Mere years before the beginning of The Great Crusade…
For the first time in countless centuries, Terra, the birthplace of humanity stood as a united planet once more. The Unification Wars were over. The Techno-barbarian warlords who had carved their petty fiefdoms from the corpse of the Long Night were now only a memory. Though the scars ran deep in her crust, at long last, Terra was fit to be the jewel of a great human empire once more. The Long Night was nearly over, and the dawn of a new era was just on the horizon.
There was just one final enemy to lay low before humanity's new future could begin.
Across the hills of Attica, ten thousand boots marched in sync, the sound like thunder as echoed across the fields beneath Athens's shadow. This army of ten thousand, each a warrior goddess clad in shimmering gold, led by a towering golden figure – as if Athena herself had stepped from the annals of myth to reclaim her city. But no, not a goddess, but an Empress.
The Empress.
Apokálypsi, Neoth, the Empress of Mankind, regardless of what she called herself, she once more found herself staring up at the walls of Athens. She wasn't here for any party, or to spy on a possible ally. No, her only purpose here… was for war.
All around her were the sounds of war. The march of her Ten thousand, the rumble was siege engines, and the shrieking cries of artillery that battered the walls of Athens. The Empress stared up at those walls, built up to new heights, only to be laid low once more. As the calamity of war raged around her, Constance Valdor – the Captain-General of her Custodes approached.
"The walls will not hold for much longer, my liege," the golden Amazon told her. The Empress said nothing, and though she gave no sign that she had even heard Valdor's words, the Captain-General knew her lord was listening. "He can't expect to win this? Why has he not fled yet?"
At last, the Empress responded, giving her most loyal of servants a brief, side-long look. "He wants to make a spectacle of it," was her only answer.
Constance's prediction soon proved true and the walls of Athens collapsed, throwing dust and rubble to the winds. The Empress lifted her sword, a flaming blade that shone like a light in the darkness. She gave a single order. "Charge."
The word was barely above a whisper, but it spread throughout her forces like wildfire. Her Ten thousand golden guardians, in addition to the hundreds of thousands of mortal soldiers charged unhesitatingly into the breech, uncaring of whatever opposition they might be met with.
And yet somehow, the Empress doubted they ever could have expected the kind of opposition that they were met with,
As the forces of the nascent Imperium climbed and leapt over the rubble of the once great walls, they were met with a force – not of hardened soldiers, but screaming madmen. A horde of frenzied humans, not soldiers, but commoners rushed at them, brandishing whatever arms they could scrounge up. Guns and swords, knives and broken bottles, grenades and rocks. They ran screaming into the first hail of lasfire, those behind them barely slowing as they trampled over the crumpled bodies of their fallen kin.
They too fell when the second volley of lasfire cut them down, but those behind them were the first to finally meet with the soldiers of the Empress head on in battle. Just as the sight of their fallen comrades did not phase them, running straight into a wall of bayonets did little to slow these frenzied citizens. They were unlike any enemy the Imperium's soldiers had yet faced. These weren't soldiers. They were civilians. Few wore armor, fewer still wore anything at all. Many weren't even armed with weapons, guns were a rarity among them, just repurposed knives and farming tools. Yet they attacked with the frenzy of wild animals.
No, less than animals. A wild animal didn't take such… pleasure from violence. When hurt, they did not shriek in pain, but moaned in pleasure. They did not scream in rage, but cackled with glee. They did not beg for mercy, they begged for more. Yet even in the face of these fanatics, who chased violence like an addict chasing a new high, the Empress's soldiers did not falter, not while she was in their midst. And the frenzied civilians, no matter how much they welcomed pain, could not hold forever.
Eventually, the Empress's forces breached into the city itself. Where once Athens had been a gleaming metropolis, it was now some horrific charnel pit. Blood and other fluids sat in the streets amidst huddled, shivering bodies of the stoned and corrupted. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the soft sounds of flutes and fiddles as the Imperial army marched upon the Acropolis.
"We have only faced mere chattel," Valdor pointed out to the Empress as the ascended the hill. "Where are his soldiers?"
"Gone, I imagine, same as him," The Empress suggested. "He won't be taking these mere… puppets with him. They no longer amuse."
At last, they reached the top of the will, where lied what had once been the Parthenon. The temple was empty, but not abandoned. At the foot of the six-armed goddess statue were fresh offerings. The sight offended the Empress, to know that worship of a Dark God had gone on for who knows how long on her own throne world.
A panel in the mosaic floor shifted, revealing a holoprojecter that quickly switched on. The Empress watched as Baren – rendered in statcicky holographic light – appeared before her eyes.
"Over here, dear Apokálypsi," Baren's smugly beckoned, his smirking form shimmering and flickering as the Empress approached. "You know… despite all of our little spats, I'm touched that you would come all this way just to see me off." He glibly placed a hand over his chest. "You make me blush, great Empress."
But the Empress had no patience for his games. "Why?" The word came out as a cold, demanding question that instantly had Baren's attention. "Why. Have. You. Done. This?" she demanded, eyes blazing with furious betrayal.
For once, Baren grew serious. "I could tell you what I have told countless others and say that you have simply begun to bore me," he honestly told her. "But no, I doubt I could ever get bored of you, dear Apokálypsi. The truth is… I have seen your future of humanity… and it sickens me."
The Empress scowled as Baren continued. "A world where the artist will fear the censure, where the furthest of experiences shall go unexplored, where a myriad of civilizations shall be snuffed out before they can be enjoyed. Your world, your utopia is dreadfully dull and unacceptable empty."
"It will be a world where humanity can best prosper. One humanity, one Imperium, one truth – the Imperial Truth," the Empress argued,
Baren grinned maliciously. "The Imperial Lie, you mean…"
The Empress ignored the slight. "And what would you suggest instead? That we follow the fate of the Aeldari and indulge ourselves to extinction?"
Baren shrugged. "Hmm, not the worst way to go extinct," he remarked. The Empress amused and Baren sighed. "It doesn't really matter, I suppose. I'm leaving. Dear Earth has been a loving home for these many millennia, but there's a whole universe out there just waiting for me."
The Parthenon suddenly began to rumble, as if struck by a violent earthquake. As the Custodes moved to protect the Empress, Baren bid her goodbye. "Farewell, Empress of Mankin," he told her, sounding oddly morose. "It's been fun." With that, the holoprojector switched off.
The Empress immediately turned to Valdor. "Get me a visual, what's going on out there?" she demanded.
"My liege, I'm getting reports of a Clipper-class ship leaving the city," The Captain-General quickly informed her, as her vox lit up with reports from both mortal and Custodes commanders. "My sisters say that it rose from beneath the very ground. There's mass casualties on both sides from where it erupted."
"All guns are to fire on that ship before it can leave orbit!" The Empress commanded.
Valdor immediately relayed the order to the artillery teams, but after a moment, she sighed in disappointment before turning to her liege. "We are too late, my Empress. The ship has already breached the upper atmosphere. Perhaps the Warp will…"
But the Empress cut her off. "No, they'll be welcoming him home." While Earth was now firmly under her thumb, the rest of the Sol System was still wild. Baren had escaped.
"…What are your orders, my liege?" Constance asked.
"…" The Empress was silent for a time before she finally gave her Captain-General a long, hard look. "Raze this place to its foundation and execute the survivors. The taint of Chaos cannot be allowed to fester. Bury his memory and salt the earth."
Valdor made the sign of the Aquilla. "Your will shall be done, oh Empress", she replied, before leaving the Parthenon to relay the Empress's orders to her troops.
The Empress was now alone, with only the statue of the Six-Armed Goddess for company. The enigmatic smile on the statue's lips almost resembled a victorious smirk…
-
Something was changing about the Glorianna-class battlecruiser known as Pride of the Empress, something in the air was shifting. The flagship of the Empress's Children Astartes Legion had always been just as much an artist's retreat as a battleship, reflecting their Primarch Freya's focus on culture as well as warfare, further aided by the mass presence of remembrancers of various disciplines amongst the Exploratory Fleet. But something was changing regardless. Where once it was a place of passion and expression, it was now becoming one of mania and obsession. The ship was never silent, the echoes of screams drifted from one end of the ship to the other in a constant choir of debauched indulgences.
The majority of these screams were of pain, but many were of delight. As time passed, telling the difference between the two became more difficult. Almost every hallway was filled with lights and music, and everywhere one turned, depravity and obscenity had become the latest trend that these artists chased with increasing desperation. All of this, this twisted metamorphosis, was barely registered by the Legion's master, the Primarch Freya of Chemos, known to many as the Phoenician.
The Primarch had far more pressing matters to deal with than the antics of a few mortal artists. Namely, the civil war that was threatening to tear the Imperium of Man into pieces. The reports she were getting were nothing short of madness. Isis rebelling, a massacre on Isstvan, Fenris burned and Hecate missing, she didn't know what to make of any of it. Not to mention, the two recent orders she had been issued – one from Regalia Dorn on Terra, the other from the apparently renegade Warmaster, both demanding she answer their summons for the brewing conflict.
Freya knew she would have to make a decision. The likely best one was to return to Terra and perhaps get some answers from their mother… but something stayed her hand. Some doubt in the back of her mind whispered that perhaps Isis had her reasons… That she should at least hear her sister out before making such a rash decision…
Freya shook her full head of beautiful, long white hair. Regardless, there was something else of great importance that she needed to focus on. Bequa Kynska, one of the Remembrancers stationed aboard the Pride and widely considered the greatest composer of the era, has spent several months preparing what she had assured the Primarch was to be her magnum opus, her Maraviglia. Freya had made her decision. Before she would chose whether to answer Dorn or the Warmaster, she would allow Kynska to perform her Maraviglia. She would give her beloved Empress's Children one last night of peace before they prepared themselves for war against their own kin.
Within her luxurious private chambers, the Primarch prepared herself for Kynska's performance. Her elaborate set of power armor was laid aside tonight. Instead, her pale, voluptuous form was wrapped in a purple silk dress that hugged every inch of her sensuous, but powerful frame. Slits in the fabric at her waist exposed the ivory curvature of her sloping hips and the dress was held up solely by a clasp connected to a choker wrapped around her throat, leaving the vast, creamy expanse of her cleavage exposed.
As Freya was just about to depart for the concert hall, her eyes fell onto a very peculiar object in her possession, one that had become a point of fixation for the Phoenician since the day it had fallen into her hands. It was an exquisitely crafted sword, with a wickedly curved blade wrought from purest and most shimmering silver. Freya had taken it months ago, from the heathen temple of the world of the Laer – a serpent-like race of four-armed xenos who had been put to humanity's torch.
To keep it was to tread on her mother's anti-alien policy, but how could Freya have not? Even if it was not of human-design, surely abandoning, or even destroying, something so beautiful would be a far more heinous crime. That was what the Primarch told herself anyway. For a moment, she thought of bringing it with her to the concert. The sword had barely left her side for weeks now, what could it possibly harm? And yet…
Something stayed the Primarch's hand. This… this was a night of peace, of celebration and revelry. What need was there for a sword on such a night? Even as something else in her mind screamed at her, pleaded with her, that she was making a mistake, Freya found that she could not bring herself to take the Laer-blade with her. Tonight was for celebration, she thought, war might wait until the morning. So, the Primarch departed from her chamber, leaving the Laer-blade behind, even as some rapidly weakening voice in the back of her mind pleaded with her that she was making a horrible mistake.
-
The auditorium had been transformed over the many moths since their departure from Laer. Repainted in a riot of colors with gold trim throughout, and panels decorated with all manner of splendidly overwrought artworks. The stage was a grand centerpiece, where sat several odd instruments of Kynska's own design, meant to mimic those they had encountered in the Laer-Temple. They were large, and cumbersome machines, closer in resemblance to weapons than musical instruments and yet Freya still yearned to hear what sweet notes they might produce.
The Phoenician's Nest was Freya's personal box seat, where she got the most splendid view of the stage. She watched with bated breath, her black eyes gleaming as Kynska and her orchestra stepped onto the stage and took their places. Freya raised her hand to the crowd and basked in the adoration displayed by her legion as thunderous applause built and shook the rafters. Her senior commanders accompanied the Primarch as she took her seat just as the lights dimmed and the Maraviglia began.
Tremendous noise erupted from the orchestra pit as the first notes blared from the newly conceived musical devices, the sound reaching to every corner of the auditorium with its wonderful instrumentation. Freya didn't dare breath as she felt the music wash over her, seeping its way into her mind, body, and soul. She wanted to laugh, and then cry, and then she felt a terrible anger build before it bled away and she felt a great melancholy settle upon her. Bequa Kynska thrashed like a lunatic atop her podium, jabbing and slashing the air with her baton, her hair a wild comet of blue as it whipped around her head.
As the music soared and thundered, Freya lost herself to it, barely aware as several audience members – those who had not visited the Laer-Temple – attempted to flee the room, only to be brutally beaten to death by those lost to the sway of the music. All she could focus on was the sound coming from the stage, and she watched with desperate need as the prima donna took her place, her angelic vocals now joining the cacophonous melody. The Primarch leaned forward, her hands gripping the railing of the boxseat with enough force to nearly shatter it as she found herself utterly enraptured by the Prima Donna's vocals. That any human, any mortal being could make such a sound… her mind could barely comprehend it, yet she craved it.
As the Maraviglia continued, there was a shift in the air, a heaviness that lingered and spread like a perfume… or blood in the water. Freya's great heart thundered beneath her bosom as the crowd below her descended in depraved ecstasy. Mortals writhed with carnal lust as her beloved Astartes did what only beings bred for war knew to do – kill. The cries and moans of the damned and dying merged with the vocals and notes of the Maraviglia, created a cacophonous wail of pure sensation that rippled in the air.
Then without warning, a terrifying scream cut through the crescendo of noise. Freya watched as the abused form of the Prima Donna twist into the air, her limbs spread-eagle as some unknown power took possession of her and twisted and snapped her body like a child's doll. A twisted metamorphosis overcame the singer. She howled as bones cracked and snapped and skin tore open. From her hands, black carapace split her fingers and shredded flesh until her hands resembled the snapping claws of some deep-sea scavenger. Her dress twisted into black leather that hugged her body as her scalp split apart, great curving black horns erupting from her skull.
One by one, the four other singers went through the same horrific transformation until six of the woman-things had taken their place. They danced and weaved throughout the crowd, trading tender caresses and grisly mutilations in equal measure. Mortal bodies fell to the ground where their claws and blades touched, writhing in ecstasy even as their blood pooled on the ground. Even Kynska herself swiftly fell to these beings of otherworldly grace. And yet, the Primarch's gaze never left the stage even as the moans and death wails of the living and dying became one and the same.
As the Daemonettes danced and slaughtered, the stage was left nearly empty save for a single being. This sixth being was not a lesser daemon, but Baren himself. The Daemon Prince stood alone on the stage, with flute in hand, playing a simple, yet haunting melody that managed to rise above the sounds of depravity and slaughter that had consumed the auditorium. Freya's heart skipped a beat as Baren turned his gaze upwards, their eyes locking.
His wings unfolded, beating, lifting him into the air and carrying him over to the Phoenician's Nest where the Primarch stood. He landed just behind her, and the elegant beauty suddenly felt a pressure on her body from behind, something firm prodding against her butt as slender hands gripped her wrist. "Ah~" she gasped in delighted surprise. He was holding onto her firmly, pressing into her from behind and Freya couldn't help but blush when she felt something long and hard press against her plush rear. She couldn't control her shameless lower body any, swinging her hips in big corkscrews, making the straining bulge grind against her ass from every angle.
"Hello, Freya.." he cooed in her ear, her head turning up slightly as he spoke. It was exactly the kind of voice she'd imagined he'd have, silky, but with a strong undertone of command. "I hope you've enjoyed our performance tonight~"
Freya giggled vapidly. "Oh, it was simply marvelous," she gushed.
Behind her, Baren grinned. "Oh, that's good…" he whispered, and Freya shivered as his lips brushed against her ear. "But… there's so much more I can so you if you let me… such sights for you to see…"
Before Freya could answer, there was a disturbance down below. With the singers dead and the orchestra now slaughtered, the Maraviglia had come to a stop, much to the dismay of the audience, particular her Empress's Children. With a cry of outrage, one of her captain's leapt from the box and into the crowd below. She fought her way to the stage and picked up one of Kynska's modified instruments. After a moment of frantic fiddling, a burst of harmonized sonic sound erupted from the device as the Astartes wept tears of mad relief. Soon, other Astartes picked up the other fallen instruments and turned them on the crowd. Mortals were ripped asunder under the waves of music as the legion bathed in the frenzy.
"My Empress's Children," Freya breathed her motherly pride. "What sweet music they make."
Behind her, Baren's smile turned malicious. His hand slip up the side of her curvaceous body and gently touched the side of her face as he smiled. "There are yet sweeter sounds to be made," he purred and Freya leaned into his chest with a soft sigh.
-
As her Astartes continued their macarbe encore in the auditorium, Freya allowed herself to be swept into Baren's arms and carried back to her private chambers.
Freya stood in the center of her room, buzzing with a mix of nervous excitement and lust as Baren slowly circled her like she was prey. The thought sent a pleasurable thrill up the Primarch's spine and a rosy flush spread from her face to the peaks of her heaving bosom. Baren grinned hungrily as he eyed Freya's exquisite form, the curve of her hips hugged by purple silks, the faint sheen of sweat on her ivory pale cleavage. He purred throatily and placed his hands possessively on her narrow waist.
"You seem nervous, Primarch Freya~" he purred, giving her hips a squeeze. He relished Freya's quiet gasp. "Do I… make you nervous?"
Freya shook her head softly, her long, silvery hair bouncing. The Primarch looked back at him, relaxing back into his chest slightly, like all the tension she'd been feeling had suddenly evaporated. "Noooo~" she cooed.
Baren grinned, one hand squeezed her waist, the other trailed up her leaned form and cupped her massive breasts. "I'm glad," he murmured into her ear. "I wouldn't want you to feel nervous, Freya. Do you know what it is I want?"
Freya shuddered. "You, mm, you want to… to ravish me," she gasped. "To have your way with me until there's not a thought in my head other than you and your…" She paused for breath, resting a hand on her massive chest. "…your huge cock…" She didn't sound all too opposed to the idea all things considered.
The daemon toyed with a stiff nipple, jostling more sweet gasps from between the Primarch's plush lips. "Only in so many words," he admitted freely.
Freya giggled like a lovestruck juve. "How flattering~" she simpered, fluttering her eyes at him. "Be gentle, please?" she asked, turning to face him. "It's been a while for me, you see~"
Baren smiled, almost pitifully. "I make no promises," he told her. Before Freya could answer, her dragged his hands up to the plunging neckline of her gown. It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful… but it was keeping him from an even greater prize so…
Sch-rippp!
Freya gasped in mixed dismay and excitement as Baren easily tore her gown to ribbons, the shredded remains pooling at her feet and leaving the Primarch's voluptuous body completely bare. With a firm hand on her shoulder, Baren pushed Freya to her knees. She gave a cute little gasp when he pulled his daemonic cock out.
"O-oh my!" Freya gasped, eyes shining. "I've never taken something so…" she smiled prettily up at him. "You're practically spoiling me, you know~" She ran her hands across her body, showcasing her absurdly wide hips and hefty, mouthwatering bust, blowing him a kiss that was aimed right for his shaft.
Freya could hardly restrain herself any longer. She gently gripped the fat shaft, giving it an experimental stroke. Her mouth flopped helplessly open, tongue unrolling from between her pink lips, slavish salivating, before slowly moving her lips forwards to give it a few teasing kisses. "Mwah! Mnn, mnl..schlp…" Those kisses turned to Freya wrapping her pink, plush lips around the head of Baren's shaft. The Primarch's eyes flashed and glazed over as the taste of thick, tasty daemon cock exploded on her tongue. "Mmm…" she moaned, eyelids fluttering as she began bobbing her mouth up and down his thick cockhead. "Mmp...schlp...schlp..."
"Good girl," Baren purred, and Freya hummed in hazy joy, soaking up his praise as she sucked him off. Her eyes flickered up towards him as he gave her heavy breasts a soft squeeze, making her moan in muffled pleasure as her mouth bulged around his shaft. She watched him stroke a hand up the flank of her massive bust, up her shoulder and neck...and cup her cheek in his hand. "Such a talented mouth you have, Freya~"
Pride swelled in Freya's breast as his praise and the Primarch decided to reward the daemon further for his sweet compliments. Pulling her hands from around his shaft, she cupped her massive tits and wrapped them around his shaft. She held eye contact with Baren as she guided her weighty breasts up and down, squeezing them tightly together around his thick cock. Baren groaned in pleasure as his shaft was wrapped in the heavenly soft embrace of Freya's magnificent bust. He rocked his hips back and forth, fucking her udders gently at first, but picking up the pace as the Primarch stroked his cock with her breasts harder and faster.
Freya twitched under his rough thrusts, a steady torrent of saliva and sticky precum running down her tits as he used her. Her lips moved back and forth over every inch of his shaft, throat gulping again and again as she tried to gasp for air, vision blurring. Even with tears pouring down her cheeks, streaking her mascara, she focused on keeping her head as straight as possible for him to thrust into. "Gaghk! Gaghk! Gaghk!" Freya gagged and coughed around the thick length pumping down her throat even as her cunt dripped onto the floor between her thick thighs. "Gaghk! Gaghk! Gaghk!" She gagged pitifully, her lips stuck to Baren's daemoncock, eyes wavering as she stared up at its immense, spit-soaked length.
Finally, with a desperate snarl of bliss, Baren emptied his balls down Freya's throat, flooding her mouth with thick, potent, daemon cum. "Glrg… Gurlph… glrhck…" Freya gagged and gulped down as much seed as she could, feeling his hot seed flood her mouth until it spilled out. "Gah!" she gasped as Baren pulled his cock from the depths of her throat, strands of saliva still connecting the head to her pretty pink lips.
The sight of the Phoenician naked on her knees, flushed chest heaving as saliva clung to her dainty lips drove Baren wild. Freya eeped as he grabbed her and threw her onto the silken bed sheets. "Oh, you brute!" she squealed in utter delight as he gripped her thick hips, pulling her thong down her hips. "Have you no patience?" she coyly asked, even as she happily spread her legs for him.
Baren grinned as he aligned his cock with Freya's soaking cunt. "I'm simply someone who enjoys living in the -" He suddenly buried his thick shaft deep into Freya's pussy. "-Moment!" he hissed in ecstasy as the Primarch let out an ecstatic cry as her walls were stretched. Her back arched, her massive tits pushed forward as her fists tightly clenched handfuls of silk sheets. "Such a tight little cunt…" the Daemon hissed as her pussy clenched tightly around his cock. Freya gasped, eyes fluttering as he slowly pulled his hips back, dragging his cock inch by inch out of her stretched-out cunt before slamming it back in with a possessive growl.
Freya moaned out obscenely as she felt Baren's big cock start to claim her body with full-length thrusts. He drove up into her again and again, the daemon huffing as he set himself to the task of using her thoroughly. Each heavy thrusts of his hips buried his cock up to her womb. Each pump stretched her pussy and sent waves of pleasure so intense that she saw stars. He was rubbing his hard body against her soft one, holding her down to prevent her from moving away at all. She loved every moment of it, making her squirm against him as she looked for more pleasure.
"Eeeeee~ Oooh, so good, so gooood~" Freya panted as she was rocked and fucked against her bed. Her eyes glazed over, her hair fanned out around her head like a silver pool, and her huge, pale tits quaked and shook atop her writhing chest. Not one of her mortal lovers had ever pushed her like this. Freya's eyes rolled back into her head as her body continued to get utterly defiled. Her wide hips were going wild, bucking up against Baren's, crashing up and down with all the weight of her thick thighs, hips and ass as Baren continued doing all he could to bury his cock deep inside her cunt.
The sight of Freya's massive, rosy-tipped breasts bouncing wildly drove the daemon wild. Licking his sharp, ivory teeth, Baren craned his head down and captured both stiff peaks in his maw. "Aaughn!" Freya cried in bliss as she felt Baren's warm mouth and sharp teeth wrap around her heavy tits. Her back arched and her hand cradled the back of Baren's head, pulling the daemon deeper into the valley between her massive tits. "Yes, yes, yes-yes-yes-yes! Cumming!" Freya mindlessly babbled as she reached a violent climax. Trying to keep herself quiet quickly failed as the Primarch let her inner desires loose. More than desire and pleasure, what she felt was pure need overpowering her mind, need for this daemon's fat, mind-numbing cock.
"This is it, Freya! I'm going to make you mine-forever!" Baren crowed, popping his mouth off her shivering tits and eager to claim this busty silver-haired beauty in the name of Slaanesh. As Freya wailed and moaned, his cock began to come deep inside her womb, filling up her most sacred place with his seed.
"Yessshhhh..." the Phoenician moaned deliriously. Orgasms were ripping through her body like an onslaught of lightning strikes, and the Primarch was fast losing her grip on reality. Baren held himself inside her, lying on top of her like that for a long time, while low squelching sounds rang out…until, several minutes later, he began to pull out. Freya panted where she lay, staring at the ceiling, her tongue flopped out the side of her mouth, convinced the Daemon finished with her.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
As the Phoenician lay panting in a daze, Baren recovered quickly. The Primarch barely had time to catch her breath before she was suddenly flipped over, just managing to catch herself on all fours. "My-my lord?" She got just as far as to say something when her entire body froze, stiff and shocked
Behind her, Baren grinned wickedly, his hands tracing up her hips and cupping her ample ass. "Smile, dear Freya. A world of new experiences and sensations await you. Starting now~" He gave her no time to respond before his hips suddenly surge forward. The Primarch's previously untouched asshole was now being speared open by the Daemon Prince's fat cock.
"Auggh---!" Freya wailed as her entire body was pushed and rocked forward by his forceful, rough thrusts. Her ass collided harshly against the Daemon's crotch, her tits swung wildly between her arms and her legs shook wearily. The Phoenician's sinfully buxom body writhed wildly under Baren, but made no effort to stop his brutal fucking. His cock was already so far in her ass that her body seemed to have no choice but to welcome the invading shaft, and her fat ass cheeks hugged the daemonic dick sinfully as it sank deeper and deeper inside of her.
As before, the Daemon Prince was showing the Primarch absolutely no mercy, forcing her to get used to this brutal act of ass-fucking the hard way. He gripped her slender waist tightly, using all his considerable height and weight to slam into her fantastic, pale, wobbling booty. Her ass rippled and jiggled behind her, and Freya could nothing to keep quiet as her pleasured moans echoed throughout the chamber and her lewd body shook and danced with a man's fat cock stirring up her insides. She babbled mindlessly, the sensations ripping through her body were too intense for her to have any hope of staying quiet.
Baren briefly took one hand from her waist, raising it high before bringing it down on the Phoenician's wobbling ass with a singing 'Whap!' Fryea eeped and tipped forwards, her arms giving out from under her and planting her moaning face into the silk bedding. Baren immediately grabbed her arms and pulled, hoisting the Primarch up and letting her frenzied moans fill the air as he ravaged her. Freya's mind reeled at the sensations, letting out little whimpers and moans around her now bleeding lip that drove the Daemon absolutely wild and only spurred him on to fuck her that much harder and faster as he delivered another sharp WHACK to the Primarch's ass, sending it into glorious, frantic jiggles.
Freya was teetering on the edge from her brutal ass-fucking when a third and final bright-hot, stinging SLAP was launched across her asscheeks, and finally, she was pushed over the edge into a second mind-shattering climax. As Baren released his grip on her wrists, Freya collapsed face first on to the bed, her massive tits pancaking out under her. Her hands clutched weakly at the sheets and her mouth bit deeply into them to muffle her wails as her hips shook and shuddered. "Aaaughhhh!" The Primarch's head shook and her ass wobbled as her pussy clenched and then squirted, her legs shaking and her eyes almost going blank for a second, mind completely lost. Being fucked twice in her own bed like a slut had driven her to an exhausting orgasm that threatened to steal the very breath from her lungs.
Again, Baren's cock erupted in Freya's hot body, flooding her insides with hot, potent daemon-seed. Beneath him, the Primarch wailed, moaned, crooned… and finally fell silent. As Baren's tugged his softening cock out of her, Freya fell into an exhaustive slump on her bed. Pearly white seed dripped from her holes and onto her horrendously expensive bedding and the sight of the thoroughly fucked-silly Primarch filled the Daemon with a twisted sense of pride.
"You belong to the Dark Prince, now, little Primarch," the Daemon purred with malicious sweetness, his claws gently running through Freya's long, luxurious silver hair. It surprised him to find that the Empress's Children were to be the Goddess's chosen legion. Personally, he would've gone with the White Scars, if not for the damn Clown switching the gestation-pods. Oh well, what's done is done.
Besides, there was something personally satisfying that the "Empress's Children" were to be the personal legion of the Prince of Pleasure.
The Daemon Prince stood, leaving Freya to rest. Now for the other task he had come here for. Baren stepped away from the bed and languidly approached the wall where the Laer-Blade sat hanging on the wall. Picking up the sword, he unsheathed it and admired it shimmering silver blade for a moment.
"I know you're in there, Laeran," the Prince spoke, contempt sewn in with each syllabul.
There was silence for a time before a voice, seductive and inviting answered in his mind from within the sword. Prince… Baren. The bound-daemon chuckled mirthlessly. Dear friend…
"It's been some time, hasn't it, Laeran?" Baren asked, faux-affableness dripping in his voice.
16,666 years, yes, the Laer-Daemon acknowledged. There was another chuckle. I take it our Prince has sent you? For the dear Phoenician and to free me from this… most uninviting of habitats?
"I have been sent to fetch Freya, yes," Baren admitted. "You though? Well…" Baren chuckled cruelly. "I'm afraid the Goddess made no such promises for you."
There was another pause and the bound-daemon chuckled again, but there was a razor's edge of panic in it. S-surely, surely you jest? The Laer-Daemon tried.
"I do not," Baren bluntly told them.
If this is about that time with one of your Daemonettes…
"I do not like being poached from," Baren coldly told the Daemon. He had bound the traitorous little bitch to a silver comb and threw it Goddess knew where on some miserable uninhabited ice world.
Surely, we can come to some kind of arrangement, the Daemon tried again.
"I'm sorry to say not," Baren informed, not at all sorry.
The bound-daemon panicked. I-! I have brought the Primarch into the fold! It exclaimed. I showed her the path of the Dark Prince!
"And I will guide her on that path," Baren retorted. "So thank you for the help, but I'll be taking things over from here on out."
The Laer-Daemon growled. You miserable upjumped bag of flesh and senses! If I wasn't trapped in here-!
"Oh, but you are trapped in there, aren't you~" Baren purred, dragging his claw along the length of the blade with a sharp whine. He sighed. "Be grateful that I am in a charitable mood tonight, Laeran. If not, I would leave you frozen at the bottom of a glacier in some forgotten corner of the galaxy." He took the Laer-blade and tore open a portal to the Warp. "Instead, I shall let the Goddess decide your fate. Be seeing you, my friend!"
Baren! Baren! BAREN! Laeran screamed as the Daemon Prince casually tossed the Laer-Blade in the screaming hole in reality before sealing it shut once more.
Freya would never noticed the sword's absence. Not when Baren had a replacement waiting for her already. From the Immaterium, he summoned a replica of the Laer-Blade, bound – not with a Keeper of Secrets – but with a Daemonette who had offended him. The Primarch would never know the difference.
He placed the sword onto the wallrack just as Freya began to wake. "Mmm… my lord?" she tiredly asked, raising her exhausted and sweat-soaked body off the bed.
Baren turned to her with a dazzling smile. "Sweet Freya," he purred, offering her his hand. She took it with a swooning sigh and he helped her to her feet. Holding the Primarch close, he tore open a new Warpgate. "Come, Phoenician," he whispered such sweet words into her ear. "I have such sights to show you~"
The two disappeared into the Warp as somewhere in the vast, formless Immaterium, She-Who-Thirsts smiled.
Her Legion had been found.
***
Go check out a book called, "Real-life gamer," if you want to read something wacky. It's written by Random_Lore....
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