(Commission) The Rat Queen Chapter 3

Irikit's adventures with Morathi are interrupted by the arrival of Countess Isabella Von Carstein, Vampire Matriarch of Sylvania. With a new powerful, not to mention voluptuous, patron demanding that she creates fresh monsters for her, Irikit finds herself starting over. She's transformed one evil bitch from a stuck-up cunt looking down her nose at her into a sloppy fat-assed skaven-loving slut, how hard could a second one be?

CW: Futa, Furry, Mind Control, Blood (Vampires, duh. But no gore.) Cheating, Drugs.

-o-o-o-

Irikit was nervous as she sat atop a gleaming obsidian carriage and watched the gloomy fortress of Morathi pass behind the mountain crags out of view.

It was strange how fond she’d gotten of the place after a few months. When she’d first arrived she’d been admittedly terrified, Morathi’s reputation and the intimidating majesty of her home making her seriously consider turning tail and running. She was glad she hadn’t, and not just because Morathi’s tight ass around her cock was the best feeling she’d ever enjoyed.

But now she was leaving, and yes, it had been her choice technically, but that choice had been made mostly out of her own greed and lust. Now she was having to think about the fact her new patron was expecting her own legion of war-beasts, and that Clan Moulder was not going to be happy to hear she had promised their resources to yet another outsider without approval.

Irikit chewed on a fingernail restlessly and pulled on her whiskers. Moulder would come around, Morathi’s riches and support had already made them masters of their old rivals, any retribution against her for overstepping her remit as their ambassador would jeopardise that newfound power. They would give her what she needed… probably.

It was just typical that her new patron would share the same repulsion towards Skaven as Morathi, as well as her spectacular figure. Irikit hadn’t even been given a horse, not that horses liked her any more than she liked them, instead being told to sit up in the vacant driver’s seat of the carriage, alone and exposed as she began her journey. The carriage bounced slightly and Irikit clutched her perch a little tighter, scowling down at the glossy black roof her new patron was hiding beneath.

Right at that moment, Countess Isabella von Carstein was comfortably lounging within the luxurious, lightless confines of her carriage without a care in the world. Irikit could only imagine what she was doing in there, reclining with a glass of virgin’s blood, reading some ancient evil text, masturbating… The gorgeous vampiress was as mysterious as she was devastating, but whilst fantasising about the voluptuous undead beauty kindled a pleasant warmth in Irikit’s loins, it didn’t do much to keep her warm as the clouds grew thick and the rain began to gently patter down onto her.

The miserable little Skaven tugged her hood and cloak a little tighter to her skinny frame and dreamed about being toasty and content, lounging on Morathi’s ginormous asscheeks with her stomach full and her balls emptied.

She was going to make Isabella pay for this indignity, sooner rather than later.

-o-o-o-

Sooner rather than later.

What a joke.

Irikit sulked to herself as she sat waiting in the lavish gothic masterpiece that was the Castle Drakenhof’s meeting hall. It was the only room of the castle she’d been given access to outside of the dungeons and catacombs below, her hosts refusing to allow her anywhere she might ‘dirty’ by her mere presence.

It had been weeks now, her plans to break in Isabella faltering the instant she was escorted by a dozen armed guards to the gates of the castle itself, and met there by the lord of all vampiredom: Vlad von Carstein.

Irikit didn’t know what Isabella saw in him, the withered old git. He was a shrivelled, walking, noseless corpse, a cadaver trussed up in fancy armour. Whilst Isabella was everything soft and squishy and curvy, Vlad was just skin, bones, and hatred, particularly for her.

Even if Irikit had been able to get Isabella alone for a few moments to dose her, Vlad was never far away from her, lurking and skulking about like a nuisance. Didn’t he have better things to do than follow his beautiful wife around? A vampire war to win? A mortal empire to conquer? Why couldn’t he just piss off and let Irikit take Isabella somewhere nice and comfy and pound her ridiculous undead bubblebutt from dusk until dawn?

Her work had been going well, at least, but Irikit truthfully couldn’t have given less of a shit. She could make warbeasts and ratogres in her sleep, it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t a challenge. She’d only left Morathi’s soft, squishy ass behind for a taste of some new pussy, but she was no closer to getting it now than she had been when she was clinging to the top of that damned carriage.

The doors to the meeting hall swung open and Isabella swept in. As usual she looked stunning and severe, her paper-white skin and platinum blonde hair flawless as moonlight. Her gigantic tits wobbled and swayed in her battle corset, milky breastmeat so supple and soft Irikit ached to just nuzzle her face into them and see how far she could dive. Isabella’s hands were on her cinched waist, thrusting her chest forwards, but accentuating her truly gargantuan backside even more. If anything her hips were even wider than Morathi’s, and her ass was a huge, tight peach of meat that begged to be enjoyed with every step. Her blazing blue eyes looked Irikit over with a sneer of disgust.

“Rodent, your progress with your project?”

Irikit forced a smile and bowed. “Twenty beasts ready for your purposes, my lady.” She peered hopefully past Isabella to the open doors. “Is the count not joining us this evening?”

Isabella’s lip curled derisively. “My beloved has even lower tolerance for you than I do, beast.” She hissed, raising her nose. “My husband is leading our forces into glorious bloodshed, I remain to rule. Make no mistake, you will find I am no less deadly or demanding, and I am far less patient.”

“Of course, my lady.” Irikit cooed with delight, ears perking up as it seemed her luck was finally beginning to turn. She fidgeted excitedly with her rings, aching to gas the smug vampiress and give her something new to suck on. “I would never imply you were any less capable of ruling mighty Sylvania than dear Vlad. In fact, I would wager you’re ten times the stateswoman he could ever hope to be.”

Isabella shuddered with revulsion. “Ugh, was that an attempt at flattery? You’d make even my stomach turn, rodent.”

“I would never dare flatter a married woman.” Irikit grinned, “Let alone one of your noble status.”

“Good, because if I suspected you of all people were lusting after me, I’d have you neutered and flayed on a pike. Not even my bats would touch your fetid corpse, and I would never degrade my magics by raising your filth. You’d be the only rotting corpse in all of Sylvania to never rise again.” Isabelle snarled, baring her fangs and looming over Irikit. The room around her seemed to darken, the candles flickering low as the mistress of the castle towered over a tiny Skaven, face a mask of menacing fury.

Poof.

Isabella choked as Irikit smirked up at her, raised a hand, and spat a plume of thick green smoke directly into her face. The smell was disgusting, but as Isabella coughed and spluttered she couldn’t help but breathe it in deeper and deeper, her logical mind and some strange animal instinct clashing.

The Countess staggered back a few steps, her mighty bosom swelling as she struggled for breath, clutching her throat. “Wh… what was… how dare… by the night what is that awful stench!?”

Irikit grinned, watching as Isabella’s glowing blue eyes took on a slightly tealish hue. “Whatever are you talking about, dear countess?”

She reached out cautiously and touched a finger to Isabella’s heaving chest. The vampire was still reeling from her gassing, and only blinked down at her in confusion. “Wh… what are you… doing?”

“Nothing to fret about, just hold still.”

Irikit pressed her palm against Isabella’s breast and squeezed it tight, watching with delight as her milky-white flesh enveloped her fingers like dough, practically spilling around her as she sank her paw into the Countess’ tit.

It was cool and soft, no warmth or heartbeat meeting Irikit’s fingers as she slid her palm down into the cup of Isabella’s corset and found the vampiress’ nipple. A quiet, confused sigh passed Isabella’s lips, her brow creasing, but it wasn’t until Irikit pulled her heavy breast out into the cold castle air that she stirred.

“R… release me, vermin!” she boomed suddenly, backhanding Irikit across the muzzle and sending the little Skaven sprawling. “How dare you!?”

Irikit scrambled onto all fours, eyes wide with terror as Isabella bared her fangs in outrage. The faint green light mingling with the blue of her eyes was still present, but faint and fading more by the second. “F… forgive me, my lady, I meant no offense. I merely wanted to… to correct your wardrobe malfunction before any of your subjects could see.”

It was a desperate lie, but to Irikit’s relief instead of rage and indignance, Isabella looked down at her in confusion.

“What?”

Irikit scrambled to her feet and bowed lowly. “Your breast, dear countess. Your corset must be ill-fitting, it has exposed you!”

Isabella looked down at herself and hissed, hurriedly scooping her plump, pale tit up and forcing it back into her corset. It took both hands, the gigantic undead udder spilling out of its owner’s fingers, wobbling and jiggling until at last it had been stuffed back inside.

Irikit licked her lips, but kept her composure, feigning contrition will well-practiced skill. “Much better, my lady. I would suggest punishing your tailor, they’re clearly incompetent.”

Isabella sneered. “Oh there will be blood spilled for this, mark my words, but don’t think for a second that my tailor will be the only one who bleeds if you speak a word of this to anyone.” She quickly inspected the rest of her regalia, scowling suspiciously at every thread, button and clasp, before scoffing and turning on her heel.

Irikit rubbed her cheek reproachfully as the vampire swept away.

“I would never.”

-o-o-o-

Why hadn’t the gas worked?

It was a question that was deadly important for obvious reasons, but as Irikit sat hunched in her lab and pawed over her notes, it was mostly from an indignant sense of wounded pride. Breaking Morathi had been the first great success of her life, the only great success of her life. It had turned her from powerless reviled runt into a woman of power, and now that power was failing her.

Behind her a polite cough sounded, or at least as polite the vampire in question could muster after being summoned to her dungeons. She was one of the intermediaries Isabella had arranged to keep herself from having to see Irikit any more than absolutely necessary, and she didn’t seem particularly happy with the arrangement either. She was a beautiful creature, tall and slender and refined, but next to Isabella even the most lovely of women seemed boring.

“You wanted a human?” the vampire drawled, shoving a waifish girl into Irikit’s makeshift lab. “I assume she’s not for feeding?”

Irikit flashed a crooked smirk. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then why request her?” The vampire sighed, “I understood that you were only using fellow Skaven to manufacture your monsters, what use is a bloodbag like this?”

Irikit plucked a heavy bag off her workbench and rolled it over in her palm. “I have a few personal projects too, like these gas bombs, and I need test subjects to clear up a few questions I have.” Without warning, she lobbed the bomb directly at the vampire’s feet, watching curiously as both the undead woman and the shivering mortal girl were blanketed in green smoke.

As she’d grown to expect, the girl stumbled out of the mist moaning and trembling with need, falling to her knees and panting as her hands began to wander her body. However, as the haze began to clear, the vampire remained standing in place, swaying slightly from side to side, looking confused.

“How do you feel?” Irikit frowned, pattering past the masturbating wreck of her human test subject and looking the vampire over.

“I… I don’t… where… what am I…” the vampire mumbled, her eyes faintly lit up green as she stared around the room. Irikit’s nose twitched curiously and she grabbed hold of the addled woman’s chest. “H… hey! How dare you lay your filthy paws on me!”

“Damn.” Irikit scowled, letting the vampire’s tits go and jetting another plume of gas into her face from her rings. “So it’s your undead nature that’s the problem then… it’s enough to confuse and sedate you, but not enough for anything fun.”

“Hwahhhh.” A soft moan came from behind her, and she turned her head to see the girl spreading her slick pink petals with her fingers, drooling down her chin as she exposed her burning hot hole to the cool air. “Rattie… rattie come fuck me… fill me upppp!”

Irikit grunted and looked back up at the vampire who, aside from a faint flush in her mostly bloodless cheeks, didn’t look hot under the collar at all.

With a little trouble, she managed to scoop up the babbling girl and haul her to where the undead woman was still standing and peering vacantly around the room. With a heavy groan of effort, Irikit shoved the girl up against the vampire and did her best to balance the pair of addled whores so they didn’t just collapse. Once girl and monster were standing chest to chest, leaning against one another equally out of their minds, Irikit took a step back and wiped her brow.

She really needed to get herself a servant with some muscle, doing all this heavy lifting herself was ridiculous.

Another gas bomb arced through the air and burst at the pair’s feet, once again drowning them in mind-melting emerald mist. A confused moan echoed out of the haze from the vampire, along with an orgasmic squeak from the girl, teetering on the edge of total insanity thanks to the dangerously high dose flooding her system.

Irikit stepped close and began lathering the mindless waif’s throat with the concentrated liquid mindkiller, thick droplets of green goo rolling down the girl’s neck as she cooed at its cold, thick texture. She placed a palm on the back of the vampire’s head and pushed her face flush with the quivering neck of her victim. It took a while, but with a sharp smack to her ass and the alluring scent of Irikit’s gas and a vulnerable meal focussing her mind, the vampire sank her fangs into the waif and began to drink.

In an instant, her eyes began to glow green and her moans of satisfaction at a good meal transformed into lustful groans and whimpers. Her hips quaked and her hands squeezed the girl desperately, confusion giving way to all-consuming heat.

“Feel good?” Irikit smiled, lifting the vampire’s skirt and palming her jiggling rump. A delighted moan of confirmation rumbled out of a pair of bloodied lips, the vampire pushing her backside against Irikit’s palms as she feasted and transformed her silky panties into a sopping mess.

So, gassing an undead bitch didn’t get the right effect, but spiking their meals? That did the trick.

Irikit chuckled to herself and gave her test subjects an approving smack to their asses and they moaned, grunted, and ground their bodies tight against one another.

-o-o-o-

Countess Isabella von Carstein was a woman of refinement. Whilst lesser vampires hunted like beasts and drained their prey in the mud and filth, she preferred a more civilised meal. Oh, she loved a good hunt as much as anyone, more than anyone in fact, it was just that she preferred to be on horseback, watching her hounds and hawks do the messy work of dragging her prey down. When her prey was in her clutches, she’d feed them to her favourite servants or acolytes, never dirtying her fangs with anything but the purest blood.

The Blood Chalice of Bathori glittered in her pale palm as she lounged in her throne and swirled the rich red contents of her unholy relic around. The heirloom of her family, the von Draks, had been in her possession for centuries, forged by her grandmother, the late countess Bathori. From its gorgeous golden cup sprang a never ending font of fresh, pure, delicious blood, and Isabella never sullied her palate with anything else.

She took a long, luxurious draft, eyes closed contentedly as the thick, cool lifeblood slipped down her throat, only to be rudely interrupted as the doors to the banquet hall opened. Her fury at being disturbed mid-meal only grew worse as she saw Irikit smiling and scurrying towards her.

“You were ordered to remain below.” Isabella snarled, standing and raising her hand. In an instant, a half-dozen vampiric guards coalesced out of the shadows, blades drawn. “I will not have my home befouled by your kind, rodent!”

“Forgive me, countess, but I have a message I must deliver most urgently.” Irikit bowed, passing by the guards with little more than a wary glance and kneeling at Isabella’s feet. “I would not trust such deadly information with any intermediary.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “You do not trust those in my court?”

“None but your ears must hear what I have to say, oh countess.” Irikit nodded solemnly. “Even the most loyal seeming servants might be swayed by jealousy or greed at the information I must speak.”

Isabella pursed her lips and looked her guards up and down. For any creature of darkness, trust was a fragile thing, half of those in her service were thralls, the others mindless hypnotised serfs, but any of them could still have enough independence to make trouble. She so hated having to put down a servant just because they aspired for a greater station than they had in her employ.

She waved a hand and, reluctantly, her guards fluttered away in a shower of bats and blackness.

Irikit stood and crept a few paces closer to Isabella, eyes drinking in her figure and making the vampiress’ skin crawl.

“Just tell me what it is that is so important!” she snapped.

“Of course.” Irikit nodded, before vaulting onto the table and dashing at Isabella before the vampire could even react. In the second her hands had slammed down her treasured goblet and her blade had been drawn, a fog of green filled her lungs and she sat heavily, spluttering and coughing.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the very walls of her castle home warbling and rippling around her as she rested in her throne and panted for breath. Isabella watched as Irikit smiled and carefully backed away from her, quick eyes watching for any sign of aggression as her fingers closed around the chalice.

If anyone had ever dared lay their hands on such a valued heirloom whilst she was in a cognisant state, Isabella would have flayed them where they stood, but as she sat and watched Irikit paw the golden cup, all she could muster was a confused frown.

“Wh… what are you… doing?” she mumbled.

“Nothing to worry about, dear countess.” Irikit cooed, plucking a green vial from her belt and pouring it into the deep red liquid filling the chalice. “You’re just hungry, feeling a little faint, a nice long drink will make you feel so much better.”

She slid the chalice back to Isabella, who shook her head and lifted it up.

“None but I may drink from this.” She growled weakly.

“Of course, dear countess. I wouldn’t dream of tasting from such a legendary artifact.” Irikit sighed, grasping Isabella’s hands and pushing the chalice to her lips. Isabella let out a quiet groan of frustration, feeling weak as a kitten as Irikit tipped her beloved goblet and forced her to drink.

“Ahhhnn.” Isabella moaned, lashes fluttering and chest heaving as delicious blood began pouring into her, its usual iron tang mixed with something heady and salty and intoxicating. She drank, and drank, and drank, until rivers of red were pouring down her chin and dribbling onto her breasts. It tasted so good, better than ever before, and the odd sensation of being fed her meal by Irikit made her loins grow hungry.

“What did you… put in this?” she panted, licking her lips and grasping the arms of her throne tight.

“A supplement, dear countess.” Irikit shrugged innocently. “Something to boost your power, to make you even stronger. Drink up and your wounds won’t just heal, but you’ll be invulnerable to any blade forged by man.”

Isabella’s eyes glittered. “Curious… but you shouldn’t have… touched this chalice without my permission.”

“Forgive me.” Irikit purred, “It won’t happen again.”

-o-o-o-

“Bah, get away from me you repugnant worm!” Isabella roared, smacking her cupbearer across the face. “I have no more patience for your incompetence!”

She snatched up the Blood Chalice and took a drink, spitting it out disgustedly a moment later. Her blood tasted wrong, nowhere near as refreshing or delicious as she was accustomed to. How and why her most treasured heirloom had lost its ability to provide her with the gorgeous, pristine gallons of lifeblood she subsisted on was beyond her, but she promised all the dark powers in the universe she would find out who or what was responsible, and end them.

“Did you drink from this?” she demanded, ramming her sword through the younger vampire’s stomach and pinning her to the wall.

“N… never my lady.” The woman wailed, unharmed by her impalement, but still wracked with pain. “I would never betray your trust like that, I swear!”

Isabella bared her fangs. “You are the only one who I have ever allowed to touch this unholy relic. You alone have held it, polished it, taken it out of my sight. Who else could be responsible for this outrage!?”

“Dear Countess!”

Isabella’s furious expression faltered as she looked over her shoulder and frowned, seeing Irikit sauntering into the banquet hall again. “I do hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Do you know anything about this!?” Isabella growled, shaking the chalice in Irikit’s direction, spilling a wave of red onto the smooth stone tiles below.

“Oh, I would never lay my hands on something so important to you, dear countess.” Irikit chuckled. “But I do have your supplements for today, if you like I could mix them into your meal for you?”

Isabella bit her lip and released the blade still skewering her cupbearer. “Could these supplements be tainting my chalice?” she asked nervously.

“Of course not, my dear countess.” Irikit said reassuringly, raising a large potion bottle of green liquid and emptying it into the golden cup. “I haven’t the power to make anything that could affect such a legendary Sylvanian artefact. I’m just a lowly Skaven, after all.”

“Yes.” Isabella hummed, wrinkling her nose at the reminder. It was strange, lately she’d been forgetting how disgusted she was by Irikit, feeling almost… fond, of the little rat at times before her senses returned and her revulsion reasserted itself. “Of course, no filthy rodent could sully this heirloom’s power. There must be another to blame.”

She took a sip, then a long, deep, desperate drink. Both hands clutched the chalice to her lips as she swallowed greedily, neck swelling and breasts heaving with excitement in her corset as she feasted. Soft sighs and moans of delight bubbled from her smacking lips, until finally she brought the golden rim of the cup away from her mouth and released a satisfied groan.

“Drak’s fangs… that’s better.” She breathed, sinking down into her chair with a lazy smile. “Your s… supplements almost make up for the lack of flavour.”

“I’m glad.” Irikit cooed, climbing up into Isabella’s lap and nuzzling against her colossal tit.

The vampire barely blinked, simply closing her eyes and sighing contentedly as Irikit’s lips kissed and nibbled over her alabaster breast, her slender fingers squeezing and stroking her delicately.

A week ago the countess might have flown into a rage, but after consuming so much of Irikit’s special potions a dozen times a day, her mind was at last beginning to fracture. She craved her delicious supplements, her blood just didn’t taste anywhere near as delicious without them, and whenever Irikit provided them to her she felt just a little more enamoured with the little monster.

After every delicious meal she found herself full and lazy, wanting nothing more than to relax and feel good. Irikit would chuckle and caress her, fingers exploring her bust, her hips, her gigantic ass. It felt nice, and so Isabella wouldn’t complain, and by the time the high of Irikit’s drugs had faded so would her memories of being molested. All that would be left was a quiet urge in the back of her wicked mind, encouraging her to drink more of what Irikit provided, and make her Skaven mistress comfortable so the flow of delicious ‘supplements’ wouldn’t stop.

If she realised on any level that the lovely salty taste of Irikit’s potions was similar to the musky scent that emanated from the Skaven’s crotch, she didn’t draw any conscious connection.

“C… countess!” her cupbearer squeaked in horror as Irikit tugged down Isabella’s corset and began chewing on a thick, dark nipple. “Lady von Carstein, come to your senses!”

“Mrr, do be quiet you… worthless trash.” Isabella moaned, not even opening her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten your failures just because th… this rat has made up for it.”

She felt Irikit bite down on her nipple and gasped happily. Vlad was such a dispassionate lover, literally cold, but also distant. Oh, he was romantic enough, and in his way he loved her more deeply than anyone else, but when it came to sex none of that carried over. Roses and gold and jewels made for nice presents, but Isabella needed a lover to ravish her body with passion in a way Vlad simply wasn’t interested in.

In her hazy, drug-addled mind, all she was doing was enjoying a quiet moment after her supper, and the delicious sensations blossoming over her chest were simply a visceral fantasy conjured by her lustful mind. She missed her husband, she craved sex, it was only natural she indulge in some carnal fantasies. In reality, of course, Irikit was having a lovely time with her gigantic undead udders.

Smothering her face between a vampire’s tits was a very different sensation to what she’d gotten used to with Morathi. For one, Isabella’s mighty bosom was cool to the touch, unlike the warm, welcoming milkers Morathi had loved to shove against her slender furry frame. For another, whilst Isabella and Morathi’s busts were around the same size, Isabella’s were a lot firmer. Somehow, despite their incredible size and softness, they were actually quite perky, unlike Morathi’s breasts which sloped generously off her chest, too heavy to stand so proudly off her torso.

It was probably thanks to Isabella’s undead athleticism. As a vampire, and despite her frankly ridiculous proportions, she was actually quite toned and deceptively strong. Her stomach, whilst cinched and flat, hid powerful muscle, as did her slender arms, and, under a thick layer of shapely fat, her thighs.

Irikit wondered just what Isabella’s glorious body could do, she looked forward to finding out.

-o-o-o-

“Rodent!” Isabella cried out impatiently, her voice booming off the walls of Castle Drakenhof. It had been a long morning, and she was thirsty, but the little Skaven was nowhere to be seen.

She growled and planted her hands on her hips, scowling at the doors to the banquet hall. Ever since she’d beheaded her former cupbearer she’d decided to just task Irikit with the job, that way the little rat didn’t have to bring her supplements in separately and she could just enjoy her blood. Part of her still held reservations about trusting Irikit with her most treasured possession, she was still a filthy Skaven after all, but her doubts went away the second her delicious meals met her lips.

So far Irikit hadn’t let her down, but today she was being left waiting, and Isabella hated wasting time.

“IRIKIT!” She roared, only for the doors to swing open and the Skaven in question slouched in, looking uncharacteristically impatient. Ordinarily the little rat put on a pleasing show of deference, no-doubt motivated purely by self-preservation, but Isabella always appreciated fear-driven respect. “You’re late, what is the meaning of this?”

“I was busy, dear countess.” Irikit said through her teeth. “I do still have an actual job to do, beyond feeding you.”

Isabella’s nostrils flared with indignance. “Excuse me?”

“Your husband ordered three dozen warbeasts delivered to the front, I don’t intend to fail to make that delivery.” Irikit grunted. “Now, here’s your chalice, freshly topped up.”

She thrust the goblet towards Isabella who scowled but took a drink. Immediately her anger and frustration vanished and she sat her fat backside down right where she stood and gorged herself on her sperm-drugged blood.

“Plah.” She moaned, finally pulling her lips away from the goblet, tongue dangling from her lips, her eyes glittering green. In her corset her titanic tits were heaving with excitement and between her thighs a warm, hungry wetness boiled. “Drak’s fangs… I want… more!”

Irikit smirked down at her as Isabella sat at her feet, a battle raging between her own frustration, her lust, and her self-preservation. “I’m sorry, dear countess, but that’s all the supplements I have to give you.”

Isabella stared up at her, horrified. “Wh… what? That’s unacceptable! I… I demand more this instant!”

Irikit shrugged. “I have none to give. Unless you want the unrefined source?”

“The s… source?” Isabella repeated dumbly, a ravenous rumble echoing from her belly as she dipped her hand between her legs and pressed her palm to her crotch. “Yes! Yes give me that!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Feed meee!” Isabella whined, “I’m so hungry… I want… I want it!”

“If you insist.” Irikit smiled sweetly, planting one hand on Isabella’s platinum hair and yanking down her pants with the other. Isabella squeaked in surprise as she was suddenly presented with a thick, pointed pink rat cock, but the second the scent met her nostrils her already feeble mind glazed over with stupid lust. “You see, my dear countess, the key ingredient in your ‘supplements’ is my own seed. I refine it, of course, amplify my natural pheromones, mix it with many other substances to make it more potent, more easily deployed as a weapon, but at the end of the day, it’s still my cum.”

“C… cum?” Isabella mumbled, mouth open in a pant, her greenlit eyes locked onto Irikit’s erection.

“That’s right. So if you really want more, go ahead and take it.”

Isabella didn’t need to be asked twice.

The Mistress of Sylvania, Countess of Castle Drakenhof, the most feared and respected vampire matriarch in the whole world, lunged forwards and sank the first two inches of Irikit’s cock into her ravenous maw.

Irikit was actually shocked by her enthusiasm, letting out a sharp gasp as vampiric lips sealed around her shaft and began to bob and suck and slobber. Ordinarily having a vampire’s mouth anywhere near her would have filled her with nothing but fear, but after a long, hard, overworked week balancing the making of warbeasts, doting on Isabella, and making sure that she didn’t overplay her hand in drugging the vampiress into subservient sluttiness, she’d earned a little fun.

Her hands stroked through Isabella’s hair as the voluptuous undead milf began to greedily inhale her cock, sliding her dark lips up and down, her tongue swirling desperately around Irikit’s pole. She was obsessive, ravenous, and Irikit loved it. Isabella was so much more pleasant when she was slobbering on a cock and not smugly looking down her nose at her.

“You’re a hungry old whore, aren’t you Izzy?” Irikit groaned, taking a firmer grasp of Isabella’s hair and using it as leverage to thrust into her undead face. “You’ve been chugging down my spunk for weeks now, and loving it.”

Isabella moaned and stared up at her, eyes glazed over with pleasure as her addiction was fed. She was barely conscious of Irikit’s words, just liking the sound of her mistress’ voice, unaware of what she was really doing at all. In her hazy, sluggish mind Irikit was simply providing her more delicious supplements, not fucking her face like she were a common street whore and not a lady of status and power.

As Irikit used her face as a fuckhole harder and faster by the second, Isabella could only gurgle and bubble happily, her hands pawing at her cunt through her clothes as the taste of Irikit’s disgusting Skaven spunk bathed her tongue. She was in heat, centuries of unfulfilled desire and lust all boiling to the surface as after so long she was properly pleasured.

“Take it… take my dick you stuck up bitch.” Irikit hissed, biting her lip as Isabella’s mouth slid down to her base and gagged there for a moment. “Gods… I’m almost there!”

Spit and precum oozed down Isabella’s chin as Irikit moaned loudly and yanked her face up and down her cock even faster until her eyes were rattling her in her skull. Then, finally, deliciously, Irikit began cumming down her throat.

The vampire matriarch quivered and came in her pants, going limp in Irikit’s grasp as the thick, virile flavour of sperm pumped into her sloppy facehole. Her eyes blazed green and rolled back in her head as the most satisfying, filling meal of her unlife was fed to her. Her tits wobbled, her ass jiggled, her lips sucked and slurped and smacked, as she wriggled in place and savoured the taste of Skaven spunk.

After what felt like an eternity, Irikit pulled away, shooting one final rope of sperm over Isabella’s pale face from her forehead down to her lolling tongue.

“You… fucking bloodsucking cocksucker slut.” The little Skaven sighed, stroking her own whiskers happily and stretching. “I needed that.”

Isabella swallowed heavily and smiled too, her lipstick smeared and eyeliner ruined and her stomach wonderfully full.

“Go clean yourself up, Izzy… fun as this was I really do have to finish those monsters for your fucking husband.” Irikit said reluctantly after a few moments basking in the afterglow of her well-earned victory.

“O… of course.” Isabella agreed, lips curling into a smile, cum still dribbling off her fangs as she looked up at her beloved rat queen. “It’s… such important work. But… but I’ll need more s… supplements with my supper, w… won’t I?”

“Yes you will, Izzy, you greedy little harlot.” Irikit chuckled, patting her on the head like a common mutt. “But why don’t you enjoy your meal in your bedchambers tonight?”

Isabella licked her lips.

“Th… that wounds wonderful!”

-o-o-o-

“I… Irikit?!” Isabella von Carstein moaned miserably, perched on her gigantic gothic four-poster bed and cradling her rumbling stomach. It had been hours since her last meal down in the banquet hall, and she was ravenous yet again. Her horrid little Skaven servant had promised her supper served in her bedchambers, and yet there Isabella was, alone and starving.

It was almost dawn, ordinarily she’d be reclining with a good book or trying to enjoy a little passionless sex with Vlad, but at that moment all she wanted was more supplements pumped down her throat.

“Irikit!” she howled, almost shaking with need now, but at last the little Skaven sauntered through the doors and into her most private chambers.

Even a week ago having a disgusting rat in her bedroom would have sent Isabella into a blind fury. She would have done such terrible things to the Skaven that it would have made even a Slaughterbrute’s stomach turn. Such horrors and travesties that they would be whispered about in fear for decades in the dark corners of the world. A cautionary tale to frighten children into obedience.

Instead she beamed with relief and leapt to her feet, dashing close to Irikit. “Where were you? I’ve been calling for minutes!”

“My work is important, dear countess.” The Skaven sighed with a smirk, happily accepting the chalice that Isabella thrust into her hands. “Though nowhere near as pleasant as your company.”

“S… stop flirting and feed me!” Isabella hissed impatiently, almost shaking as she watched Irikit pour the thick green soup she was hopelessly addicted to into her blood.

The instant the bottle was empty she snatched her goblet back and brought it to her lips, chugging it down with a needful whimper, finally relaxing as her eyes glowed a lustful green. She drank, and drank, and drank, and all the while Irikit chuckled and began to undress her. The only moment of complaint Isabella managed to rouse was as her Skaven molester pulled her arms out of her sleeves, interrupting her feast.

By the time Isabella at last dragged her tongue around the rim of the chalice and let out a sloppy moan of bliss, she was naked and soaking.

Her body was even more delicious out of her outfit, her gigantic tits and massive ass perfectly pale and round like the fat white moon glowing outside. Irikit couldn’t help but nuzzle close, her cock thrust between Isabella’s thighs, her paws sinking into her copious assmeat, her teeth finding a fat, thick nipple and chewing hungrily.

“Hah… so gooood.” Isabella moaned, dribbling blood and cum down her chin with a smile. “May… I have more, please?”

“Mmmm, you asked so politely, how can I refuse?” Irikit grinned, pulling away from her undead teat, a thick string of spit bridging her tongue to Isabella’s aching nipple. “Kneel.”

Isabella moaned and obeyed, panting up at Irikit with her hands squished between her thighs. “You… cannot tell anyone…” she whispered, “Just because I need your… your seed doesn’t mean you’re not just a f… filthy Skaven.”

Irikit’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back, cock in hand. “And now you’ve ruined it.”

“Wh… what?” Isabella squeaked, crawling after her, only to be stopped in her tracks as Irikit raised a single finger.

“Why would I help you if you’re rude?” Irikit asked with a casual shrug. “If I’m just a filthy Skaven you mustn’t want my cum.”

“Th… that’s not what I meant.” Isabella whined, “You have to understand! My reputation… my marriage, I’d be ruined if anyone knew how you helped me! Even if Vlad let me live I’d… I’d be homeless, powerless, I’d have nothing.”

“If you were nice, you’d have a place at my feet.” Irikit cooed. “I could use a good servant, especially one who sucks cock so well.”

Isabella whined, it was humiliating how exciting that thought was. Even in squalor and poverty, she would kneel and suck and serve and be happy. What was happening to her? all her life she’d craved power, status, the finest things in life or unlife, and yet she was willing to let it all go just for another drop of thick, delicious, Skaven sperm.

“I’m sorry… I only meant th… that we must be discrete.” She whispered, “Forgive me.”

Irikit smirked.

“Lie on the bed.”

Isabella did as she was told, clambering onto the luxurious expanse of pillows and soft sheets, trembling with lust and her insatiable craving for yet more seed. Her chest heaved as Irikit stripped down, tossing her filthy rags and leathers carelessly onto the floor to join Isabella’s discarded regalia, before coming close.

“Roll onto your back.”

Irikit’s voice was cruel and teasing, but Isabella couldn’t disobey. She rolled and bit her lip, feeling how her breasts wobbled on her chest and her ass squished beneath her. Above her, Irikit chuckled and brought her cock smacking down onto her face, letting it’s hot, musky weight rest over Isabella’s features.

“Suck.”

Isabella von Carstein whimpered, and opened her mouth wide, gagging as Irikit grasped her by the cheeks and thrust into her soft, wet lips. At first her pace was leisurely, the Skaven simply enjoying the cool moist embrace of Isabella’s greedy maw, but soon gentle thrusting wasn’t enough for her, and the real fun began.

“Gghhl” Isabella burbled, eyes widening as Irikit began to jerk her hips faster and faster, the entire length of her cock ramming inside her throat like it was just a prostitute’s well-used cunt, and not the most desirable neck in all vampiredom.

She clutched her bedsheets and drank in breath after breath of Skaven musk, her womanhood throbbing and sopping with arousal as she did the only thing she could think to do: lie back and enjoy.

Irikit wanted to fuck her face like a cheap whore, so that’s what she would do. After all, if Isabella complained again she might leave, and the vampiric matriarch couldn’t bear to think about going without her delicious semen for even another hour.

“Gwuck gwuck gwuck gwuck!”

The sounds bubbling out of Isabella’s increasingly sloppy mouth were only getting lewder, but she didn’t care, not as Irikit’s balls slapped her in the nose and the Skaven grabbed her tits. The taste was all she needed. The flavour of perfection, delight, fulfilment.

Isabella didn’t care that Irikit was ruining her makeup, or that she was using her nipples like reigns to ram herself harder into her face. All she could think about was how horny she was, and how good Irikit tasted, and how she wanted to sit and slobber up and down her rat queen’s cock for the rest of eternity until the stars burned out and the planet froze into a perpetual midnight paradise.

Irikit, whilst Isabella was gurgling and making a mess of herself, was biting her lip and playing with her new pet’s udders. They were ridiculous, so big and soft and squishy it was almost hard to believe they were real, and yet as her finger kneaded vampire titmeat like bread dough and toyed around with erect undead nipples, it was impossible to deny they were very real, and utterly amazing.

She moaned happily and held her hips flush against Isabella’s quivering throat for a moment, pulling on the vampire’s nipples until she was squealing and trembling beneath her. She let Isabella’s teats go and watched her bosom bounce back into place like two great milky jellies.

The only problem was that she couldn’t admire Isabella’s bubblebutt from this angle, the gigantic peach of fertile fuckmeat currently mashing down into the mattress as Isabella quivered and gurgled on her back.

She sighed and gave each wobbling tit a sharp smack to keep them rippling and swaying, debating whether or not to flip the bitch over. Her throat felt incredible, and this angle let her fuck it so much easier than before, every inch just sliding down her tight little neck like it was made for it. Was it worth ruining such a brilliant throat-fuck just to stare at that ass?

Yes. Yes it was.

Irikit grabbed Isabella by her teats and hauled them up with all her strength, using her grip as leverage to ram her hips forward harder and faster until it was almost painful. Beneath her, Isabella’s grunts and gurgles became wetter and more frantic as she was brutally bullied, her proud, stately face transformed into a blushing, spit-shined fuckhole.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Irikit groaned happily, using one last hard ram of her hips to bury herself inside Isabella’s gullet and blow her load. The pumping of her sperm down a vampire’s throat was sublime, as was the delighted, broken mew that warbled up from Isabella’s stuffed mouth.

After a few moments spent savouring the moment, Irikit forced herself to withdraw, and smiled down at the wreck she’d made.

Isabella was drooling, eyes rolled back and glazed over with green light. Her mouth hung wide open, spit and sperm oozing up her face as her head dangled. A bead of thick white goo gathered in one nostril, whilst a rivulet next to it glued one eye shut. Simply put, she was a mess.

Irikit chuckled to herself and climbed up onto the bed, giving Isabella’s heaving bosom an affectionate kick to send her tits wobbling, before she knelt down beside the dazed vampire.

“You’ve certainly had your fill today, Izzy, seems only right I get a meal of my own.” She crooned, and with a heavy grunt of effort, rolled Isabella’s voluptuous form back onto her front. “Gods have mercy, this ass is fatter than every other bitches’ in the castle combined.”

A faint indignant whimper echoed from Isabella’s head as Irikit dragged her tongue along a huge, wobbling cheek. “Not… fat…”

“Izzy my dear, your backside is fucking obese! No wonder you ride in a carriage, if you sat this monster on a horse you’d shatter its spine.” Irikit growled, kissing and licking over the vast expanse of porcelain posterior pressing back against her. Each long stroke of her tongue left a trail of her hungry spit behind, and soon Isabella’s ass was as wet as her ravenous pussy. There wasn’t an inch of cheek Irikit’s mouth didn’t explore, from the crease of where ass met thick soft thigh, to the divot of the vampire’s tailbone, over each glorious glutinous swell over and over again, and deep between them where no living soul but her had ever seen, let alone tasted.

Isabella’s ass looked unimaginably wonderful in that moment, her heavy cheeks wobbling with every ragged breath its owner sucked in, her cunt oozing and pulsing needily between their huge, fleshy embrace. Under a thick lair of Skaven spit, it almost seemed to glow and glisten in the low candlelight, a perfect shining peach of meat that had been made for one thing, and one thing only: fucking. Irikit palmed each glute gently, chewing her lip as her fingers disappearing into the welcoming assmeat, before spreading them wide and spitting onto Isabella’s rosy virgin pucker.

A faint squeak of surprise drifted from where Isabella’s head was still dangling, lost to the world and overcome with addicted euphoria, but she made no show of resistance. The little Skaven grinned, licked her lips, gave Isabella’s gigantic ass a good wobble, and submerged.

It was like coming home.

Irikit had almost forgotten how nice it felt to be completely swallowed up by a braindead bitch’s ass. To have her fat, doughy cheeks just squeeze over her head like a big soft fleshy pillow. How many hours had she spent with her face buried in Morathi’s massive monster of a backside? Not enough, and immediately she regretted that.

She grabbed to full handfuls of assmeat, felt her cock throb hungrily, and began to devour Isabella’s asshole like a four-course feast.

“Auugghhhhhh!” Isabella’s hoarse moan of surprise, embarrassment, and orgasmic bliss was easy to hear even with Irikit’s ears muffled by her cheeks. Half the castle must have heard her, but that didn’t stop her from howling and groaning and panting like a bitch as Irikit’s long hot tongue coiled and wriggled inside her. Isabella didn’t care, and Irikit certainly didn’t either, not as long as Isabella’s virgin ass squeezed around her tongue.

Irikit’s fingernails dug into Isabella’s ass as hungrily as her tongue, leaving long pink scratches in her milky flesh, marking her as property, and her butt as a Skaven chewtoy. The vampire could only sob with delight and shake herself back against her rat queen’s invading tongue. At first just a wiggle in her hips, soon Isabella’s mighty cheeks were bouncing and clapping loudly as the countess twerked against Irikit’s face, lost in a lustful trance.

After what felt like an eternity, Irikit had her fill, and pulled free of Isabella’s suffocating dumptruck with a pleased gasp. She squeezed her cock, ready to burst just from rimming that spectacular asshole, and splattered Isabella with almost enough spunk to cover even her colossal backside, before falling back in a sweaty, contented heap.

-o-o-o-

“I... it’s feeding time.” Isabella cooed as she stepped up to her own throne and sank respectfully to her knees.

Perched on her literal seat of power, Irikit smirked and toyed with her whiskers. “Is it really?”

“I… I always eat at this hour.” Isabella whined, “You’ve fed me before, you should know!”

“You’re being awfully rude for someone who wants a favour, Izzy.”

Irikit’s tone was soft but vicious, threatening and mocking all at once, but Isabella was too starved to care. It had been hours since she’d last feasted on Skaven spunk and her hands were already trembling for her next fix. In her mind Irikit existed to feed her, that telltale vampiric arrogance still intact whilst so much of her sanity had atrophied, and all she wanted was what she felt she deserved.

“It’s not a favour!” she protested. “Y… you’re here because I… I wanted you here. This is m… my castle, you should do what I ask.”

“If you ask nicely.” Irikit grinned, “Otherwise I’ll get annoyed, and then I might do something you’d regret like tell your subjects just what a wanton harlot their countess is, or send a letter to your husband telling him just how much you prefer my cock to his, or I might just leave.”

The final threat hit the hardest, and Isabella immediately folded, hanging her head and prostrating herself before the little Skaven stroking herself on her throne.

“N… no! Please Irikit, please don’t go… forgive me… I’ll give you whatever you desire.” Isabella pleaded. “Your own chambers, servants, gold, jewels, whatever you want… just stay and feed me.”

“Alright, Countess, I’ll tell you what I desire.” Irikit cooed, standing up and sliding her cock over Isabella’s panting face. “Your obedience, your respect, and access to your whore body whenever I desire. You will do what I say, because I am your mistress, and because you’re just desperate to be fucked like the slut you are.”

“But…”

“Call me mistress, or you’ll never taste my cock again.”

Isabella’s lip quivered, but the answer was obvious. She bowed her head and nuzzled against Irikit’s cock, hands clutching her furry thighs, her eyes wide and submissive. “Please… mistress… feed me more.”

“Good whore.” Irikit smirked, sinking down into Isabella’s throne and gesturing to her erection with a lazy wave. “Now use your tits and earn your meal.”

“Yes mistress Irikit.” Isabella whimpered, shuffling closer on her knees and trembling as she took hold of both of her heaving breasts and lifted them up to rest on the Skaven’s thighs.

A thrill ran through her as Irikit’s hot pink pole was squeezed between her bosom, its heat throbbing and flowing into her cool pale skin. She had never used her breasts to pleasure anyone before, but for weeks now they had been Irikit’s toys, to be smacked and squeezed and chewed on, and now to jerk her off.

Isabella moaned and chewed her lip, hauling her bust up and down Irikit’s cock faster and faster, watching as it was completely swallowed up by her squishing milkers. Dark gods it turned her on so much to behave like such a slut. Letting Irikit do whatever she liked to her body, treat her like some common whore, fucking and biting and squeezing everything she had to offer… it was intoxicating. If only Vlad had paid her more attention, she might not have needed to rely so desperately on this wonderful little Skaven and her magic cock and delicious salty sperm.

Her husband had still not returned from the front lines in his pathetic war, but Isabella didn’t care anymore, Irikit was all the lover she needed.

“May I use my mouth too, mistress?” she asked meekly, hefting her tits up and down even faster until thick meaty claps of vampire titmeat on Skaven thighs filled the banquet hall.

“Gods you’re a greedy sow.” Irikit laughed, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her face down.

Isabella mewed happily and parted her lips, sucking and slobbering on Irikit’s cock as it thrust up out of her cavernous cleavage. The instant the flavour of Skaven meat met her tongue all her reservations and doubts melted away into a happy mindless green fog. If Irikit wanted to be called mistress, she was her mistress. If Irikit called her a sow she’d roll in the mud. So long as she had a thick salty load pumped down her insatiable gullet she would be happy.

And she was, glowing with delight as Irikit’s sperm exploded into her cheeks and began to slither down her throat. Her lashes fluttered and her chest heaved as she sucked and sucked and sucked until every last trace of her obsession had been devoured. For any other creature a vampire greedily slurping on their cock would have been frightening, to have such a dangerous mouth squeezing on such a delicate appendage, but Irikit was simply happy and horny. Isabella’s face wasn’t something to fear, it was something to fuck.

“Stand up.” She barked, pushing the countess back and clambering up onto her feet on the throne. “Lift your leg!”

Isabella whimpered and obeyed, struggling to heft her leg upwards into a standing split. She let out a sigh of relief as Irikit grasped her thick thigh and hugged her close, allowing her raised leg to rest comfortably over the Skaven’s shoulder, her foot on the back of her throne.

In an instant Irikit was inside her, her pristine noble pussy rammed full of Skaven dick and defiled forever just as she’d been unknowingly craving ever since Irikit’s drugs first drifted into her mind. Isabella’s howl of delight echoed off the walls, her tongue lolling as she clutched the back of Irikit’s head and pressed her tight to a heaving udder. Skaven cock pounding her cunt, Skaven teeth gnawing on her nipple, the flavour of Skaven spunk still conquering her tongue… it was all bliss for the depraved mindless ruin of Countess Isabella von Carstein.

“Hah… f… fuck me mistress!” she begged, mauling her unattended tit hungrily, squeezing and stretching and milking her massive breast as her entire body quaked under Irikit’s thrusts. “Fuck your whore! Your slut! Your undead breeding sow!”

Irikit growled hungrily and clenched her arms around Isabella’s wobbling thigh, her hips crashing into her faster and harder by the second. Soon the clapping of vampiric cheeks echoed off the wall as loudly as Isabella’s depraved grunts and moans of bliss, letting everyone in the castle know without a doubt that the mistress of Sylvania was being bred.

“Moooooore!” Isabella howled, lost in her own pleasure. “Fuck meeeeeee Mistress! C… conquer my p… pathetic pusssyyy!”

One of Irikit’s paws moved from the vampiress’ thigh to her gigantic ass, spanking and slapping the immense doughy shelf of meat quivering and shaking shamelessly. The disrespect was intoxicating, the pain sublime, her ass was made for beating and breeding. Just like everything else of hers, it belonged to her rat queen.

“Cum inside!” she pleaded desperately, “Fill my womb with your delicious seed! Own me inside and out whilst you chew on my whore udders! My t… tits are your property! My ass is… your toy! Fuck my cunt and my face and my… my ass! Drak’s fangs I want you to fuck my asshole! Break me open and dump your seed into my stomach until I’m full! Only your cum satisfies me, it’s all I can drink anymore, I’m just so hungry all the time I want you to cum inside me forever until the hunger goes away!”

Irikit didn’t need encouraging, slithering her tongue around Isabella’s teat before biting down again. The vampire milf’s cunt was milking her cock as greedily as her mouth, it had barely been more than a few minutes and she was already coming close to blowing her load yet again. Only Morathi’s pretty pink pussy had ever devoured her cock so hungrily, what was it about evil bitches that made them so unbelievably curvy and whorish?

With a heavy groan she smacked Isabella’s ass hard enough to send her entire cheek wobbling and jiggling like a stone thrown into a lake, great ripples of fertile fat rolling across her body as she moaned and drooled and came her brains out. The vampire could barely stay upright as she felt Irikit’s cock swell inside her long-neglected cunt, a moment of perfect clarity coming over her, as the horrid little Skaven who had transformed her from cruel undead queen bitch into a moaning twerking cum-addicted harlot blew her load directly into her womb.

Hatred and fury and disgust washed through her for an instant, before all-consuming bliss erased it, and everything else. Her undead womb was packed with Skaven spunk, and all Isabella could feel was regret that her once-fertile babymaker couldn’t give Irikit the litters of pups she deserved. She wanted to be her rat queen’s breeder, to be fat and stupid and useful only for fucking, but nutting inside her vampiric womb was as useless as blowing a load into her asshole.

Speaking of which.

Isabella let out a squeak of surprise as Irikit shoved her backwards, overbalancing and toppling to the floor in a heap. Barely a second later Irikit had mounted her gigantic ass, paws yanking her thighs apart and lifting her up so she was balancing atop her heaving udders.

She felt the sticky head of Irikit’s pole press against her virgin asshole, unexplored by anything other than the Skaven’s tongue, and gurgled with need. “Yes… fuck my ass mistress… pound me stupid!”

Plap!

The sound of Irikit ramming her hips against Isabella’s backside was like a clap of thunder, matched only by the shrill squeal of joy that burst from the vampire’s lips as her hole was gaped. It was sublime, pain and pleasure, humiliation and delight, all mixing together into an intoxicating cocktail of lust that shattered what little remained of Isabella’s sanity. Mind-melting pheromones flooded her brain, addictive sperm oozed from her lips, and Isabella grinned as she clapped her huge bubblebutt back against the Skaven holding her legs aloft.

Irikit felt even bigger inside her ass than she had down her throat or in her cunt, a throbbing, pounding pillar of perfect Skaven cock stretching her last undefiled orifice out into yet another fuckhole.

Isabella came with a shriek of pleasure, her pussy spasming and squirting as Irikit continued ramming into her. It was too much, too good! She could feel her undead strength melting away, her craving for blood being totally replaced by an all new greedy hunger. She wanted to be fucked forever, to never again spend a second without Irikit’s cock in her ass.

“Let me bite youuuuu!” she sobbed, “Mistress… let me turn you! I’ll make you immortal! Powerful! You can rule this whole nation and fuck me every second of every day for the rest of time! I’ll be your whore, your concubine! Your eternal cumdump forever and ever and ever and… Whuf!”

Isabella grunted as Irikit’s strength gave out and she dropped her to the floor, still embedded inside her hole. The Skaven didn’t slow for a second, clinging to Isabella’s ass and pounding her ass harder and harder as the vampire matriarch went limp and lay on her face, happily taking her mistress’ abuse.

“Shut… the fuck… up!”

Nails scratched her cheeks, spanked her, squeezed her. Irikit licked up and down her spine, groped her squishing breasts, spat on her and massaged the moisture into her milky skin. Her ass bounced and shook and jiggled with every thrust, wobbling as it was stuffed full over and over again until Isabella was sure it would never fully close again.

Irikit came, and came again, and again. Soon Isabella’s orgasmic high had been amplified to madness by the vast quantities of addictive Skaven spunk in her guts. She howled and gurgled and drooled down her chin, her pleading for more melting into brainless babbling as she was assfucked into insanity.

And finally, when at last Irikit’s stamina ran out and the little Skaven flopped onto Isabella’s back, cock still embedded inside her, Isabella could only think of one thing.

“Mistress.” She moaned, tilting her head to one side and staring back at her queen with a loving green glow in her eyes. “I’m still hungry…”

“May I please have more?”