Conquest of Queen Leshara Chapter 4 - The Taste of Defeat (End)

---

The Conquest of Queen Leshara Chapter 4

0:00

This Voiceover is done by text to speech, as a demo. Let me know if you like this feature, and I'll include more!

---

As the last spasms of Damien's orgasm faded, he finally released his grip on Leshara's hips, sliding out of her with a wet, humiliating sound. She sagged forward, collapsing onto the altar bonelessly as every bit of strength she had left gave out. Her once-proud warrior's frame was now nothing but a broken, trembling mass of humiliation and defeat surrounded by a halo of her messy, sweat-soaked red hair, the tangled strands sticking to her tear-soaked face as she lay panting on the cold stone.

She barely felt it as soldiers moved forward and began to untie the rope that had held her here for hours, their rough hands adding to her misery as they yanked on the knots. They were not gentle as they freed her from the altar that had been the stage for her humiliation and degradation and lifted her up, but the moment they let go of the Queen Leshara slumped to her knees on the cold stone floor, her legs too weak to support her weight. Her once-proud warrior's frame trembled uncontrollably as aftershocks of pain and violation wracked her body. The clanking of her armor echoed hollowly in the chamber, a cruel reminder of her utter defeat.

She was acutely aware that she remained the most clothed woman in the room, with at least her torso still encased in ornate golden plate. The armor that had been her pride, her symbol of strength and martial prowess, now served only to mock her. Its gleaming surface was marred by blood and other fluids, the metal dented and scratched from the brutality she had endured.

Where once the weight of her armor had felt like a comforting embrace, now it was suffocating. Each piece seemed to dig into her flesh, branding her with the shame of her failure. The intricate carvings of her goddess that adorned the breastplate felt like accusatory eyes boring into her soul, silently judging her weakness.

Leshara's body ached in ways she had never thought possible - every muscle throbbing and sore, each breath a reminder of the brutal violation she had just endured. Shame coursed through her veins like molten lava, leaving in its wake only ashes of what once was her pride and honor. The realization that she might carry his child was a weight too heavy to bear, a constant reminder of the depths to which she had fallen. The idea of carrying his spawn within her womb made bile rise in her throat once more but there was nothing left to expel save for tears that streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the blood and sweat upon her face.

Leshara's gaze swept across the room, taking in the nightmarish scene before her. Her honor guards, once proud and fierce warriors, lay scattered about like broken dolls. Each showed signs of having endured multiple violations since being used against her.

Esmeralda lay crumpled in a corner, her golden hair matted with blood and other fluids. Fresh bruises bloomed across her pale skin, overlapping with older marks. Her eyes stared vacantly at nothing, all light extinguished from their emerald depths. Nearby, Aria's lithe form was bent over a makeshift bench, a leering soldier still rutting into her from behind. Her usually musical voice was reduced to hoarse whimpers, her throat raw from screaming. Welts crisscrossed her back, angry red lines telling a story of brutal lashings. Seren hung suspended from the ceiling by her wrists, her toes barely brushing the ground. Her dark skin glistened with sweat and worse, and blood trickled down her thighs. She twitched occasionally, muscles spasming from the strain of her position.

Each of the women had been loyal, brave soldiers, and friends. And she hadn’t been able to save even one of them. Naked and sobbing, Leshara knelt before Damien, her eyes swollen and red, filled with hopelessness and utter defeat.

Her eyes were drawn inexorably to his manhood, still glistening with the evidence of her defilement. A mixture of her virgin blood and his seed dripped slowly from the tip, each droplet a stark reminder of her violation. Leshara tried desperately not to think about how it had been inside her mere moments ago, but the memory of that invasive fullness lingered, making her feel sick and hollow.

The prince's - no, the king's - composure was infuriatingly calm as he gazed down at her broken form. There was no hint of exertion or strain on his face, just a cool satisfaction that sent chills down Leshara's spine. His breathing was even, his posture relaxed, as though he hadn't just committed an act of unspeakable brutality. This casual demeanor in the face of such cruelty only amplified the horror of the situation.

"Well, my queen," Damien purred, his voice silky smooth. "How does it feel to finally know a man's touch?" He reached down, cupping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, a mockery of tenderness that made Leshara's skin crawl. "I must say, you were even better than I imagined. So deliciously tight."

Leshara trembled under his touch, revulsion warring with a bone-deep weariness. She wanted to look away, to close her eyes and pretend this was all a nightmare. But Damien's grip was firm, his dark eyes holding her captive as surely as any chains.

"You know," he continued conversationally, as though discussing the weather, "I've always found women like you... fascinating." His thumb traced her lower lip, smearing it with a mixture of blood and other fluids. "So proud, so certain of your superiority. And yet, in the end, you all break just the same." Damien's eyes glinted with malicious intent as he released Leshara's chin. "Now, my queen," he said, his voice low and commanding, "I want you to taste the fruits of your surrender." He gestured crudely to his still-erect manhood. "Suck my cock, your Highness. Show me how grateful you are for my... attentions."

Leshara's stomach lurched violently at his words. Her eyes widened in horror, flickering between Damien's face and his member. It was still so large, so violent-looking, that it was hard to imagine it had been inside of her. The scent of him was overwhelming - sweat and musk and the coppery tang of her blood. The thought of taking that... thing... into her mouth was more repulsive than anything she had ever imagined.

But what choice did she have?

With trembling hands, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his shaft. The heat of it seemed to sear her skin, and she had to fight the urge to recoil. Steeling herself, Leshara wrapped her fingers around his girth. The feeling of it pulsing in her grasp made her want to scream, but she bit back the sound. Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned forward. The musky scent of him filled her nostrils, making her gag.

She looked up at Damien, her eyes brimming with anguish and humiliation, and his cruel smile bore down on her as she parted her lips. When she had first heard maids speak that some women took men into their mouth, she had been disgusted… had had nightmares about it. She had never, ever, wanted to do anything so degrading in her life. The taste was indescribable - bitter and salty and utterly wrong, and the feel of his shaft against her mouth was alien and revolting. Leshara gagged, her body and soul both instinctively trying to reject the intrusion.

Damien's hand, however, tangled in her hair, holding her in place. "That's it," he crooned. "Good girl. Taste yourself on me. Taste your defeat."

Her cheeks hollowed as she began to suck, tears spilling over and running down her face. Each bob of her head sent fresh waves of revulsion through her. The weight of him on her tongue, the way he filled her mouth - it was all wrong, so fundamentally wrong. Yet she continued, her broken spirit leaving her no other choice. Tears streamed down Leshara's face as she struggled to breathe around Damien's girth. The humiliation was complete, her degradation absolute. As she performed this most intimate act, she felt the last shreds of her dignity crumble away. Leshara's lips trembled as they slid along Damien's length, her tears mingling with the fluids coating his shaft.

"Excellent form, your Majesty," Damien purred, his fingers tangling in her fiery hair. "Who would have guessed you had such a natural talent for this?"

He turned to address his men. "Now then, to reward your valor in battle, I'll be distributing the queen's honor guard among you,” he said, his tone casual and pleasant as if discussing the weather. “They've been... thoroughly broken in, so to speak, and should make for fine entertainment in the coming months."

Leshara's eyes widened in horror, but she dared not stop her degrading task. Damien's grip tightened painfully in her hair as he continued. "I trust you'll treat your new playthings with the proper... respect they deserve as conquered enemies. His hips rocked forward, choking Leshara as he spoke. She struggled to breathe around his intrusion, her world narrowing to the overwhelming sensations assaulting her. The scent of sweat and musk filled her nostrils. Saliva dribbled from the corners of her mouth as she fought to accommodate his girth.

"Oh, and do remember to feed them occasionally," Damien added with a chuckle. "We want them to last, after all. Now then, shall we begin the distribution?"

Leshara wanted to scream, to beg for mercy for her loyal guards. But all she could do was gag and choke as Damien used her mouth for his pleasure, listening helplessly as he calmly condemned her sisters-in-arms to a fate worse than death.

Damien gestured to Lyra, who was dragged forward by two soldiers. The once-fierce warrior stumbled on unsteady legs, her lithe frame battered and bruised. Her short-cropped black hair was matted with sweat and other fluids, and the distinctive scar on her left cheek stood out starkly against her pallid skin. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, the rough rope cutting into her flesh.

Damien's grip tightened in Leshara's hair as he slowly pulled her off his cock. She gasped and coughed as it slipped from her mouth, a string of saliva and precum connecting her lips to the tip for a moment before breaking. Leshara's chest heaved as she gulped in air, her throat raw and aching. The acrid taste of Damien lingered on her tongue, making her stomach churn with nausea.

Tears streamed down Leshara's face as she looked up at Damien through swollen, reddened eyes. His cruel smile bore down on her, eyes glittering with malicious delight at her utter degradation. "Tell me, my queen," Damien purred, "what is this one's name?"

Leshara's gaze darted to Lyra, taking in her battered form. Fresh bruises bloomed across Lyra's pale skin, overlapping older marks. Her eyes, once fierce and determined, now held a vacant, haunted look. The sight of her loyal guard reduced to such a state made Leshara's heart clench painfully.

"Please," Leshara whispered, her voice raw and barely audible. "Don't do this."

Damien's hand shot out, squeezing Leshara's jaw painfully. "Her name," he growled. "Now."

A quiet sob escaped Leshara's lips. "Lyra," she breathed, the name barely audible. "Her name is Lyra."

"Ah, Lyra," Damien said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "One of the queen's finest, I believe. Such spirit, such fire." He pushed his cock back into Leshara’s mouth again, drawing a new gag from the sobbing queen. "Lieutenant Kieran," he called out. "Step forward."

A tall, lean man with close-cropped brown hair and weather-beaten features emerged from the crowd. The scar along his jaw gave him a grim, forbidding appearance. He carried himself with the measured precision of a trained swordsman, his armor meticulously maintained even after the heat of battle. Leshara recognized him… he had been the first man to rape her, by way of the strap-ons.

"For your exemplary service," Damien continued, "and for being the first to demonstrate to our dear queen the futility of her resistance, I award you this prize." He gestured to Lyra with a flourish. "May she provide you with years of... entertainment."

"You see," Damien said, addressing the room but keeping his gaze fixed on Leshara, "Lieutenant Kieran here showed true initiative. When I was planning for how to deal with our stubborn queen's refusal to submit, he made the brilliant suggestion of using her own loyal guards against her." His grip tightened in Leshara's hair, forcing her to take him deeper. "It was his clever thinking that led to the delightful scene of the queen being violated by proxy, her own sworn protectors turned into instruments of her defilement."

Leshara choked and gagged, tears streaming down her face as the memory of that first brutal violation crashed over her. She could still feel the ghost of Esmeralda's fingers inside her, could still hear her friend's broken sobs as she was forced to betray her queen.

"Such ingenuity deserves reward," Damien continued, his voice thick with sadistic pleasure. "And my kingdom has need of such brilliance in its next generations. And so, Lyra here will serve as the mother of his children. A fitting prize for the man who helped break the mighty Queen of Shamla."

Kieran stepped forward, his eyes raking over Lyra's naked form with undisguised lust. "Thank you, my king. I will put her to good use."

Damien smiled, his eyes glittering with cruel amusement. "I'm sure you will. But first, let's make sure everyone knows who she belongs to now."

He snapped his fingers and a soldier stepped forward, holding a wicked-looking tool - a thin metal rod with a sharp point on one end. Leshara's eyes widened in horror as she realized what was about to happen.

Lieutenant Kieran grabbed Lyra's face roughly, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he forced her head back. Lyra's eyes, once so fierce and determined, now wide with terror, darted frantically between the piercing tool and Leshara's face.

"No," Leshara tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by Damien's cock still filling her mouth. She could only watch helplessly as the soldier approached Lyra, the piercing tool glinting menacingly in the torchlight.

The soldier pressed the sharp point against the delicate skin between Lyra's nostrils. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, with a swift, brutal motion, he drove the tool through.

The crunch of cartilage was sickeningly audible in the hushed chamber. Lyra's agonized shriek pierced the air, the sound raw and primal. Blood welled up around the skewer, even as the soldier put a thick, iron ring through the new hole.

As the metal ring was secured in place, a leash was attached to Lyra's new nasal adornment. Kieran's triumphant grin widened as he took hold of the leash, his eyes alight with excitement that would have made him look almost boyish and innocent if it weren’t for the tent his cock was making in his pants. The soldier led Lyra away like a tamed beast, drawing her by the ring and forcing the defeated warrior to stumble after him. and it was impossible to escape the impression that she was cattle being led to slaughter.

Leshara watched helplessly as her former comrade in arms, her sister-in-arms, was dragged away by the iron grip on her wounded nose, and the cock-smothered queen felt new peaks on her mountain of shame with every step Lyra took away from her. She tried to keep their eyes connected for as long as she could, silently promising to find a way to end this nightmare. But it rang hollow even in her own mind. The defeated queen was powerless to stop this atrocity, just as she had been powerless to protect her people and her kingdom from Damien's wrath. From Kieran’s obvious arousal, it was painfully obvious he wasn’t going to wait long before getting started with the process of making those promised children. As her honor guard was dragged away, paraded past the others as she went, Leshara doubted if she would ever see her friend again.

Damien's eyes glittered with malicious glee as he gestured for the next guard to be brought forward. Althea stumbled into view, her tall, muscular frame bowed with exhaustion and pain. Her meticulously maintained armor was gone, leaving her naked and vulnerable. Angry red welts crisscrossed her skin, a testament to the brutal treatment she had endured.

"And who might this fine specimen be, my queen?" Damien asked, his fingers twisting cruelly in Leshara's hair.

Leshara's eyes met Althea's, seeing the mixture of shame and defiance still burning in her friend's gaze. She wanted to look away, to spare herself the agony of witnessing this, but Damien's grip held her fast. "Althea," Leshara whispered, her voice cracking.

"Ah yes, Althea," Damien mused. "A commander of your armies, if I'm not mistaken." He turned to address his men. "Captain Darius, step forward."

A broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard approached. His armor was splattered with blood, and a vicious scar ran from his temple to his jaw.

"For your valor in breaching the city walls and leading the charge into the royal palace, I award you this prize," Damien declared. "May she warm your bed and bear you many strong sons."

Darius's face split into a triumphant grin as he appraised Althea. "Thank you, my king. I'll make good use of her."

As before, a soldier approached with the piercing tool. Althea's eyes widened in terror, but she set her jaw, determined not to cry out. The crunch of metal through flesh seemed to echo in the chamber, followed by a strangled whimper that Althea couldn't quite suppress.

Leshara squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch as her most loyal protector was transformed from warrior to cattle. She focused on the heavy weight of Damien's cock in her mouth, the bitter taste coating her tongue. As revolting as it was, it was still preferable to witnessing Althea's degradation.

But Damien wasn't done. "Open your eyes, my queen," he commanded. "I want you to see every moment of this."

Reluctantly, Leshara obeyed. She watched as Darius clipped a leash to Althea's new nose ring, yanking her head up sharply. Althea's normally stoic features contorted in pain, a single tear trailing down her cheek. As Darius led her away, Althea's gaze locked with Leshara's one last time. The depth of anguish and betrayal in those eyes would haunt Leshara for the rest of her days.

Leshara watched in mute horror as her friends and protectors were claimed one by one. Esmeralda, her passionate defender as skilled with a lute as with her spear, was dragged away by a hulking brute, his meaty hands already pawing at her trembling form. Seren, so gentle despite her skill with a blade, stumbled as a leering soldier yanked her leash, her soft cries barely audible over the jeers of the men. Aria's emerald eyes, once alight with mischief, now shone with unshed tears as she was presented to a scarred veteran. His crooked grin promised untold cruelties. Cassandra, proud and defiant to the last, spat in the face of her new "master." The resounding slap echoed through the desecrated temple, a stark reminder of their new reality.

On and on it went, a grotesque pageant of broken spirits and shattered dreams. Women who had stood as pillars of strength, guardians of a sacred lineage, reduced to mere property to men who would rape and dominate them until the day they died. Their futures stretched before them, bleak and filled with pain, their bodies no longer their own.

"And now, my queen," Damien purred, his fingers tightening painfully in Leshara's hair. "Your beloved sisters."

A strangled cry of anguish tore from Leshara's throat, muffled by the cock still filling her mouth. Fresh tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in rivulets. Her body shook with silent sobs as she gazed upon her sisters' broken forms.

Damien gestured to the side, and Leshara's sisters were brought forward. Lorelei and Selena stumbled into view, their naked bodies bearing the marks of hours of abuse. Angry red welts crisscrossed their pale skin, interspersed with dark bruises and bite marks. Their once-elegant hair hung in matted tangles, streaked with sweat and blood and worse. Their wrists were bound tightly behind their backs, the rough rope cutting into tender flesh.

"Commander Aldric," Damien called out, "step forward."

A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged from the crowd. His armor was splattered with blood, and a vicious scar ran from his left eye to his jaw. His close-cropped silver hair and weathered features spoke of years of battle experience.

"You, more than anyone, deserve this,” Damien declared, gesturing grandly to Lorelei and Selena. “You were responsible for recruiting my army. You were responsible for training them for war. A general is only as competent as those who’s service he is worthy of… and for your exemplary service, I award you these two prizes."

Aldric's eyes raked over the sisters' trembling forms, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Thank you, my king," he said, his voice a low growl. "I'll put them to good use."

As before, soldiers approached with the piercing tools. Lorelei and Selena clung to each other, their eyes wide with terror. The sickening crunch of metal through flesh echoed in the chamber, followed by twin cries of pain. Blood welled up around the new piercings as thick iron rings were secured in place.

To Leshara's horror, they didn't stop there, however. The sisters were forced to the ground, legs spread wide. Leshara's eyes widened in renewed terror as she saw the man with the piercing tools kneel between Lorelei's trembling thighs.

"No..." Leshara tried to scream, but the sound was muffled around Damien's shaft. She could only watch helplessly as the soldier brought the cruel instrument to Lorelei's most intimate area.

The first piercing elicited a shriek of agony from Lorelei, her back arching off the ground as the metal punched through delicate flesh. Blood welled up around the new hole, trickling down pale skin. The soldier worked methodically, adding ring after ring along the length of Lorelei's labia. Each new piercing brought fresh screams, until Lorelei's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper… but Leshara realized that the rings were actually going through both sides of her slit, holding it shut.

Damien's grip tightened painfully in Leshara's hair as he explained, "Since these two are of royal blood, they obviously can't be allowed to breed. We can't have any little princes or princesses running around causing trouble, now can we?" His tone was casual, as if discussing the weather rather than the mutilation of Leshara's beloved sisters. "But their assholes will more than make up for it. Isn't that right, Commander?"

Aldric's predatory grin widened as he nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, my king. I'll make good use of those tight little holes."

Leshara's stomach churned violently as she was forced to watch this nightmarish scene unfold. Selena sobbed quietly, her eyes squeezed shut as she awaited her turn. When the soldier finished with Lorelei, he moved on to the younger sister without hesitation. Selena was too terrified to even fight back as her pussy was sealed shut forever.

The moment the work was done, Aldric stepped forward, clipping leashes to both sisters' nose rings. With a sharp tug, he forced their heads up, eliciting whimpers of pain. His grin widened as he surveyed his new possessions. "Two for the price of one," he chuckled darkly. "I'll enjoy showing what we do to royal bitches back in Kaervass.”

As Aldric led the sisters away, their tearful gazes locked with Leshara's one last time. The depth of anguish and betrayal in their eyes was almost palpable. Leshara wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but all she could do was choke and gag around Damien's intrusion.

Leshara sobbed openly, her body wracked with anguished tremors as she watched the last of her sisters disappear from view. The horror of what she had witnessed crashed over her in relentless waves, threatening to drown her in despair. Her mind reeled, unable to fully process the nightmarish scene that had unfolded before her. Leshara's world had shattered, leaving nothing but jagged shards of what once was. The sacred bonds of sisterhood and loyalty that had been the foundation of her reign now lay in ruins. Each leash attached, each ring inserted, each cry of pain had been another blow to her already fractured spirit.

So consumed was she by her grief and horror that Leshara failed to notice one crucial detail. In her anguish, she had lost track of her people, and there was one face she had not seen dragged away to a cruel fate. One person whose absence should have been glaringly obvious, yet in her overwhelmed state, Leshara had not realized was missing.

Damien's voice, dripping with cruel satisfaction, cut through the haze of Leshara's despair. "And now," he announced, his tone light and conversational as if discussing the weather, "for our final whore to give away."

Leshara's tear-filled eyes widened as realization dawned. No, she thought desperately. Please, not her. Anyone but her.

"Bring forth her lover," Damien commanded, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down Leshara's spine.

Two soldiers dragged Ravenna into view. Her once-graceful form was now a battered, trembling shadow of its former self. Her dark hair, usually woven into intricate warrior's braids, hung in tangled, sweat-dampened ropes around her face. Angry red marks marred her tanned skin, and her once-vibrant amber eyes were now haunted and filled with terror.

Damien's grin widened as he surveyed Ravenna's broken form. "Ah, the queen's favorite," he purred. “What should we do with you?”

Suddenly, the man’s hand formed a fist in Leshara's hair, yanking her head forward painfully as he thrust his hips to meet them. His cock slammed into the back of her throat, cutting off her cry of despair. Leshara gagged violently, her body convulsing as she struggled for air. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the saliva that dribbled from the corners of her mouth.

"This one," Damien announced, his voice dripping with cruel amusement, "will not be going to any one man." He paused, savoring the moment as Leshara's eyes widened in horrified realization. "No, I think it only fair that my loyal soldiers get to enjoy some sport as well. She’ll go to the barracks… let everyone use this one."

Leshara tried to scream, to beg, but Damien's brutal pace left her choking and sputtering. His hips pistoned relentlessly, using her mouth with savage force. The sounds of her gagging and retching echoed obscenely in the chamber. "After all," Damien continued, his tone conversational despite the violence of his actions, "they aren't going to get to fuck the queen. It's only right they get the next best thing - the woman who got to fuck the queen."

Leshara's heart shattered anew at his words. She wanted to close her eyes, to block out the sight of Ravenna's terrified face, but Damien's grip forced her to watch. To bear witness to this final, crushing blow.

"I wonder," Damien mused, a cruel smile playing across his lips, "how long she'll last among my thousands of men before they fuck her to death?" His hips slammed forward again, burying himself to the hilt in Leshara's throat. "Shall we place bets, my queen? A week? A month? Or will she surprise us all and endure for longer?"

Ravenna was dragged away, her desperate cries fading as she disappeared from view. Leshara knew, with a sickening certainty, that she would never see her beloved again. The realization crashed over her like a physical blow, leaving her reeling and broken.

Leshara's world narrowed to the brutal assault on her mouth and throat. Damien's grip in her hair tightened painfully as he thrust deeper, his cock sliding past her gag reflex. She choked and sputtered, tears streaming down her face. The heavy musk of his arousal filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn.

With a final savage thrust, Damien buried himself to the hilt. Leshara's nose was pressed against his groin, coarse hair tickling her skin. Her throat convulsed around his length as she fought for air. Damien held her there, impaled on his manhood, as his release hit.

Hot, bitter seed flooded Leshara's mouth and throat. She could feel each pulse as rope after rope of his essence spilled into her. The taste was revolting, coating her tongue and sliding down her throat. It was swallow or drown, and she had no choice as her body’s reflexes took over, sucking down gulp after gulp of her owner’s bitter seed. Damien's face was a mask of cruel triumph. His eyes glittered with malicious glee as he watched Leshara choke down his release.

Leshara's gaze was filled with abject despair. Tears streamed from her reddened eyes as she was forced to swallow. Each gulp felt like another piece of her soul dying. When Damien finally pulled back, allowing her to breathe, Leshara collapsed forward. She retched and gasped, her body shuddering.

"Well, my queen," Damien purred, his voice mockingly tender. "It’s just us, now. So tell me, between the two of us… How does it feel to be truly conquered?" He reached down, cupping her chin with surprising gentleness. The touch, so at odds with the brutality he had shown her, made Leshara's skin crawl. "A little cunt-licker like you was stubborn, and you fought so hard, for so long. But in the end, you're just like any other woman. Broken. Defeated. Mine."

Leshara's lips trembled as she struggled to form words. When she finally spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper, raw from screaming and choked with despair. "Please," she breathed, the word barely audible. "Just... end it. Kill me…"

Damien's smile widened. "Oh, my dear," he crooned, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "We're only just beginning. You have so much more to give, so many more ways to serve your new king." His eyes raked over her battered form, lingering on the swell of her breasts visible through the gaps in her ruined armor. "And I intend to take everything."

A sob caught in Leshara's throat as the full weight of her situation crashed down upon her. There would be no miraculous escape, no freedom from this nightmare. She was trapped, a possession to be used and discarded at Damien's whim. Her kingdom had fallen, her sisters and loyal guards condemned to lives of degradation and torment. And she, once a proud warrior queen, was now nothing more than a broken plaything for a cruel conqueror.

Leshara prayed he would change his mind and kill her soon. It was the only mercy that she was ever going to get for the rest of her life.

The End

---

Enjoy this story? You can buy the whole thing here: