Summary:
The first thirty minutes of the Pride round.
Notes:
Hi all,
Please note that this 18+ content is fiction and should not be romanticized or replicated.
This chapter is dark. It might (will) make many readers feel uncomfortable. You have been warned.
Definitely consider getting some fresh air after this one and give yourself some self-love today.
I'll be dropping a new chapter in time for the holidays, so do keep an eye out! It's one of my faves as it starts a new major arc in the series.
An Ember Among Shadows
Libby blinked open her eyes, and the chaos of the arena instantly swelled in her ears.
She was crumpled on her side, her shoulder and hip pressed into the hard platform. Her hands were bound in front of her by a long length of rope, looped around her wrists several times and anchored through a heavy bolt in the middle of the platform. Maybe the stockade had been dismantled, or maybe it'd disappeared into the floor much like the champions had.
Regardless, its absence filled her with equal parts relief and unease.
"My good Hellions, welcome back to the second half of the Unification Rite. If you're not already tuned in, I'm afraid you've missed your window. Premium access is officially closed, and no new entries will be accepted." The gold at his neck, ears, and teeth winked in the glare of the overhead lights. "For those of you who paid for the immersive experience, tell me. How has it felt to be a champion and split our little tribute open with your cock?"
An ear-splitting cry broke out across all fifteen levels of the arena, tens of thousands clamoring to respond. Fenrow's sneering grin was repeated across each screen, and his sly wink felt like it was meant for her alone.
"Our darling debutante has been cleaned off and is ready to face her next trial. The stage is set, the players are ready. Everything is in position for a truly spectacular performance. It's time to dive back in and pick up where we left off. Let the fourth round begin!"
Fenrow pivoted on his heel and walked the short distance to his seat. He settled into the high-back chair, splaying his legs and steepling his fingers over his chest. He leaned over and whispered something to Galen. The darker brother didn't respond, his piercing diamond gaze never once leaving Libby's curled form.
The platform started moving. After a series of loud clicks, it screeched to a halt before a new dais, placing her face to face with Pride.
She observed them from under her lashes, not offering any of them her gaze. Though despite her efforts to remain impassive, a dull spark of surprise went through her when she realized the Sovereign of Pride was not one demon, but two.
The longer she covertly stared, the more certain she was. They were twins, one male and one female. Both were a black as deep as the night sky, their faultlessly sculpted bodies gleaming faintly as if they were honed from polished onyx. Their strange hair was a sinuous inky cloud that curled around their aristocratic skulls, a semi-transparent miasma that swallowed all surrounding light. The graceful, slender female was seated in a marble throne as dark as she was. The male, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, held perfectly still on all fours in front of her, supporting her feet with the defined planes of his back.
"I can't believe we're required to sit here and suffer through this. This mortal whore has somehow managed to bewitch not one, but two drow into turning this Rite into a fucking spectacle." Her high voice, far too sweet for the venom behind it, resonated throughout the entire arena. "Doesn't anyone else find it insulting that we're expected to pander to her pleasure in this farce of a ritual? I mean really, this human is nothing but a vessel. A means to an end."
Instead of feet, thin stilettos grew from the ends of her long legs, clearly part of her form rather than a mere fashion decision. She'd been digging the point of one heel into the back of the kneeling male, a cold smile contorting her lushly etched lips. He did not move, as still as a statue carved from obsidian and unwavering discipline.
Not willing to acknowledge that his display of composure was what ultimately spurred her to uncurl from her fetal position, Libby pushed herself upright with her bound fists until she sat with her back straight. She drew her knees together and placed her arms in her lap, choosing to stare at some distant point along the arena wall. She let her eyes unfocus, allowing her to see the sovereigns more clearly from her peripheral vision. Without the stockade to block her sight and force her to bend at a cruel angle, she was at least able to hold herself with something approaching dignity.
"I admit, I was a little skeptical at first," Lust said. "Now I feel it brings a certain… je ne sais quoi to an otherwise dull and outdated ceremony." They gave a delicate shrug of their shoulders. "No offense to you of course, Envy. The last Rite you hosted had a very classical charm to it. Gathering us in that stuffy throne room of yours while you lorded over us was such a warm and welcoming display of hospitality."
Envy turned, and the look he gave Lust was so withering it could've flayed flesh from bone. Their daises were only separated by a handful of feet, and the air between them practically crackled with hostility.
A mouth above Envy's left pectoral cracked open and started to cackle, a dry, scraping sound that harshly chittered like insects in Libby's ears. Another mouth opened on the right side, its blackened lips pulling back from needle-thin teeth. "Fuck you," it spat. "My Rite was dignified and conducted with the proper decorum. Just because you lack the attention span for anything that doesn't involve instant gratification doesn't make it boring."
"Instant gratification is my specialty, darling. Plus, I don't seem to remember you complaining about it when you sought me out last century."
Envy shot from his seat, his serrated teeth gnashing on the lengths of chain pulled taut across his primary mouth.
"And unlike some," Lust purred, unfazed by Envy's bristling hostility, "my penchant for gratification continues to serve me rather well, don't you think?" Lust gestured to the score screen with a sweep of their wrist and a wolfish smile on both sides of their divided face.
Another voice cut in just as Envy took two purposeful steps towards Lust's dais, his scarred hands contorting into claws.
"For fuck's sake," the voice said around a cough. Libby subtly angled her head to observe the speaker. Of all the demons present, it was Sloth who'd spoken. "Should we pause this Rite so you two can finish your dick measuring contest?" He flipped the page of his book. "News flash for both of you: Wrath's is bigger than both of yours combined. So shut the fuck up and move on."
Wrath pointed at Sloth with a grin. "This right here? This is why you're the only one of these fuckers I can stand. I fucking love you, man."
"As I was saying," the feminine personification of Pride cut in, her indignant face pinched in irritation. "All the vessel requires is a pulse, a warm hole or two, and an extensive history of sin. There's nothing in the official rules that stipulates we need to make it enjoyable for her."
Libby knew the blood had drained from her face, and she tried very hard to hide the fact that she'd started shaking all over again. It was partially from fear, there was no denying that, but it was also from the boiling, white-hot anger filling the cavity just behind her sternum.
A viperous smile formed on Pride's glossy mouth. The female sovereign pointedly glanced away to hide a grin behind her fingers, an obsidian signet ring flashing on her longest finger. "Truth be told, I don't care if we earn any points in this Rite. Pride will still participate, of course. The old laws and our traditions demand it, after all, even if my brother has proven himself incapable of upholding either of those things himself."
If she hadn't already been observing the male crouched on all fours from the corner of her vision, she would've missed the fissures that had formed and faded under his right eye in the same breath.
"If anything, I will endeavor to make sure she doesn't enjoy it at all." She angled her head down at Libby, the motion skewing her head at an unnatural degree.
Her gaze was unnerving. Solid onyx orbs revealed nothing, their focus impossible to determine. The sovereign could've been staring directly at her or at the wall behind her. There was truly no way to know for sure.
Libby let her eyes fall shut, ignoring the sting of tears pricking beneath them. She would not cry. This spiteful bitch didn't deserve it.
There was still a single ember of defiance, one stoked by her fury that she guarded just behind her silence. No matter what they did, she wouldn't let them take it from her.
"Do know why Pride has selected twenty champions for you, our dear, pathetic tribute?" Pride's amplified words carried throughout the arena, the intensity of it shaking the very foundation of the mega-structure.
Libby's eyes opened, and for the first time, she made direct eye contact with the female sovereign. Even though the jet-black demon was levelling her with a withering glare, she did not break her vow of silence.
The female Pride held up a manicured hand. A wall of obsidian bodies appeared around the perimeter of the platform, hemming her in on all sides. In spite of Libby's outward projection of bravery, her mind had never stopped reeling. Now, with an inescapable ring of predators looming around her, her thoughts started to evaporate to static one by one.
The female sovereign was reveling in the gleeful attention of the crowd, holding out both arms as she addressed them. "No? Then let me tell you. Your champions are determined by how many times you committed a grievous offense for that particular sin. Honestly, I find it a little surprising that someone like you managed to commit this many acts of pride, especially considering how dull your life was. If what we witnessed of your sex life was any indication, that is."
Laughter erupted across the stands, amongst the sovereigns. The only ones who weren't laughing were Fenrow, Galen, and the male sovereign of Pride.
A flash of awareness surged through her dissolving consciousness. Had she truly sinned so egregiously that many times in her life? There had been fifteen champions for Lust, eighteen for Envy, and two for Sloth. Thirty-five demons had raped, sodomized, and assaulted her in the span of three hours, if the timer at the bottom right of the screens could be believed.
It didn't make sense. She'd lived a quiet, uneventful life. She'd kept her head down, minded her own business. Life had been… mundane. A constant repeat of work, home, and sleep. Where in that cycle had she had the opportunity to commit so many sins?
"I can only imagine your Lust penalties were accumulated from the obscene content you must've consumed. Not to mention your various…" she tilted her head the other way, her words a discordant echo to Libby's own thoughts, "…other unrefined predispositions." She stared up at her, somehow managing to do it without flinching. Those strange, solid-black eyes gave nothing away, but this time, she knew Pride was looking directly at her.
The more Libby considered her circumstances, the more holes she continued to find in the narrative.
Why did they need a vessel to destroy some great, ancient barrier when Fenrow and Galen had clearly entered Earth and abducted Libby without issue? They had used a portal to bring her here in the first place, for god's sake. Couldn't they have staged their grand Armageddon from that remote entrance point in Nova Scotia or from any other gateway that likely existed around the world? Clearly it wasn't just Fenrow and Galen who could make the journey to Earth. Each circle needed to stock a fresh supply of humans for their infernal ritual every five years, after all.
Something wasn't adding up. Though knowing that didn't bring her any closer to the truth.
"Come now, little mute. You can't possibly believe that staying silent is enough to preserve the pittance of pride you have left, do you?"
Smoke swirled around Pride's noble head and shoulders, flowing down to partially cover the swell of her perfect breasts. Her chiseled brows lifted. "Your pride has long been defiled beyond redemption, much like the rest of you. But don't worry. By the time I'm done, you'll have nothing left, least of all what little remains of your pride."
"If any of you make her come," she announced, addressing her assembled champions, "then I will personally castrate you and send you to the flesh districts to live out the rest of your days as a slave. So unless you want to become a pitiful fuckhole for the masses for the rest of your lives, I suggest you make sure she doesn't enjoy this." A broad grin split her face, revealing a mouthful of carnivorous teeth. "Let's do our part to help her find her voice. I want it raw from the sweet sound of her screams before this ends. Don't disappoint me."
The only thing keeping her terror from spiraling into mindless hysteria was one cold piece of logic: she still had two more trials ahead of her. They had to keep her alive and intact to see the Rite through to the end. There was always the chance they didn't need her whole, that whatever came after could be done to a broken shell just as easily. But it was the only shred of hope she had left, and she clung to it with white-knuckled desperation.
Her gaze lifted to the terrace of its own volition. Galen and Fenrow's faces were cold, inscrutable masks of stone. They had never involved themselves after they turned over the round to the sovereigns, and this time wasn't any different. They made no move to intervene, their bodies coiled with a tension that could have been anything from anticipation to quiet, menacing hunger.
"BREAK HER, BREAK HER, BREAK HER!" the legion of demons shouted.
Twenty champions stepped forward in unison, each bearing the same polished onyx skin as their sovereigns. They were even larger than Envy's chosen, though their bodies were longer and leaner. All had not one, but two carbon-black cocks hanging from between their legs. The shafts were equal in size, and both heads were distinctly conical in shape.
Libby wrenched her eyes from the upper level, tasting copper in her mouth as hatred and fear warred for supremacy. She dug her heels into the floor and lurched to her feet, nearly tripping over the rope in the process. Blind animal instinct had her frantically looking for an opening, even though there wasn't one. She didn't want to let them take her, she didn't want to let them win.
"MAKE HER SCREAM, MAKE HER BEG!"
Her gaze shifted from one living shadow to the next. The first approached her, his twin cocks already fully erect. In a move too fast for her to track, he painfully seized her by the hair, dragged her under him, and pinned her to the ground by the throat before she could raise her bound hands to defend herself.
Someone shoved her knees up towards her chest until she was bent in half. Despite the futility of the act, her body responded on its own, a primal sense of self-preservation driving her to try and close her legs even as they were forced open. A heavy strap was fastened under her back and locked across the backs of her thighs, tightened so her legs were immobile and flush with her abdomen.
A punishing hand came down on her right flank, then her left. The dual stings jolted through her body, forking out from the impacts in electric spikes of agony. More strikes collided with her thighs and backside, again and again until a rain of open-hand slaps pelted her without reprieve. Searing pain filled her lungs, hooking sharp claws into every cell and receptor.
The champion gripping her by the neck used the strap and his suffocating hold to manipulate her like a doll and trapped her torso between his void-black legs. His engorged cocks filled her vision, each one as thick as her wrist and pulsing with a rhythmic throb that seemed independent of his heartbeat. The tapered heads wept a clear fluid that dripped onto her cheek, the droplets hot like liquid wax.
"Open," he commanded, applying an agonizingly sharp pressure to the hinge of her jaw. More pain flared, and she opened her mouth on a silent gasp.
She hadn't realized someone was holding the profane chalice above her head until the contents were streaming directly into her mouth and splattering across her face and neck. Her stomach heaved the moment the hot slurry hit her tongue, but strong hands clamped her jaw shut, forcing her to swallow. It was pungent and viscous, clinging to the roof of her mouth and sliding down her throat in glutinous strands. A twisted corner of her psyche sang with shameful want, and she hated that corrupted piece of her soul almost as much as she hated them.
She was allowed two short lungfuls of air before the demon straddling her chest held her skull immobile and slammed both shafts as far into her throat as they could go. Her body convulsed violently, helplessly. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her esophagus constricted around the double invasion. All the while, the constant blows never eased on her ass and thighs, every hit turning the flesh more angry and more raw. The champion continued pushing past her body's resistance, working his lengths further into her gullet. Her vision was already dimming at the edges, her body's desperate attempts to expel him only seeming to heighten his pleasure.
The remainder of the assembled shadows looked on in silence, their gazes hungrily raking over her exposed body. Libby clamped her eyes shut, trying to block them out, to block out the demon obstructing her airway and grinding his pelvis against her lips.
The champion in her mouth suddenly slapped her face so hard she saw stars. She released his cock with a wet pop, coughing and sputtering around mouthfuls of air. Dazed and still struggling to settle her swimming vision, she could only watch as he slid down her body and positioned both pointed heads over the puckered bud of her anus. His mouth split open to reveal wickedly sharp fangs that flashed with delight as he took in her horrified face.
Libby tried to shy away, but several hands firmly gripped the leather strap, her shoulders, her arms, and tilted her hips up to meet him. The smoky plumes coiling around his crown shifted like snakes as he used his body weight to pin her to the ground. He drew both conical heads together with a clawed hand and roughly drove his cocks into her ass, the residual semen coating her insides allowing him to enter her in one merciless stroke. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the same time foam bubbled up and frothed at her lips.
The pain was blinding, obliterating, a red-hot poker driven straight into her center. A scream was trapped inside her chest, a pressure that furiously clawed against the inside of her ribs. She sucked in a shuddering breath and used every sliver of willpower to hold it there. If she opened her mouth, she would devolve into a wreck of ragged screams and grant the onlooking sovereigns and the insatiable audience the satisfaction they craved. Her silence was the last lifeline that reminded her of who she was, the only thing tethering her mind to her body.
"To avoid any misplaced temptation," a high voice called out, the words unable to pierce through the fog of her agony, "my champions will be applying an extra measure of precaution." Libby heard a loud tear, and at first she was terrified she'd finally torn from the brutal assault. Only moments later, a cold, clinging strip was smoothed into place against the bare seam of her pussy, followed by two more.
"Twenty champions, and not one of them will ever know what your cunt feels like." The voice tsked and laughed, and every demented denizen of Hell laughed right along with her. "Trust me, your filthy mouth and sullied ass will be more than sufficient for our purposes."
Just as Libby's panic swelled and threatened to overwhelm and drown her in its depths, she felt the fringes of her mind brush against a single gleaming thread of strength. It floated in the yawning chasm of her core consciousness, a rippling beacon of resolve that called out to her from the darkness. She reached for it with trembling fingers, straining to draw it towards her, and caught it just before it could slip away.
Calm down, an inner voice commanded. Take back your control.Don't let them steal what they can never have.
Fenrow's words to the audience came back to her as a whisper, and she reminded herself that her rectum had reverted to its original, taut condition. If she reduced the tension in her body, if she could force herself to relax, then that might make it possible for her to endure this. She willed her lower half to slowly ease, encouraging her muscles to unclench and soften.
Surviving this was the only way she could fight back. It wasn't weakness to submit her physical form to her tormentors, not if it meant she wasn't letting them crush her soul beneath their heels.
She'd barely managed to relax her lower body when another champion of Pride threw a leg over her head and straddled her face. She only had time to suck in a single breath as he lodged one cock, then the other all the way into her windpipe. His heavy testicles instantly smothered her eyes and nose, leaving her blind and trapped without oxygen. She thrashed and gagged, desperately trying to inhale past the weight of his heavy, suffocating flesh.
Her full-body convulsions made her channel clutch and spasm around the champion pressed against the defenseless curve of her backside. He roared his release seconds later, his grip on her hips tightening until she thought her bones might shatter. He pumped her full of his unbearably warm cum, his twin shafts pulsing in tandem, not withdrawing until every last drop was deposited deep inside her.
Libby had been seconds from passing out when the champion in her mouth ripped himself free. She was given less than a heartbeat to recover when he moved to replace the one who'd just slid himself from her ass.
The first champion sauntered towards her, the thick film of white semen glazing his shafts a bright contrast against his ink-dark skin. She shook her head, the only part of her body she could still move, as she realized what he intended to do. Then fingers were in her mouth, hooking around her teeth and holding open her aching jaw.
He knelt over her and sank his first cock past her quivering lips, smearing the slickened length across her tongue. She instantly retched, every cell in her body rejecting the abhorrent intrusion.
A punishing tremor went through her as another dual-lengthed cock entered her ass at the same time the one above her face stuffed his other member into her mouth. A long wail nearly rose inside her plugged throat, an onslaught of despair racing through her body and into the overheated hands of her assailants.
The process was repeated ten, then fifteen more times. Every champion took a turn violating her ass only to dip their spent cocks into her mouth, making her bathe them with her tongue and taste the collective essence of their ceaseless barrage.
True to the female sovereign's word, Libby did not come. The part of her that still clung to her humanity was glad for it. It made it easier for her to keep a firm hold on her rage.
Other than the racking coughs the champions had elicited from her while terrorizing her throat, she had not allowed a single sound to escape her lips. She remained true to herself, even if maintaining her silence had been as hard as swallowing glass.
Which had only served to earn Narcissa's ire.
"Here," Narcissa called out, tossing something over the side of the dais with an errant flick of her wrist. One of the champions caught it, though Libby couldn't see what it was past the wall of obsidian bodies. "Let's see if she can continue to bore us with this morose, penitent act once we've broken her in like the lowly bitch she is."
The champion walked through the horde of demons swarming around her, an iron collar with a heavy length of chain clutched in his hand. She didn't know what new hell they had planned for her, and despite how exhausted she was, she still had the presence of mind to feel true fear. He crouched above her head and maneuvered the offensive object around her throat, latching the collar in place with a dull click. She didn't even have the energy to fight him. Surrounded by so many, watched by so many, what point was there in trying to struggle?
One moment she was on her back, the next she was being hauled upwards by the newest addition to her torment. The champion holding the chain didn't wait for her to find her footing. He turned and began to walk, the heavy iron links snapping taut instantly.
Libby pitched forward, the collar biting deep into her neck. She barely caught herself with her bound fists moments before her face crashed into the hard wood of the platform.
"Walk," the champion commanded, not looking back.
Libby scrambled to obey, driven by the instinctive need for air. The strap binding her thighs made normal movement impossible. She couldn't crawl, she couldn't even separate her knees to find a feasible rhythm. To keep up with the relentless pull of the chain, she had to plant her bound fists and heave her lower body forward in a pathetic, shuffling hop. The length of rope that secured her to the platform's center was stretched to its limit, condemning her to move in a tight circle like a tethered animal.
The audience and the sovereigns howled in delight, clapping their hands in time to her lurching movements. Her shins scraped against the floor with every totter forward, and the skin on her knees quickly rubbed raw.
"Heel, mortal bitch," a voice sneered from behind.
Another champion fell over her, his great size making it possible for him to plant his hands past her shoulders and fully encase her in the cage of his body. He wrenched her hips back with one hand and slotted himself in the space between her ankles. He drove himself home in one brutal thrust, crowing loudly in triumph. She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste copper, swallowing her sharp cry along with the metallic taste of her blood.
Every time she moved, the demon behind her followed, remaining bowed over her body and slamming his hips against her buttocks to keep himself buried inside her. His thrusts forced the collective seed of his predecessors to come pouring out around his shaft and down her thighs in thick, hot rivulets. Each lurching hop forward only expelled more of the viscous fluid from her body, leaving a slippery, glistening trail in her wake.
From just above, Pride leaned over the side of her dais. Her lips pulled back from black fangs as she took in Libby's unfocused, glassy eyes.
"Oh my. Look at the terrible mess you're making, dear," Narcissa said between laughs. "Still clinging to that stubborn silence, are we? How adorably precious. You're dripping cum like a broken faucet and painting the platform in a trail of shame, but please, do hold onto that last shred of your pride."
Libby's mouth opened, though whether to scream, to curse her, or to cry, she didn't know.
Before she could betray herself by doing any of those things, the chain was yanked taut, forcing her to hobble her bound knees forward just to suck in a ragged gasp of air.
"Enough," the leader grunted after four more champions had used her in quick, remorseless succession. He stopped walking and wrapped the thick iron links around his forearm, shortening the slack.
With a display of terrifying strength, he suddenly hauled her upward until her bleeding knees disconnected from the ground. The metal collar cinched tight, instantly sealing her windpipe shut as she dangled like meat on a hook for two terrifying seconds. She shoved her fingers between the metal shackle and her throat to relieve the crushing pressure, her calves kicking wildly.
The champion behind her stepped in close, clutching her across the waist to steady her swaying form, and drove himself upward. The vertical angle allowed him to bottom out, impaling her on his cock while every upward thrust reduced the tension on the collar, allowing her to steal what little air she could.
Black spots danced across her vision, multiplying until they threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn't breathe, scream, or do anything but hang there as a dying weight and endure the final, frantic strokes of his release.
The twentieth champion roared, finally emptying himself into her. Only then did the tension holding her aloft vanish, and the chain went slack without warning.
She didn't fall; she crashed. She crumpled to the ground in a heap, nothing more than a discarded puppet whose strings had been cut.
Distantly, she recognized the sovereigns had long gone silent. They watched Libby, their expressions cast in varying degrees of shock, pity, or rapture. She didn't have anything left in her to question their varied reactions, nor could she bring herself to care.
Lust covered their mouth with a hand, looking a little green around the edges. "Even I haven't done something quite so foul to a tribute," they said, their crystal blue eyes narrowing in distaste. "And here I thought my champions were depraved. At least they still left her with some dignity to lose."
"Come off it already, Narcissa," Wrath cut in. "I still want her conscious when my champions have a go. At this blasted rate, she'll end up crawling to them on her belly and start begging them to get it over with." Despite his annoyance, he was still idly stroking himself as he took in Libby's bloodied knees, raw throat, and cum-slicked thighs.
The female sovereign of Pride whipped her head towards him, the long lengths of her smoking hair rising to billow above her head.
"How dare you address me by that name," she said, her sharp nails scoring the marble armrests. "I am the only sovereign of Pride and the First Monarch of the Original Sin. I rule it unchallenged and absolute." She slammed her heel into the back of her twin's neck and ground his face into the platform. "My dear older brother is a relic of the forgotten past, and I am the new reality. You would do well to remember that, Asmodeus."
A ruby glow flared to life from the depths of Wrath's smoldering gaze. The temperature suddenly spiked until it became almost unbearable, and the air shimmered with heat.
"Strange," Wrath said, leaning forward in his seat. "I don't recall the rest of us ratifying your claim with our blood, Narcissa. Call yourself whatever helps you sleep at night. Won't change what happens when your leash on him finally snaps."
"I don't need your approval to—"
"Wake me when she's done throwing her tantrum," Sloth interrupted, swiveling his black and chrome leather chair towards his hookah and replacing the coal with a fresh square. "I need to get in a fucking nap before the new episode of Kyoto Ghoul comes out tonight, so if this shit goes past the scheduled time and fucks with my REM, I'm out of here."
Throughout their conversation, two champions had decided to take additional turns with her slackened form. The last one was finally finishing, and Libby allowed something approaching relief to flood her as the last cock, covered in a thick membrane of semen, withdrew from her thoroughly used bottom and utilized her mouth to clean himself off.
Narcissa ignored the commentary of the other sovereigns and leaned over to speak to her kneeling brother. "With twenty loads seething in her bowels," she said, her deceptively delicate features pulling back into a sneer, "I think it's only fair the once-mighty sovereign gets a chance to participate. What say you, sweet brother? My champions worked with such admirable efficiency that we still have half the round remaining. It would be such a waste to leave our allotted time unused, don't you think? We might as well make the most of it." She ran a hand over her twin's ridged skull, her fingers going directly through his semi-translucent strands. "Come now. Why don't we show them what's left of your precious pride?"
Everyone, including the assembled royals and those in the stands, had gone silent. Only the howl of the wind and the snap of the flags that dotted the arena cut through the hush.
Narcissa shifted her legs from Pride's back. Without a word, he smoothly rose to his feet and unfolded to his full height. The sovereign descended from the platform on an unseen current, his bare feet touching down on the floor a few paces away from where Libby's body had curled back in on itself.
Pride's champions parted, bowing their heads as he approached. He towered over them by at least a foot, the tallest among them barely reaching his shoulders. His claws elongated with every step, and Libby felt her stomach plummet, certain he intended to eviscerate her with them the same way his sister had done to her spirit.
Just once, Libby glanced towards where Fenrow and Galen presided over the arena. The screen above their heads showed them in sharp detail. The pale elf's mask had cracked to reveal a wild, unhinged expression twisted across his face. Galen's hand was wrapped around Fenrow's bicep, his knuckles white with the effort of holding the other drow still. Galen's own features were shuttered, his thoughts on what had happened and what was about to happen impossible to decipher.
Pride came to a stop just above her, entirely blocking her view of the terrace. He peered down at her with those unsettling, fathomless eyes.
The sheer scale of him this close was almost overwhelming. The air had thickened to an oppressive degree, the sensation not unlike the low pressure of an approaching thunderstorm. His proximity alone sent numbing pins and needles coursing throughout her weary limbs.
Her body understood what her mind refused to accept: she was in the presence of someone who could unmake her with a single thought.
Pride lowered into a crouch, his razor-sharp claws gleaming as they descended toward her exposed belly. She braced for pain, her eyes squeezing shut.
His claws cleanly sliced through the strap binding her thighs. Libby's legs bonelessly fell open to the sides, leaving her completely exposed and defenseless but for the strips of tape covering her sex.
"Go on, then," Narcissa said from her dais. "Do what you were made for. Break her and what remains of her paltry pride." She'd spat the last word. "Fuck her ass until she remembers her place, for I tire of her boorish silence. And this time, I want to hear her scream."