drop onto her prey. Moments later, Cleome found herself "standing" unsteadily on freshly-bound knees and elbows, inured in a bitch-suit matching Clittycat's.

The only major differences were in the ex-princess's ears and tail. The former were mounted on a headband connecting to her muzzle-shaped gag. The latter extended from a massive, hollow plug rammed firmly up her ass, secured by integrated straps. Its open end would still allow any prospective fuck-partner access to the hole.

"I love her!" Queen Anise, now standing next to her partner with Clittycat's leash firmly in hand, positively squealed with joy. "I think these two will make quite the handsome set. After all, I've always heard that getting a bonded pair keeps them from growing lonely when you have to leave them alone."

"Another splendid idea, your majesty!" Lady Rossmant, along with many of the other human and demonic nobles, had cleaned up best they could (thanks greatly to Lord Salvatore's magical talents) and had taken up position near the royal pair.

"While we will, of course, miss having such an entertaining royal jester in the court, I daresay that Cleome is even better suited for this new "position."" And, with that, the council broke out into awkward applause.

Anise rolled her eyes at the pathetic pandering before leaning over and whispering in her wife's ear. Verity broke out in a wide grin. Turning to Lady Rossmant, she barked out another magical command. The noblewoman barely had time to utter a panicked shriek before she found herself standing stiffly at attention, ensnared by the wiry prison that had until recently controlled Cleome's every waking second.

"My beloved has grown to find your constant, simpering plots for attention to be...well, something of a joke. So it only seems appropriate that you take over ALL of Cleome's former duties. Go report to the royal tailor. You'll need a proper uniform for your new fuck-jester position. Once you are properly attired I want you to clean this chapel until it positively gleams." Anise added an addendum to the succubus's command. "Oh, and no mops or water. Use your tongue."

"Right away, your majesties!" With a beaming smile, the weeping Constance Rossmant struggled in vain as her traitorous body turned and took its leave. Queen Anise turned to the remainder of the council. "I'm not going to have any more problems with pandering responses anymore, yes? As you can see, if I want a bootlicker I'll make my own."

Watching the council falling over themselves to reassure their monarchs from the room's perimeter, Gingertits positively beamed beneath her muzzle. The bitch finally got what she deserved. And, just maybe, I'll be able to sneak--

Her plans ground to a halt as she felt Verity's gaze fall upon her bound form. "Vraka, since you have been kind enough to give us your fuck-cat as a wedding present, you can have that one instead." Gingertits wailed as the warped beastkin leaped on to her, eager to lay his claim. Why can't I catch one fucking break?!

Anise dismissed the cowering sycophants and leaned back. She took in the drooling sow that had once been a millennia-old scholar. She watched thick dollops slowly drop from the exposed holes of what had (probably) been one of the fiercest warriors in the land. She considered the broken shell of what had once been her mother, now just a convenient hole in a chair back in the palace. And she looked dotingly upon her two new pets as her bride clipped a leash on to Cleome's collar while whispering something in the once-proud royal's ear.

A final splinter of regret briefly penetrated her thoughts before she brushed it aside for good. Smiling, she loomed over her cowering, bound sister. "Now what should I call you?"

Ephiran Royal Palace, Royal Bedchamber

Queen Consort Verity awoke with a languid, pleasurable stretch. At the demoness's side, her beloved wife was still fast asleep, her smiling face the very picture of innocent bliss.

A sudden jolt of pleasure caused by a raspy, warm tongue running across her clit drew the royal demoness's gaze away from her beloved's face and down to her own azure nethers. That fucking cat! Lifting the silken sheets for a better view, Verity looked down suspiciously at the feline face buried in her royal cunt, peering into Clittycat's amber eyes in search of any mischief.

Not that it was fair to blame the poor thing for doing her job. After all, Clittycat certainly hadn't latched her own collar to the leather bands secured around the succubus's thighs, keeping her head locked in an intimate embrace with her owner's moist lower lips all night long.

What had Anise called these overnight tasks? Enrichment activities? "Well, now that you've seized my attention, you'd better get to it. I want you drowning in my ladycum before my lady wife wakes up."

Clittycat took up the challenge enthusiastically. After years of constant violation by Vraka and his pack, spending her days tasting the succubus queen's sweet nectar and awash in her titillating pheromones was practically paradise. Besides, she did owe the succubus. Verity had granted Clittycat her one true desire, after all.

Before long, Queen Anise found herself emerging from some very pleasant dreams to the even more pleasant sound of her consort's ecstatic cries. Blinking the remnants of her sleep away, she threw aside the sheets, taking in her own bitch-suited bed attendant with playful outrage. "Princess! Bad kitty! Snoring away while your mate is so hard at work!"

The sound of her new monicker pulled the bound pet once known as Cleome out of her own whimsical dream. She had beaten Marlow, saved her sister, and had a grand celebration with Kaya and the other generals.

Letting the vision fade away, as all foolish dreams must, she turned her attention to the two important matters at hand: the queen's rapidly-stiffening cock in her mouth and her equally eager clit pressed against her former sister's nose. Both needed tending to before Anise would even consider releasing Princess from between her thighs. She sighed with contentment as she got to work. After getting over the initial shock, Princess had begun to find her new life oddly freeing. No more responsibilities, no more duties. Just being a good fuckpet for Anny. Speaking of which...

Several pleasurable minutes later, Verity began reviewing the day's schedule while Anise fed the cats. It would have been desperately easy to set a drone to the task, but Anise insisted on doting on the pair herself. Verity smiled. One of her many oh-so-charming quirks.

Princess and Clittycat obediently lapped up their bowls of genuine Ephiran elf milk (sourced from Cybele herself. Nothing but the finest for the royal pets). After all, what would be the fun in being the immortal scions of long dead and banished gods if they couldn't ensure their beloved pets lived for eternity as well?

The fact that the life-extending fluid had also finally imbued Cleome with the Exile's corruption was just a pleasant bonus. Anise had clapped with delight and surprise when Verity demonstrated by temporarily shaping a massive cock on to Princess's loins and having her mount poor Clittycat, herself rendered motionless at the time by a pair of (temporarily) barrel-sized tits.

The queen consort turned to her wife. "Lord Salvatore has requested an audience. Something about a breeding request for--"

"No! No mangy mutt is getting anywhere near Princess's muff!"

Verity held up her hands placatingly. "He knows that. It's for Gingertits. He likes the color of her coat."

The queen frowned. "Who?"

"Vraka's bitch. Clittycat's replacement."

"Oh, HER. I'd forgotten about that one. If Lord Salvatore can convince Vraka's pack to take their cocks and clits out of her for long enough, he's welcome to borrow her. I guess Vraka might be distracted enough helping Cyan with her pups for there to be a chance."

Anise sidled up to her wife, resting her head on the succubus's shoulder as the two stared out the window at their kingdom. "You know, I think he only requests these audiences because he likes getting his courtesy clown-fuck from Connie."

"Well, of course. Have you seen his wife?" Anise had to laugh at that.

Beyond their window, the new Ephira lay splayed out before them. A vendor on a street corner sold vials of genuine elf seed, perfect for any wishing to try to breed their own (or simply to enjoy the taste). Elsewhere, a group of bitchsuited canine beastkin pursued a similarly-bound female around a circular track while cheering onlookers placed bets on which would finally catch and mount her.

Meanwhile, a moaning procession of drones set about constructing the city's first dedicated dairy, only stopping their work briefly when their constantly-penetrated hosts came messily all over the ground (Verity had removed the orgasm block Marlow had insisted upon. The war was over. No need to torture the wretched things too excessively).

Turning reluctantly from the lewd sights and sounds, Verity continued with the day's agenda. "Some Ipzoldi prince wants to offer half his kingdom for the throne. The physical chair thing, that is. I already told him it has too much sentimental value for you. So, instead, I took the liberty of having one of his rivals' daughters placed in something similar. I bet I can convince him to pay almost as highly for that piece instead."

Anise pecked her wife on the cheek. "Always the clever businesswoman."

"Speaking of Ipzold, another batch of bandits tried to encroach upon our border, but to no avail. Their ruling council is denying any knowledge but will still make some trade concessions as a cursory apology."

Report

Verity smiled at the thought. Through her appropriated connection to Marlow's parasites, she had sensed as the tendrils (the seeds of which now formed an underground network encompassing all of Lemuria) automatically set upon the intruders and converted them into drones. "Honestly, we should consider just invading them."

"Where's the fun in that?" Anise replied. "No point in having power if you can't lord it over someone else. Ipzold will remain as is." Verity let the point stand. After all, what was the point of giving up the ability to control Anise if not to let the queen order her around?

Anise ordering me around like one of her pets... Verity felt herself grow dewy at the notion. Maybe for our anniversary I'll put myself in a bitch-suit for a week. Have her lead me around on a leash. She can order me to pleasure Clittycat and Princess while she watches. Could be fun. Summoning her will, she set aside the titillating prospect and soldiered on.

"After the meetings are over, I was thinking maybe a nice picnic in the square? We can bring some wine, maybe have the kittens eat us out while we watch the monolith and play "can you spot Oriana?"

Anise's answer was interrupted by a wet slurping sound back in the bedchamber. The meal finished, Clittycat had rolled on to her back, allowing Princess's tongue access in between her splayed, stumpy legs. The pair now lovingly lapped away at each other's dripping pussies.

The queen looked on adoringly. "Aren't they just the sweetest? I'm so happy they got over that little spat."

"She never abandoned you. She was caught trying to kill Marlow for you. Because she loves you."

Verity still wasn't completely sure why she had muttered those words in Princess's ears just after the wedding. Maybe a little bit of guilt for goading Kaya into the foolish mission in the first place? Perhaps simply an attempt to make the two an even better gift for her dear Anise? Or, maybe, the simple fact that Verity had won, in every way that mattered, meant there was no need to be EXCESSIVELY cruel to the loser. Who knows? Maybe a bit of all three.

The royal couple held each other close as their pampered pets erupted in howling pleasure. All was right in their world. And, for the bound pair on the floor, nothing mattered anymore save for one fact: they had eternity to spend with each other. With their one true love.

And unbeknownst to all of them, from far beyond their reality, the shifting, gnashing mass that was the Exile observed the queens, their pets, and the end result of the chain of events sprung from one bitter fool's actions. For a moment, all of the chaos lay still, and the primordial god smiled in contentment.

Fin