Rex didn't wait for their protests to fade. He stood over them, the heavy silence of the cell broken only by the ragged, humiliated breathing of the two queens.
His eyes, cold and predatory behind the mask, scanned their bodies not as people, but as prizes to be stripped and consumed.
"First," Rex muttered, his voice a low, vibrating growl, "let's get rid of these pathetic rags you call armor."
He reached down, his large, calloused hands grabbing the collar of Gorvasha's leather tunic. With a violent, singular jerk, the reinforced stitching groaned and then surrendered.
The sound of tearing leather echoed like a gunshot in the small cell. Gorvasha let out a sharp, guttural grunt of indignation as the garment was ripped downward, exposing the swell of her massive, green-skinned breasts.
The heavy metal of her chains tugged at her neck, forcing her to arch her back, making her even more vulnerable to his gaze.
