(Commission) The Rat Queen.

A commissioned piece featuring the dark elf sorceress Morathi from Warhammer falling afoul of the manipulations of a young futa Skaven.

Features: mind control and a rat-girl going to town on a thicc Witch.

-o-o-o-

The creature known as Morathi welcomed all into her service so long as they could pull their weight. The cruel dark elf had little time for those who were not useful to her in some way, whether that be through skill in combat, in magic, in spying, or in sex.

Her armies were filled with those from all walks of life, as was her harem. She had humans and fellow dark elves in spades, the odd dwarf and a halfling she was very fond of. She had an orc, a gorgeous muscular girl whose Amazonian physique was matched by an extraordinary stamina that Morathi frequently put to good use. She even had a pair of elves, a wood elf and a ‘high’ elf, which she had delighted in twisting into broken creatures of pleasure.

There wasn’t a creature Morathi could use, whether it be for war or for sex, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have preferences, and whilst she was willing to use whatever wretched creatures she was able to, she didn’t have to like them all.

Like the filthy, flea-ridden vermin that were the Skaven.

Morathi’s gorgeous nose wrinkled as one of her entourage announced the arrival of the Moulder clan envoy to her fortress. She waved a hand to signal one of her servants to let them in and cast a simple charm over her nose in anticipation of the smell.

The vile rats were useful, especially in number, but given that having any more than a dozen of the beasts about was liable to taint her fortress permanently she had only arranged for small group of the heavier brutes to be provided to her. She’d deploy them against some village somewhere and see how effective they were, and if she liked what she saw she would arrange for an alliance or two with the Skaven clans.

Of course that all depended on her being able to hide her disgust for the beasts long enough to form those alliances, so with a low, weary sigh Morathi forced a smile as the doors to her throne room swung open.

-o-o-o-

Irikit was lucky to be alive in general, but today she was feeling exceptionally lucky, another minute and she would have been beheaded. Whichever god was looking out for her must have been in a good mood when those guards had been called away. Not a good enough mood to let her finally get some action, but hey, Irikit was happy enough to call her continued survival a win and leave it at that.

Irikit was smaller than her fellow Skaven, even amongst the females who were usually more slender and short than the brutish males that were sent out to fight. The Skaven species was a war machine, and if a male couldn’t fight, they were killed, with the rare exception of a smart or particularly skilled mutant. For females, so long as they could birth, they were useful. Appearances didn’t matter much to the rat people, and she would have still made an adequate breeder despite her narrow hips and boyish chest, if it wasn’t for the fact she lacked the required biological equipment.

She’d been a runt at birth, ordinarily that would have been a death sentence, but she’d been lucky and given to the experimentalists. Cut apart and put back together more times than she could even remember anymore, she still had the scars and the memory of the pain, and of course, her cock.

It had been a hair-brained scheme, even for a half-mad experimentalist: transform the runts and the weak into fighting males, ready for war, but it had almost worked, at least with her, the other four experiments had all exploded. She now had a fully functional, and quite impressive, cock, which she was both proud and a little resentful of. One the one hand, it was fat and thick and long and incredibly productive, on the other, it had ruined any chance of a normal life, or a normal romance.

She was a freak, and therefore forbidden from breeding in case she spread her mutant genes. She’d been beaten badly the first time she’d snuck into the breeding pits, and none of the males had any interest in something they couldn’t knock up. With no alternative, she’d simply learned to be a better sneak, never deterred for long, but even so her visits to the broodwhores of the Skaven were rare. She was lucky if she managed to get off more than two or three times a year.

She sighed and scratched her head, nails tousling the fine grey fur that covered her scalp. Lucky, hah. It seemed her life was ruled entirely by luck, no matter how hard she worked or how clever her schemes were, everything came down to luck.

She’d been expected to die in the experiments, but she’d been lucky and simply been altered when all her fellow test subjects had died.

She’d been viewed as a freak for her transformation, and nearly put to death, but she’d been lucky and shown her worth to the clan warlord and avoided death yet again.

She’d risked death on a daily basis, servant and then apprentice to one of the Experimentalists, but she’d been lucky and stumbled across a neat little secret to manipulating Skaven genetics that had ensured her continued survival.

All of her career as a geneticist and experimentalist, tinkering with Skaven genetics, mutating her fellows into hideous beasts of war, growing them stronger and faster and more ferocious by far, all her hard work and sacrifice, it had only been through lucky breaks she had kept her head.

Luck.

She both loved and hated it, like she loved and hated itself. It saved her life over and over and over again, and yet betrayed when it came to her own endeavours. When she tried to make herself stronger or transform her body back to how it was before, she failed thanks to nothing but bad luck. When she tried to sneak a turn with a breeding sow, or steal away a girl of her own somewhere secret, she was discovered completely by luck. A paper full of calculations would be blown into a fire, taking her research with it, or the patrols around camp would decide to wander off their route on a whim and discover her about to get her rocks off.

She sighed again and tightened her cloak about her collar, smoothing down her fur before striding forwards towards the towering doors that barred Morathi’s throne room from the long, cold, dark corridor that led to it.

Hopefully her luck would stand up this time, because this assignment had the potential to be more deadly than any task she’d been saddled with before.

As the doors to Morathi’s throne room swung open, the young Skaven became aware her tail was twitching nervously and cut her palm with a nail. The pain helped her concentrate, and she put on a yellow smile, stepping into the cold, dark chamber of the witch.

“Good afternoon, your darkness.” she called confidently, striding through the long throne room. “It’s an honour to be in your presence.”

“Hmf.” Morathi’s voice replied.

All Irikit could really see of her host was a pair of red eyes, glowing slightly in the gloom. She’d heard Morathi was the most beautiful woman in the world, more alluring and desirable than even the gods above. Personally, she doubted it, elves always had egos larger than most trolls and dark elves were even more prone to exaggerating their beauty and power and pretty much everything else.

She raised a brow and halted at the foot of the dais that led up to Morathi’s throne. “I bring most fond and respectful greetings from Clan Moulder, your darkness. I am Irikit, chosen representative of the nine lords.”

“Chosen to succeed, or chosen to fail?” Morathi asked, resting her cheek on her palm. “I took the liberty of researching you, it seems you’re far from the favourite child of Clan Moulder. Tell me, is this another suicide mission?”

“I certainly hope not, your darkness.” Irikit smiled, “That would be awfully inconvenient for all of us.”

Morathi chuckled softly, pleased the rat at least had a sense of humour. “Very well, Irikit. Your clan knows what I want, they’ve named their price, show me that my time has not been wasted… for both our sakes.”

Irikit smiled and clapped her hands, signalling for her retainer to enter after her. A half-dozen Moulder Clan warriors scuttled in, leading a rat-ogre tightly bound in ropes. The hulking beast growled and foamed at the mouth, its misshapen body bloated and malformed and littered with stitches that were only barely holding the mutated muscle together.

“A single one of our warbeasts.” Irikit said, gesturing to the creature as it roared and strained against its restraints. “Powerful to crack stone with a single bite, fast enough to outpace a horse, tough enough to weather a hundred arrows before falling.”

“And dangerous enough to cause as much trouble to me as to my enemies.” Morathi sighed, toying with one of the horns of her helmet impatiently. “How do you intend for me to control it?”

“They are loyal to their packmasters alone.” Irikit admitted, wishing Morathi had just been impressed at the rat-ogre’s destructive capabilities and had left the questions for later. “But Moulder have decided that I am to join your camp and instruct your servants on the re-training of the first division. After you’ve broken in the first twenty or so you should be able to handle them yourself.”

Morathi’s eyes narrowed in the gloom and she sighed heavily. “They’ve decided, have they?” she scratched her nose and shrugged. “Very well, I suppose the potential of these beasts is worth the inconvenience of having you underfoot.”

She stood and waved her hand, the low fires burning about the chamber glowed brightly and illuminated the room.

Irikit let out a quiet ‘oh’ as she finally saw Morathi striding down towards her to inspect her latest weapon.

Maybe all those fools she’d spoken to hadn’t been exaggerating after all, because Morathi was the most gorgeous creature Irikit had seen in her life. Her skin was pale and flawless, not so much as the tiniest wrinkle or blemish showing on her soft porcelain skin. Her eyes glowed like hot coals, smouldering with barely contained power under heavy, darkly shaded lids. Her lips were plump and painted black, and even curled into a sneer were intoxicatingly inviting.

Irikit felt her cock stiffen in an instant and leaned forwards as Morathi came close, only to blink as the witch passed her by, leaving her addled mind confused at the lack of a kiss that had never even been.

She turned and cleared her throat, “A… as you can see, these beasts are highly useful in combat, but Clan Moulder is also open to deploying our main military hordes, for a price.”

“Hm, that won’t be necessary.” Morathi said with a wave of a perfectly manicured hand.

Irikit nodded breathlessly and gawped at the sorceress’s broad, barely covered ass. Gods those hips must have been almost a full metre wide, supporting a backside fatter and bubblier than any person Irikit had ever seen in her life. Her breasts were just as immense, easily the size of Morathi’s head and remarkably perky given how much they must have weighed. It was all Irikit could do to resist grabbing Morathi from behind and squeezing those magnificent udders.

The dark elf’s ridiculous outfit wasn’t helping matters. Almost every inch of flesh was naked to the breeze, glowing in the low, flickering light. Her helmet was probably the most covering article of clothing she had, cupping her cheeks and pointing over her forehead, with curving horns of polished onyx and bone. It was open at the rear, leaving Morathi’s curling mass of ebony locks free to pour down her spine to the small of her back.

Below that was a tight collar linked to the pointed shoulder pads that rested over her shoulders. Until the slip of scarlet fabric that dangled from her belt at the back, and an even slimmer cloth doing its best to cover her nethers at the front, her upper body was almost completely bare. Morathi’s huge udders wobbled and jiggled as she moved, each footstep sending ripples through her flesh from thick thighs to copious assmeat to swollen milkmakers. Her nipples were covered by a small metal half-cup, with a jagged spike that followed the curve of her ribcage downwards, and a simple metal brace that connected the two sides of the pathetic excuse for a bikini together. The metal was so puny that the dark flesh of Morathi’s areola could be seen trying to escape from beneath them.

Morathi’s broad hips were covered by her belt, dark leather studded and plated with the same metal as the rest of her armour. It was the only thing covering any of her legs, thanks to the dainty scarlet silks that draped down from them. The Dark Elf’s thighs were as thick and meaty as her immense bubble-butt, powerful muscle well-padded by flesh. From the knees down, her pale legs were encased in tight greaves, the same as her forearms, and her feet were snug in simple sandals.

Irikit swallowed and clasped her hands together. “If you insist, your darkness.” she smiled brightly. “I am sworn to your service, if you’ll have me.”

Morathi turned, her contempt was even more naked than she was. “I’ll allow you to stay in my fortress and to work on these new weapons, but if you place so much as a fetid little finger out of place I will feed you to these beasts myself. I do not like your kind, and I do not like you, it is only because I have use of you that you are allowed to live at all. Never forget that.”

“Your darkness, you’ve just described my entire life.” Irikit laughed. “I’ll keep in line, don’t you worry.”

Morathi scowled, but marched back towards her throne, sensual hips swaying all the while. Irikit bit her lip, watching as the sorceress’s magnificent ass bounced and jiggled under the pathetic scarlet ribbon that covered it. Did she even wear underwear beneath that little slip of fabric? Perhaps not, reputably she had as many lovers as there were stars in the sky, and as leader of a cult obsessed with pleasure it only made sense. Irikit groaned softly, imagining how easy it was to lift that little ribbon and drive herself into the Sorceress’ perfect cunt.

Morathi’s clear hatred of Skaven only turned Irikit on more, and she grinned, wondering just what it would take to overrule that disgust, or perhaps turn it to her advantage…

-o-o-o-

It had been a few days since Irikit had taken her place in Morathi’s fortress, and her patience was wearing thin. Not with the work of course, she enjoyed her tinkering and experimenting just as much as always, but with her new mistress.

Morathi was just so damn shameless. The way she walked about with her fat ass wiggling about, the way she bounced her tits with every step she took, the way she sneered and scowled whenever Irikit came into view. It was all so intoxicating.

If Morathi had simply been gorgeous and that alone, Irikit might have been content to simply blow a few loads back in her bunk whilst imagining the filthy things she could do to her. But no, Morathi was utterly repulsed by her, she found her truly revolting, and that only made Irikit want her more. Pleasure alone was good, pleasure with a side of humiliation and sadism was delicious.

The small Skaven hummed to herself and tapped a little green vial full of warpstone-altered pheromones. It was a pet project, a little personal experiment that had split off from her attempts to have the rat-ogres obey their new masters and not try to eat them.

And it looked like now was the perfect opportunity to test it.

Morathi’s sneer was audible as she pushed open the doors to Irikit’s laboratory. “Well, rat, what progress have you made today?”

Irikit smiled and lifted the vial from its holder on the workbench. “Much progress, your darkness, all very promising. I expect we’ll have those beasts eating out of your elves’ palms by the end of the week.”

“We’ll see if your promises bear fruit soon enough, rat.” Morathi growled, planting her hands on her hips and scowling at the laboratory equipment. “Fail me and I’ll turn you inside out and send you back to Moulder still squirming.”

“Hah, your threats are far more creative than I’m used to, your darkness.” Irikit chuckled. “My mentor would simply threaten to have me disembowelled. He was a brilliant experimentalist, but a little lacking in imagination.”

Morathi was unimpressed, though Irikit wasn’t as she watched the pale green light illuminate her mistress’ abyssal cleavage. “You’ll find my imagination is quite formidable when it comes to inflicting pain.”

“And pleasure no doubt.” Irikit grinned, raising the vial. “Here, your darkness, may I beg your opinion?”

Morathi’s nose wrinkled, but she quickly snatched the vial and sniffed it. With a gag she flung it back towards Irikit. “By all the dark gods that’s foul!”

“Ah, I shall keep working on it then.” Irikit sighed, watching as Morathi groaned and pulled a face. She raised a brow, noting a pale green flicker behind the elf’s red eyes. “Perhaps a favour though, as payment for my hard work?”

“A favour?” Morathi frowned.

“Use my name, your darkness.” Irikit hummed, “And give us a smile?”

Morathi looked confused for a moment, her lips pushing out into a cute little pout before a wide smile spread over her face. “How is this, Irikit?”

“Delightful, your darkness.” Irikit cooed, patting her cheek. “A smile from your pretty face each time we speak is all the payment I require.”

“Well… that’s good.” Morathi sniffed, suddenly scowling again. “At least your service is cheap.” She turned on her heel and strode away, giving Irikit the usual lovely view of her jiggling assmeat as she went.

The Skaven looked down at her little experiment and grinned. So, a little dose of pheromones overruled Morathi’s contempt for her, did it? Made her nice and pliant and suggestable?

Irikit grinned, mind racing with the possibilities.

-o-o-o-

“What do you think, your darkness?” Irikit asked, grinning up at the sorceress as she surveyed the kneeling rat-ogre before her. “Is it to your liking?”

“It certainly seems promising.” Morathi smiled down at her, before scowling and rising from her throne. “Stand, beast.” She growled, voice booming through the hall and echoing off the stone pillars. Slowly, but obediently, the ogre rose to its feet, snarling quietly down at its feet as it remained bowed.

“He is the first to be properly broken in, your darkness.” Irikit said, taking her place beside the elf. “But rest assure the others will quickly follow.”

As Morathi’s gaze remained fixed on the ogre, she reached for her belt and drew up a simple little invention she’d forged just that morning. It was similar to a Skaven gas-bomb, a strong leather sack filled with pressurised gas, but had the head and handle of an elven perfume bottle. Irikit glanced up at Morathi, before giving the trigger a little squeeze. A faint green mist of mind-altering pheromones drifted out and enveloped Morathi before dissipating. The sorceress hadn’t noticed, but the green flicker across her eyes was all the confirmation Irikit needed to know she had succeeded.

“Satisfactory.” Morathi hummed, nodding her head. “Very satisfactory, well done Irikit.”

“The pleasure was mine, your darkness.” the Skaven purred, clasping the pheromone sprayer back onto her belt.

“Nevertheless, you’ve kept your promises so far, perhaps I won’t have you drawn and quartered once this is over after all.” Morathi smirked before turning and stooping down. Irikit gasped with surprise as the sorceress placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before sashaying away as if nothing had happened.

“This works even better than I expected.” She grinned, giggling mischievously and following after Morathi.

-o-o-o-

“Tell me, your darkness, what do you think of this perfume?” Irikit asked innocently, appearing beside Morathi in the corridor to her bedchambers. The sorceress growled, furious that the filthy Skaven had followed her so close to where she slept and fucked, but before she could swat the vermin like a fly a cloud of green enveloped her head.

She coughed and waved her hand to dispel the mist, looking down at Irikit with surprise. “Irikit, what are you doing here?” she asked, confused. “You’re supposed to remain in your laboratory.”

“I had a question, your darkness. What did you think of the perfume?”

Morathi’s slender brows knit, her eyes flickering with green light as she took a deep breath of pheromones. “It’s… interesting.” She said softly. “The scent is foul but… I can’t help but… find it oddly alluring.”

“You find it attractive?” Irikit goaded.

“Yes… but also repulsive… like something filthy I cannot help but crave.” Morathi whispered.

“A little like me, hm?”

“What?” the sorceress mumbled.

“you find me revolting, just another Skaven rat… but you ache to be my lover don’t you?” Irikit cooed, reaching out and stroking a sharp nail over Morathi’s alabaster cheek.

“Your lover…” Morathi groaned under her breath, a dull red flush coming to her face. She blinked suddenly and scowled down at Irikit. “Was that all you wanted, rat? To waste my time with perfumes?”

“That was all, your darkness.” Irikit sighed. “Have a pleasant night.”

Morathi scoffed and walked onwards. “I will do, without your filthy presence.”

Irikit pursed her lips and watched as Morathi disappeared around the corner. “You’re melting, you cruel old whore… little by little… how long until you’re mine I wonder?”

-o-o-o-

“Agh.” Morathi coughed as a spray of mist shot at her face. “What in the gods’ names are…” she spluttered and waved a hand to dissipate the green fog and coughed again.

Irikit smiled and returned the perfume to her belt, feigning innocence. “Something wrong, your darkness?”

“I… I lost my train of thought.” Morathi blinked, frowning down at her. “Forgive me, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that progress goes well.” Irikit said patiently. “Is all well? You seem distracted?”

Morathi scowled. Usually she would punish such an invasive, impudent question, but oddly she just couldn’t muster any anger, in fact it felt slightly nice for someone to care, all her other lovers were simply tools for pleasure and rarely concerned with her wellbeing.

She sighed heavily and shook her head. “I don’t know, I haven’t been sleeping well.” she admitted. “Strange dreams… and my whores don’t seem to be able to satisfy like the usually do. I wonder if I should cull them and find fresh lovers for my chambers… it would be such a waste of good slaves.”

“Perhaps you need something new, your darkness?” Irikit suggested softly. “A new taste, a new experience to excite you.”

Morathi hummed thoughtfully and looked at her. “How do you mean?”

“You’ve fucked almost every civilised species under the sun, your darkness. No doubt you’ve done things most people couldn’t conceive with your lovers, but there are still people and things you’ve not allowed yourself to feel.” Irikit breathed, “Like Skaven, for instance.”

She reached up and grabbed Morathi by the cheeks, yanking her head down into range of a passionate, tongue-duelling kiss. Irikit moaned as she tasted Morathi, her tongue exploring the elf’s mouth with eager curiosity and her hands squeezing to ensure her so called ‘mistress’ could not escape.

Morathi whined in a manner far more submissive than she had ever made before in all her long years, stooping to meet the kiss even as the rational part of her mind protested. The kiss tasted foul, and Irikit’s tiny, furred paws scratched as they clung to her, yet her tongue rose to meet the filthy Skaven’s and her body rolled forwards to press close.

Irikit giggled with maniacal glee as Morathi lifted her onto the workbench and pressed tight between her slender thighs. The skinny rat woman was almost lost between the two fat globes of Morathi’s chest, and her legs similarly disappeared between the warm meat of the sorceress’ thighs, but Irikit hardly cared. She dropped her hands from Morathi’s cheeks to her chest, gripping the dark elf’s udders tight and squeezing the supple flesh with delight as if she intended to milk the addled woman like a heifer.

Irikit could feel her cock pulsing with excitement as Morathi’s tight, toned belly rubbed against it, but could bring herself to end the kiss, not whilst Morathi’s tongue was so eagerly wresting with her own fetid muscle.

Once again, luck saved her.

As Irikit resisted the urge to force Morathi to the ground and mount her like a Skaven broodwhore, the pheromone mist lost its potency and Morathi regained her senses. Had Irikit been atop her, she might have realised what was being done to her, but instead she simply staggered back and pinched her brow, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

“What… I…” she stammered as her mind returned, before shaking her head and sighing. “No, those species outside of my harem are beyond my desires with good reason. I’ve no interest in defiling my body by mating with trolls or lizardmen.”

Irikit wiped her mouth, furious that once again the chance to mate had been torn away from her at the last second. “Or Skaven.” She reminded the elf, remembering where the conversation had left off with a little concentration.

“Ugh.” Morathi shuddered. “Skaven… even the thought of a filthy ratman’s fingers pawing at me, his vile cock even so much as pointing my way… guh, repulsive!”

Irikit bit back a growl and dropped back onto the floor, forcing herself to smile. “Maybe, your darkness. We can’t all be as fair as you.”

Morathi sniffed. “Yes, well, I would rather die than lie with a Skaven like you Irikit, so don’t you forget it… you are a good worker and an ally, but never so much as dream you could be my lover.”

“Of course not, your darkness.” Irikit hissed through her smile. “Why, a beauty like you wouldn’t so much as kiss a rat like me.”

Morathi looked confused for a moment, her tongue moving within her cheeks as if trying to place the strange, unpleasant taste that was filling her mouth, before she scowled and nodded. “No indeed. Now I have matters to attend to, continue your work.”

She turned and hurried away, leaving Irikit alone. The furious Skaven swore under her breath and tugged down her trousers, gripping her cock and beginning to stroke furiously.

“Oh I’ll have you soon you fat-titted cow.” She snarled, “I’ll have you begging to be bred like a good sow. We’ll see who’s filthy then, once you’ve had a fair painting of my seed across that sneering face!”

With a growl she hopped back onto the table and leant back, continuing to masturbate and plot about all the indignities she would submit Morathi to once the sorceress’ mind was hers to control.

-o-o-o-

“Ooooh.” Morathi groaned, pressing her hand to her forehead and sinking down into her throne. Her mind had been covered by a fog again, a strange scent filling her nostrils and seeping into her brain. She felt faint and tried to remember what she’d been saying before this strange ill feeling had fallen over her. “What… what was I saying?”

“Nothing important.” Irikit smiled, patting her cheek. “Are you feeling alright? You’re awfully pale.”

“Just a moment of dizziness.” Morathi mumbled, rubbing her eye with a thumb. “Poor sleep and poorer sex is making me tired.”

“Hm, perhaps I could help put some colour in those cheeks, your darkness?” Irikit purred, stepping up to her and tipping her chin up to look in her eye.

“Wh… what do you mean?” Morathi asked weakly, swallowing as she stared up at the Skaven. She frowned as Irikit plucked an odd pouch from her belt. “What is that?”

Irikit didn’t answer, instead spraying a thick green plume of pheromones over Morathi’s pale, confused face. As the sorceress coughed and spluttered, Irikit unbuttoned her trousers and slapped Morathi’s cheek with her cock. “Suck, you stupid old sow, it’ll make you feel better.”

Morathi obeyed without thinking, her mind completely clouded and lost to her senses. Her eyes clouded by green and her mouth hanging open as she leaned forwards to grip Irikit’s shaft. The Skaven grunted as Morathi’s lips slipped over her head, her tongue rising to massage the base of her glans.

“Fuck.” She sighed, gripping Morathi by the horns of her helmet and guiding her head up and down her pole. “Hm, you’ve had a lot of practice haven’t you, you ridiculous hag?”

“Mhmmm.” Morathi moaned vaguely, eyes staring blankly forwards at Irikit’s crotch as she bobbed back and forth. Irikit grinned and grabbed Morathi with both hands, yanking her face further down her cock and bucking into her throat.

“Not so arrogant now, are you cunt?” she crooned as the elf gurgled and gagged on her cock, ropes of spit and slime dribbling from her lips onto her heaving udders. “No more threats, no more insults, just shoving your face with cock just like you were born to do.”

“Gwugh.” Morathi managed to say, clutching her throat as her gullet was pounded. Her mind was awash with lust, her only concern was pleasuring her owner. She could feel the heat building between her thighs, feel how hard and erect her nipples were, just aching to feel the bite of Skaven teeth. She felt the warmth of Irikit’s cock beneath her lips, tasted her potent precum defiling her tongue, and all she could do was silently beg for more. It was wrong, she knew that, it was foul, she knew that too, but despite hating what she was doing and feeling utterly repulsed by her own actions, the compulsion to not only obey, but to impress, was overpowering.

Shaking, Morathi’s hands clasped Irikit’s hips and clung on tight, using her grip to face-fuck herself even harder. She heard Irikit moan approvingly and quivered, feeling the Skaven’s hands move from her helmet’s horns to her dark, luxurious hair. A sharp tug sent a jolt of pain through her, but she remained steadfast in her duty to drain her mistress’ balls down her throat.

Months of unwanted abstinence hadn’t done wonders for Irikit’s stamina and within a few minutes she was groaning and clinging to Morathi’s skull as her orgasm rolled through her like a thunderclap. Morathi gurgled wetly as a blast of Skaven spunk hit her in the tonsils, her throat constricting as she gagged and spluttered, sending a fresh barrage of spit down onto her cleavage and a tickle of sperm to leak from her nose as she retched, desperate to gulp down every last drop despite her discomfort.

Irikit let go of Morathi with a rasping sigh, staggering back and falling down onto her ass on the steps that led to the sorceress’ throne. “Shit, that was just what I needed.”

“Huh?” Morathi gulped, chest heaving as she gasped for breath. Sperm and spit glistened on her barely covered breasts, oozing from her lips and dripping off her chin. She blinked with confusion and the green glow behind her sharp red irises faded away. “Ugh… perhaps I should retire, I feel so tired.”

“That might be for the best, your darkness.” Irikit sighed, lying back and blowing out a low, satisfied breath on the steps beneath her. “You’ve earned a rest.”

“I have?” Morathi frowned, before shaking her head. “Of course I have, well then, I am going to bed.” She stood and took a few steps down from her throne before pausing and looking down at the Skaven girl reclining in her path.

“Are you going to sleep there?” she scowled.

“You’d rather I joined you?” Irikit smiled, opening one eye and admiring the messy sorceress standing over her. The stupid fat-titted whore’s udders were so big she could barely see the elf’s face past them. She supressed the urge to giggle, thinking of Morathi swanning off through the fortress to her bedroom, completely unaware of the congealing sperm slathering her perfect porcelain skin.

Morathi’s cheeks darkened, betraying her arousal at the idea even as she sneered. “Of course not, I would never lie with a filthy Skaven. You’re useful to me, but I still find you repulsive.”

Irikit smirked and lay back down, watching Morathi’s butt as she wiggled away, getting an odd look from the guards posted outside the chamber as she marched past dishevelled and reeking of spunk.

“I think we’re ready for the main event.” Irikit hummed, turning the perfume sack over in her hand and cackling with cruelty.

-o-o-o-

“Oh Moraaaaathi.” A voice called as Morathi made her way down the long stone corridor that led to her bedchambers. Anyone using such an insulting, sing-song tone to address her would have been enough to make the Sorceress stop in her tracks with fury, in fact, anyone using her name at all without permission would have done the trick just as well, but the fact that she recognised the voice as belonging to Irikit was what made her blood boil with indignant rage.

She spun on her heel and lashed out, catching the rat by the throat and hauling her into the air. The puny little vermin was so small her filthy tail only just touched the floor as Morathi held her aloft. “If you ever speak to me with such disrespect again I will feed you your own organs in alphabetical order.”

Irikit wriggled in her grasp for a moment, wheezing for breath. Morathi sneered as she felt the Skaven’s paws tugging at her wrist and relaxed her grip enough to let the rat speak. “Apologise now, Irikit, and perhaps I won’t have you neutered.”

“A thousand apologies, your darkness.” Irikit wheezed, smiling even as she hung in Morathi’s grasp. “I forgot for a moment that you’re not a stupid, bimbo fuckdoll with an ego almost as big as her tits!”

Morathi hissed with fury and tightened her grip. As her fingers squeezed, ready to crush the breath out of the vile little rat, one of Irikit’s hands rose from her waist with an odd bag clutched in it. Her eyes widened as the Skaven brought the bag rushing through the air towards her face and she let out a gasp of shock just in time for the gas-bomb to smack her in the nose.

The bomb burst like a sack of flour.

Green smoke enveloped her and she doubled over, wheezing for breath as the pheromone smoke flooded into her lungs, snaking up her nostrils and pouring into her mouth. She fell to her knees and spluttered, clutching her throat as the gas wormed its way inside her. At the moment she was certain she was about to pass out and succumb to the gas, it faded and she gasped fresh air, staring with watery eyes up at Irikit.

“What… what was that?” she croaked, frowning with confusion. “What happened?”

“Don’t you worry your stupid little head.” Irikit purred, “You weren’t born to think, you were born to obey like a good little slut, weren’t you?”

Morathi groaned and pinched her brow, the tiny flicker of sense still lingering in her addled mind screaming into the wind of compliance. “I… but…”

Irikit reeled back and slapped Morathi across the face, probably hurting herself on Morathi’s helmet more than the witch herself, but the point was made nevertheless. Morathi whined and tried to stand, only for Irikit to press her firmly back down onto her knees. “No you don’t, good cows like you crawl on the floor.”

“I… yes Irikit.” Morathi blushed, biting her lip as her own obedience sent a thrill of arousal through her.

“Good whore, now lead me to our bedchambers.”

“O… our?” Morathi asked hopefully. “You want to sleep with me, Irikit?”

“From now on, you’ll call me ‘mistress’, cow.” Irikit smiled, “And I’m not going to sleep with you, I’m going to fuck you as hard as long as I want, and then I’m going to dump you in the garbage heap where you belong.”

A lot of conflicting emotions ran through Morathi’s manipulated mind at once. The little spark that was still her screamed with indignance at the insults, and continued to be drowned out by the rest, which had split into two camps. One side of Morathi’s new submissive personality was heartbroken that her mistress was just going to use her like a toy and then throw her away. The other was naively certain that if she was just a good, obedient whore like her body was urging her to be, then her mistress would see what a useful slave she would be and change her mind.

Another smack, this time to her gigantic backside, broke off the debate in Morathi’s mind and she looked up at her owner. “I said, lead me to my Bedchambers, cow!”

“Yes mistress, sorry mistress.” Morathi simpered immediately, turning and scuttling along the cold, hard floor on her bare hands and knees. The sight of the voluptuous witch crawling along was enough to make the long week of patient experimentation worth it, every insult, every sneer, every threat, none of them mattered now that Morathi was under her control completely and without escape. If Irikit’s calculations were correct, and she had made certain they were, this time the pheromone gas would keep Morathi enthralled for hours, if not a few days, rather than the mere seconds of previous versions.

Irikit grinned and watched as Morathi’s massive tits almost dragged on the floor as she crawled, and her gorgeous asscheeks jiggled and bounced with each awkward movement along the corridor.

This was going to be a very fun evening…

There was a chorus of soft gasps of shock and surprise as Morathi scurried into her bedchambers on all fours, followed by a grinning Skaven with a bulge in her pants. It was the first time any of Morathi’s harem had ever seen their mistress in such a weak position. It was also the first time Irikit had gotten a good look at her prey’s playthings.

They were as diverse as she’d expected from Morathi’s reputation, all shapes and sizes and races, but all the same in that they were all broken to serve Morathi, and all bore her mark on their asses.

There were a few humans, almost as diverse themselves as the rest of the group combined. A youthful redheaded girl with a slender frame similar to Irikit’s, but a much prettier smile. An older man with a neatly shaven beard, who was well-muscled and handsome, but bore the ugly scars of several whippings across his back and chest. There was a dark woman with greying hair, plump in all the right places, her fat ass and soft, round tits big enough to rival Morathi’s own.

Just as many dark elves, just like Morathi, were lounging about the room. A pair of curvy women who had clearly seen combat before, and a young man who was positively petite. The two warrior women had obviously just been enjoying the poor lad, because his cock, impressively big given his stature, was marked by spit and lipstick. A fourth elf watched from the shadows, another woman, this one as tall and skinny as a birch tree. Her eyes glowed with a low maroon light in her dark corner and a slender, knife-thin hand caressed a rather curiously shaped cock.

A dwarf she was only fairly sure was female struggled upright from her cushion, clearly very drunk and as much covered with spilled wine as she was with hair. A halfling poked her head up from under a pile of pillows, looking incredibly hung over. She was pretty and small, but not petite, like all halflings she had proportions that would have fitted well enough on a human, but squashed down to a third of the size. Her tits were larger than her head, and her hips were far too wide for her body, had she been full sized her body would have been even more ridiculously buxom than Morathi.

Amongst the others were two elves, or at least what Irikit assumed had once been elves. One looked like it had once been a wood elf, with slightly pointed canines and braided blonde hair like dull straw. He might have been handsome, but Morathi’s tortures had broken him, now he drooled past a bar gag, feral eyes fixing on all of the others like he was picking out targets. His lithe body was littered with scars far too symmetrical to have come from anything other than intentional cuts. There was a sad, gaunt look to him, no doubt Morathi liked to be reminded of her previous work on him whenever she chose him to satisfy her needs.

The other elf was a former high elf, not scarred and bound like the man, but just as broken. Her mouth, beneath the curtain of silky platinum hair, was broad and hungry, her eyes were wide and manic. She scrabbled across the room like an animal, naked body glistening with sweat. Unlike the others she was collared, a long leash connecting her to the wall, ensuring that her fellow whores could escape from her if she became too vicious.

The last of Morathi’s harem was an orc, tall and green and powerful, but with a kind, shy face. Her brows were knit with concern as she approached Morathi, her strong hands wringing together with worry. “Mistress… are you alright? Why do you crawl on the floor?” Her voice was soft too, love obvious in her tone. The poor sweet thing.

Irikit kicked Morathi sharply in the ass. “You know what to say, cow.” She hissed.

Morathi groaned with arousal and reared back, sitting down on her bubble-butt and blushing furiously as she felt the eyes of her harem on her. “G… get out!” she demanded in as strong a voice as she could manage.

The orc winced, looking even more worried. “Mistress?”

“Get out!” Morathi howled, in a near enough approximation to her usual arrogant commands that her harem obediently scurried away. The orc was the last to leave, having paused to unhook the feral high elf’s leash, she gave Morathi a pained, questioning look, only to hurry away as Irikit gave her a nasty smile.

“Alone at last, cow.” The Skaven sighed victoriously, slamming the door shut and smacking Morathi’s ass on her way past towards the Sorceress’ bed. Morathi’s bedchambers were by far the most comfortable room in the fortress, well carpeted and abundant with pillows and blankets, as well as all of the pleasurable paraphernalia that facilitated Morathi’s sexual adventures. Irikit hummed and admired the collection of dildos, whips, collars and cuffs. Crops, clamps, plugs and all manner of other toys were neatly lined up and labelled, Morathi apparently showed as much precision when it came to sex as she did to warfare.

“Wh… what now, mistress?” Morathi asked, pouting where she’d been left, curious as to how her new owner intended to use her.

“Now, stand up and come over here.” Irikit hummed, not looking at her. She grinned and leapt onto Morathi’s bed, bellyflopping onto the soft mattress and cackling as she rolled about on the covers. What fury Morathi would feel if she saw a filthy Skaven frolicking on her bed, Irikit giggled, she was almost tempted to try and snap the whore out of her stupor just to see.

But no, she hadn’t spent a week building control over Morathi’s mind just to blow it on getting her angry.

Irikit rolled onto her back and sighed, lounging luxuriously and smiling at Morathi. “Dance for me.”  She purred, tail flicking with excitement as she drank in Morathi’s figure. “Dance like the stupid slut you are.” There was a flicker of reluctance across the dark elf’s face before she smiled and obediently began to sway on the spot.

Irikit’s grin widened as she watched Morathi’s hips swing from side to side in slow, sensual motions, her arms rising over her head. The witch let out a little coo and rolled her body elegantly, huge breasts swaying with a life of their own as her hips rocked and circled. The pleasure of obedience was driving the elf mad with need, and before a minute of her dance had passed she’d reached to tear away her pathetic excuse for a top away.

The metal fell to the ground with a soft thud that Irikit barely heard, her mind completely focussed on the huge pale globes that had just been revealed to her in all their glory. Morathi’s udders were perfect teardrops of flesh, firm enough to hold their shape, but so soft every motion Morathi made sent them jiggling and rippling like two plump waterskins. Her nipples were large and dark, unimaginably inviting to Irikit, who clenched her fists against the covers to resist the urge to leap over and chew on them.

Morathi moaned with arousal, her eyes devouring every sign Irikit gave of her approval, from her leering smile to her entranced eyes to the plump, pulsing bulge in her trousers. Her hands slid over her breasts and stomach to her belt, unbuckling it as elegantly as she could manage and sending it tumbling to the ground along with its cloths.

She spun, hips still gyrating, to present her fat ass to Irikit. The hiss of approval she received made her heart sing and she beamed, throwing her helmet aside and raking her fingers through her hair to turn her mass of curls into a raging, passionate mane of hair. With nothing left to cover her but her shoulderpads and greaves, she put all her effort into the dance. She rolled and swayed and spun her body in all the most sensual ways she could imagine, made her bosom dance and shake and bob, made her rear jiggle and rock and clap, until at last Irikit couldn’t resist and threw herself across the bed to reach her.

“C’mere cow!” the Skaven grunted, grabbing Morathi by her left tit and yanking it towards her hard enough to make Morathi almost lose her balance. Irikit’s lips wrapped around her nipple and began to suck, a low croon coming from Morathi’s lips as she reached up to caress Irikit’s head like a baby to her breast.

“Ahn, mistress… play with my breasts more, play with them however you desire!”

Irikit pulled away and grinned, “Let’s get something straight, cow. These aren’t breasts…” she gave Morathi a sharp slap to her chest, making her flesh wobble pleasantly in her grip. “These are fucking udders, got it?”

“Yes Mistress… play with my udders, fuck my silly cow pussy and my fat cow arse.” Morathi nodded obediently, gasping as Irikit switched to her other breast and dragged her tongue over its warm fleshy surface.

“Mrr, you walk around with these fat fucking milkers all day and expect people to respect you? to obey you?” Irikit growled, jiggling her bust back and forth before giving her another harsh smack. “You’re a fucking whore, you dress like it, you act like it behind closed doors, and you thought no one would treat you like it? Was it arrogance or were you really just that stupid?”

“Ohhh.” Morathi moaned as Irikit’s hand slipped lower, playing over her belly before rubbing against her slip. “I’m stuuuupid, Mistress. I’m just a stupid slut cow for you.”

“Hrm.” Irikit chuckled. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” She gave Morathi’s udder another lick and a gentle nip before pulling back and slapping her in the face.

“Hands on your head cow, and stand still.” She demanded, smirking as Morathi obeyed. The little whimper the elf let out as Irikit fingered her brought an even wider grin to the Skaven’s lips. In no time at all her fingers were dripping with Morathi’s arousal and the Sorceress was shaking with the effort of remaining still.

Irikit purred and pulled away, shedding her clothes with a frantic energy before grabbing her lover by the jaw. “I’m gonna fuck your fat arse now, Cow.” She growled, “And I want to hear you say exactly what you are, or I’ll throw you out for the soldiers to enjoy!”

Morathi moaned, her broken mind not thinking that would be such an awful thing, but her manufactured loyalty to Irikit ensured her obedience. As Irikit moved around her, squeezing and slapping at her voluptuous curves with casual cruelty, Morathi smiled and bit her lip in anticipation.

Irikit’s lips pressed against her ass and she giggled, giving her hips a wiggle to encourage the Skaven to get on with it. her efforts earned her a sharp spank that sent her assmeat jiggling, then another and another, until Morathi’s rump was glowing red with palmprints. By the time Irikit’s tongue drove into her pucker, Morathi’s desperation for pleasure had driven her half mad.

The howl that she let out as Irikit began to rim her was loud enough to be heard well beyond the confines of the rooms. “Ohhhhh Mistress!”

“I love your filthy Skaven tongue!”

“Use me!”

“Let me worship your cock, my rat queen!”

“Let me bounce my fat arse on you!”

“Let me shake my udders for you!”

“Cover me with your wonderful Skaven seed!”

“I want your scent on my skin, I want everyone to know you own meee!”

“Fill me with your filthy pups… let me be your litter-bitch! Your broodcow!”

Morathi’s imagination certainly wasn’t lacking when it came to debasing herself, and Irikit cackled with delight in between explorations of the sorceress’ asshole and bouts of vicious spanking that left the elf’s paper-white cheeks blushing like a warm red sunset.

“Your cow is so obedient mistress!” Morathi was crying out when suddenly her knees were kicked out from under her and she toppled onto all fours with a yelp of surprise. The clap of Skaven hands against her ass comforted her, it meant that she was about to be used, and not punished for not being creative enough with her self-humiliating diatribe. “Ohh, mistress, please let me feel your rat cock… I’ll do whatever you ask… pleaaase?”

Irikit laughed and caressed her cheek with a slender paw. “Such an eager little cow.” She cooed teasingly. “Are you really so desperate to taste my cock, hm?”

“Yes mistress.” Morathi nodded eagerly. “So eager… sooo desperate… I think I might die if I’m not covered in your filthy spunk soon!”

Irikit threw back her head and cackled. “Oh, this is just perrrrfect.” She snarled, smacking Morathi back and forth with her erection a few times before ramming it home down her throat. “There you go, cow… take it nice and deep.”

“Mhhhgh.” Morathi groaned, lashes fluttering as she was finally given the foul taste her body had been trained to crave. Her hands rose up to cradle Irikit’s hips as she blew her but were slapped away.

“Ah, no hands cow. I want you to use that smug face to jerk me off, got it?”

“Mhuh huh.” Morathi nodded, mouth still full of cock. She swallowed and began to bob, tongue working Irikit’s veiny pink shaft diligently as she went. Her whole body was forced to rock back and forth thanks to Irikit’s demand she not use her hands, her ass jiggling and clapping as she bounced herself forwards against Irikit’s shaft. She giggled wetly as she felt Irikit’s fur tickle her nose and then gagged, feeling the Skaven’s cock pulse in her gullet.

Discomfort meant nothing, and she simply pulled away with a low gurgle until Irikit’s cock was barely held between her lips, and then thrust her face right back down again. Irikit groaned as Morathi’s lips played up and down her shaft and took a grip of her hair, making sure to pull painfully every now and again to reinforce the cow’s obedience.

The endurance draft Irikit had taken before ambushing Morathi was not having the intended effect on the young Skaven. Her stamina was just as short as it had ever been, but as she howled and sprayed her seed down the witch’s throat, pulling back to splatter her face and udders, she realised just what it had done. Her stamina was the same, but the time between rounds had been reduced to nothing.

With a crooked grin, Irikit smeared her cock over Morathi’s panting face before shoving her roughly backwards. The sorceress squeaked with surprise as she rolled over backwards, landing prone only for Irikit to land on top of her and pin her to the floor. Guessing the Skaven’s intentions immediately, Morathi spread her legs and moaned, eagerly welcoming Irikit into her sopping, hairless cunt.

Irikit’s thrusts were feral and passionate, each driving ram of her slender hips sending Morathi’s curvaceous frame jiggling. She reached up to grasp her breasts as the immense orbs bounced against her face, but her hands were yanked away. “Let them bounce, cow.” Irikit groaned, “Hands behind your head.”

“Yes… mistress.” Morathi mewed, gasping as Irikit grabbed her by the thighs and hauled her legs up over her shoulders. The Skaven’s grip was tight enough to hurt, but Morathi didn’t complain, moaning and gasping in bliss as her mind was melted even more by the pleasure of obedience. “Oohhhh mistresss.” She sobbed, staring adoringly at Irikit past her jiggling chest. “I never thought being a filthy Skaven cumdump could feel so wonderful!”

“Ha! You already looked like a broodmare; I’m just treating you like one.” Irikit snarled, reaching out and digging her fingers into the fleshy mountains of titmeat wobbling on Morathi’s chest. “With udders like these, you’d feed a thousand pups every month. And this fat arse?” she smacked Morathi’s rump sharply with one hand, the other still kneading her breast. “You were made for popping out babies.”

“A… am I gonna have your babies?” Morathi asked breathlessly.

Irikit laughed and paused her thrusts, basking in the hot, wet embrace of Morathi’s cunt. “Much as I’d love to see you all fat and ashamed, I like having my head attached to my body.” She sighed, resting her elbows on Morathi’s tits. “This mind-control won’t last forever. In a few hours you’ll wake up and forget all about our fun, I’m not gonna tip you off to what I did by knocking you up with a litter.”

“Huh?” Morathi frowned, confused, only to moan as Irikit slowly straightened up and pulled her erection free with a wet pop. “M… mistress?” she whined, reaching down to spread her petals. She let out a coo as the frigid air brushed over her sopping pink cunt, making her tremble even more as she stared at her owner’s beloved cock.

“Over the bed, I want to watch this arse bounce as I fuck it.” Irikit growled.

Morathi didn’t need to be asked twice, shakily clambering to her feet and wobbling to the edge of her bed. She bent obediently, resting her weight on her chest and taking hold of a plump feathered pillow and squeezing it for comfort. She whimpered as Irikit’s palm smacked down on her left cheek, then again as a second spanking came to the right.

Morathi’s groan as Irikit pressed inside her pucker was low and guttural, a sound of pleasure and pain and satisfaction all rolled into one. She’d enjoyed anal before of course, but somehow Irikit’s fat pink cock felt so much more filling than any of her harem’s cocks or toys. With a jerk of her hips, she invited Irikit deeper inside, beginning to match the Skaven’s thrusts as she began to fuck her once again.

“Ohhhh my queen! My rat goddesssss… you fill me so wonderfully!” she crooned. “Take my arse, rat queen, break me apart with your filthy Skaven cock!”

Irikit laughed and landed a strike on the jiggling ass beneath her. Her thrusts were hard and sharp, designed to make the copious assmeat of Morathi’s rear jiggle and clap with every motion, but the longer Morathi’s ass squeezed down on her shaft, the harder it was to resist picking up the pace.

Soon the clapping of Morathi’s ass was as loud as a standing ovation, Irikit’s slender hips pounding against her so fast her lower quarters were little more than a blur of grey fur. Morathi’s cries of bliss and pleading for more joined the slapping and clapping to make a depraved chorus, reaching a squealing, screeching crescendo as both Morathi and Irikit came in unison. As the Skaven’s spunk pumped into her, and then showered over her back as Irikit withdrew, Morathi’s addled mind gave up and she flopped into an exhausted heap on the bed, blissfully asleep.

It was a while before Irikit noticed, continuing to pound away at Morathi’s holes for hours before at last tiring herself out and falling down exhausted herself. Finally realising her lover was passed out, the Skaven laughed softly to herself and settled herself on Morathi’s back, content to enjoy the warmth of victory.

Before long, she too was asleep.

-o-o-o-

Luck shone favourably on Irikit one last time when she awoke in the small hours and dismounted the stinking, sperm-smeared mess of a sorceress before she could wake up herself. She dressed quietly and had a good stretch, feeling wonderfully relaxed, before leaning close to Morathi and speaking.

“Farewell, cow.” Irikit breathed into the unconscious elf’s ear. “You won’t remember any of this… but in your dreams you’ll by my whore over and over again, you’ll beg to be my slave, beg me to defile you… and every morning you’ll wake up and forget everything, everything except how good it felt to be a Skaven cumdump.”

Morathi moaned happily in her sleep, Irikit’s words sinking into her mind and taking hold. Irikit gave her a gentle kiss and a hard grope before standing and sauntering away, having no intention of being around when the witch woke.

-o-o-o-

It had been almost a month since she’d last paid Morathi a visit, so long Irikit almost forgot how much she loved that repulsed sneer the sorceress wore, but not long enough that she’d forgotten how much fun wiping it off her face was. She chuckled mischievously, walking the familiar path through Morathi’s hall towards her throne, eager to have her fun.

“Your darkness, what a pleasure it is to be in your presence again.” Irikit beamed, bowing mockingly to the sorceress before approaching.

“You.” The elf sneered. “What are you doing here, rat? Are you really so eager to die?”

“Die? Oh no, I’ve got quite the talent for self-preservation.” Irikit purred, hopping up onto the arm of Morathi’s throne and winding an arm around the indignant witch. “I just can’t stay away from your sweet arse.”

“Excuse me!?” Morathi roared before coughing as a small jet of green plumed from one of Irikit’s rings. The tiny dose of pheromones re-awakened her submissive persona, and brought memories crashing back all at once. As Morathi raised a shaking hand to her horrified face, she could already feel her mind slipping away. She would never let a filthy Skaven touch her, her conscious mind whined, she wouldn’t let a Skaven fuck her, let a Skaven own her, mark her body with its vile sperm, fill her over and over again… but the memories were undeniable.

“I wouldn’t.” she whined, swooning into Irikit as a single tear leaked down one cheek. “I wouldn’t…”

“You did, and you will again.” Irikit chuckled fondly, patting her cheek. “Now let’s go up to my bedchambers and get you nice and messy, hm?”

Morathi smiled slowly and nodded.

“Yes please, my Queen.”