Zephara glared at Zayn Darkmore, feeling the slave collar around her neck. She wanted to curse this man, this fellow Traveler—one of the other players of Age of Anarchy Online. She scowled at the incubus warlock, and she glanced blackly at his three favorite slaves. The Chainbreaker considered them with disdain and resentment, looking at Yukiko the petite samurai blacksmith, at the slender blonde priestess Della, and at the busty black-haired rogue and dancer Severa.
“Fuck you,” Zephara spat, expectorating into the dirt at Zayn’s feet.
“Not today,” he said mildly, considering the body of his captive. She was a buxom creature, voluptuous in her own right, a very sexy sorceress despite her ostensible commitment to the side of ‘Light’. “Though it is a tempting offer.”
Yukiko giggled. Della smiled serenely. Severa blushed and crossed her arms, not looking completely displeased.
Zephara hated all of them. She hated those bimbos, and she hated this bastard. She refused to believe that the valiant paladin Torgan would have reincarnated into such a vile and villainous figure as this. She had heard tales of Zayn’s depravity, and she had seen stream footage of some of the things he had done in the past, using those as research material for her hoped-for final confrontation with this bastard.
But he had completely destroyed her, and she knew it. She had lost the Demon’s Duel, and she had no idea what she could do from there. The conditions were binding, and he had not left her a single possible loophole. Either she would have to quit AAO forever, or she would need to spend the rest of her time in this game as his slave—and the free-use toilet of everyone else nearby.
“I hate you,” Zephara growled. “Dammit. Just get it over with. What do you want to do to me now?”
Zayn smiled. He reached very slowly into his inventory, sifting through it as if carefully deliberating about something.
Zephara’s insides churned. He wasn’t considering that, was he? She’d seen what he had done to other girls in the past, the scenes preserved for posterity in the form of his gameplay streams. She was aware of one of Zayn’s more dubious traits, To Serve Woman, and what it entailed.
But would he really do that to her? True, he had given her the masochist trait, so she wouldn’t feel any pain from it… but arguably, that was even worse. She didn’t want to enjoy that. She wanted to preserve some last shred of her dignity, even if she had been utterly defeated, even if everything she had worked to accomplish had been completely taken away from her.
She grimaced, seeing the point of a long, steel object appear from his inventory. He pulled it out slowly, drawing forth the spit from his sack.
Yukiko’s eyes lit up. Della licked her lips. Severa smirked with a bit of schadenfreude.
Zephara stared in slowly mounting horror as Zayn planted the butt of the spit against the ground, holding it like he was a guardsman with spear in hand.
“Build a fire,” he said to his slaves—his other slaves. “I’ll prepare Zephara while you girls take care of that. Whoever does the most work gets a special reward from me tonight.”
He gave each of them an encouraging pat on the ass. This gave Yukiko, Della, and Severa all the encouragement they needed, and they went straight to work.
Then Zayn rested his gaze solely on Zephara, to her displeasure.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she growled. “You sick bastard. You won’t get away with this.”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s only a game, after all.”
It was just the two of them at the moment, both of them Travelers: player characters in AAO. Zayn was generally very good at staying in-character, and he let his NPC slaves retain the illusion that the world they inhabited was real, that their history was real and their existence was meaningful. Della and Severa didn’t need to know that they were purely artificial constructs, that their only reason to exist was for the entertainment of Travelers like himself and Yukiko—and Zephara, too.
But he apparently saw no need to dance around that subject with Zephara.
“You—” She was inarticulate from anger. She wanted to strike him. She wished she could blast him with her most powerful magic. But the slave collar controlled her and forced her to bend to his will. “—You monster. Just because it’s a game doesn’t mean you get to do such… such horrible things!”
Zayn cocked an eyebrow, heating her insides.
“Bend over,” he told her. “Present yourself.”
Zephara was enraged, but she had no choice other than to obey. She turned and tipped her body forward, letting her tits swing down and lewdly dangle. Her legs spread against her will, splaying open the lips of her pussy. She shuddered, remembering the time she had spent in that virtual brothel after he had enslaved and sold her. She felt his eyes on her ass, and despite knowing that this body was not her real body, that the nakedness he was seeing was not the nakedness of her true self, she couldn’t help but feel humiliated. In a VRMMO like this, even more than in more traditional kinds of videogames, the player avatar was a second skin, and she couldn’t help identifying herself with it. Even if she told herself that he wasn’t really looking at her anus, at her ass cheeks, at her gaping cunt and her pendulously dangling breasts, the embarrassment was as visceral as if they were in the real world.
She clenched her teeth. She could almost sense Zayn behind her. She felt more acutely aware of her surroundings, and she was made perversely aware of all the little touches AAO’s makers had made in the quest for realism. It was some of the finest immersion she had ever seen. The breath of the wind against her naked skin, the subtlest sounds of rustling twig and branch, the smell of wood beginning to burn. She felt the dirt beneath her feet and the rays of the sun beating down on her back. Her skin was warm, and her face grew hot. Her heart was pounding in her chest.
Zayn’s hands clapped down hard on Zephara’s ass. She squealed, feeling the pleasure that should have been pain rocket through her body. Her frame jerked forward, and her eyes snapped wide open. A faintest moan jumped from her lips, despite herself.
She could perfectly picture the smirk on that detestable face.
“Fuck you,” she panted, trying to ignore the moisture of her pussy. “You bastard. I hate you.”
“I don’t hate you,” Zayn replied. “You’re too far beneath me for that.”
He was taunting her, now. Trying to provoke her.
She snarled, feeling his hands begin to rub over her body. She noticed a sensation of wetness left behind them, and a sort of gritty itchiness. Her skin was cool, and it felt like there were small particles clinging to it here and there. It took her a moment to realize that he was glazing her and seasoning her. He was applying herbs and spices to give her flavor, and he was rubbing on—what, honey? Something of that sort. It felt sticky. Probably it was very sweet, as he was applying it only lightly. He was preparing her to roast.
Shit. Was he actually going to go through with that?
“You crazy bastard,” she panted. “This is illegal!”
“Where?” he asked. “We aren’t in the real world. True, it might be frowned on in some places in the game… but Zayn Darkmore is an evil character.”
His hands rolled their way up her back, moving her skin over the muscle. She shuddered, feeling how he groped and kneaded her. She twisted and struggled against his touch, but there was no way for her to break free. Not while she was still under the conditions of her defeat… and those terms were designed to last for as long as AAO ran.
She gnashed her teeth, shuddering and trying not to feel the stimulation from his touch. Damn that penalty to charm resistance… damn that obscene charisma stat of his! It really was just unfair.
“Why…?” she panted. “D-Dammit… Why would the good, honorable Torgan become… become… something like this?”
“Torgan was just a character, and so is Zayn. You’re self-inserting too hard. Like I said before…” He bent over her, running his hands down under her arms. He grabbed at her breasts and breathed into her ear, fondling her corpulent mammaries while whispering in a deep, seductive voice. “It’s all just a game. If it isn’t fun, you can quit any time. But don’t take it so seriously. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”
His words were tempting, and he made a compelling point. Or was that just her failing a saving throw against his abominable seduction?
“E-Even if that’s true…” she growled, forcing herself to resist the assault on her will, even while her body obeyed Zayn’s every whim and jubilantly welcomed his touch. She was shuddering, torn between two powerful opposing forces. “Uggh… You have t-to be fucked up in the head if you seriously enjoy this sort of thing. You’re a sicko.”
She felt his lips against her earlobe. They were curling into a smile.
“Yeah. Maybe I am.”
It took Zephara a moment to realize that he was no longer groping and stroking her. For a moment, she felt relieved. She was free from his loathsome touch!
But then she realized what it meant, and she was gripped by fear.
She felt the point of the spit scratch her thigh as it was lined up. The steel was like ice, and she shivered. Her heart stopped beating for an instant, and she was almost forced to log out by the system, which detected what seemed like a serious aberration in her IRL pulse. But it was only for an instant, and she was kept anchored by the terms of defeat.
She wouldn’t be allowed to escape so easily.
It spread her nether lips. The spit slid slowly into her, scraping the insides of her pussy. She hissed at the feeling of the cold metal, gradually warming inside her sex, hating the sensation despite how it made her body thrill. Inwardly she cursed at Zayn, but she had no power to resist his domination, and she was utterly at his mercy as he thrust the spit further into her, thrusting it deeper and deeper and deeper.
It went all the way into her pussy, reaching to her deepest point. It scraped her cervix, the metal warming with her body heat. Zayn brusquely grabbed her hip, absentmindedly but masterfully fondling one of her ass cheeks, bringing tears to her eyes. He used her booty as leverage, holding her body in place as he plunged the spit into her womb. It pierced her easily, goring her sex and ascending through her body. The sensation was too real, and it was too perverse.
Instead of pain, she could only feel pleasure. Her pussy was aching and throbbing, gushing moisture in response to this macabre stimulation, and she was going mad from that. It was going to drive her completely insane, or that was how it felt. She couldn’t stand it, and she barely knew what to do with herself. She was losing her mind. She was panting and shuddering, but she refused to vocalize that twisted, horrible pleasure. She would not moan. She would not give Zayn the satisfaction of hearing her voice this arousal! That would be a defeat worse than death.
“I hate you,” she hissed through clenched teeth. Her body was shuddering in paroxysms of bliss as the spit punched its way farther and farther through her. Every barrier of flesh that it perforated, every membrane and muscle, was like a stimulation of her clitoris, a blast of pleasure so intense that it almost caused her to black out. But she was holding on through sheer stubborn willpower. She refused to be beaten. “Go to hell, you sick piece of shit.”
“I’m a demon,” Zayn quipped. “So that would probably be part of my racial advancement quest.”
He was enjoying himself. He was amused by her degradation, by her humiliation, and he enjoyed watching her vainly cling to some lingering shreds of pride and dignity. She could almost hear the laughter in his voice.
Grimly, Zephara mused that she almost would have preferred it if he were simply raping her.
She tasted the spit. She almost gagged at the flavor of the blood and gore slicking the steel, and she craned her neck, tilting her head back almost automatically, not wanting the spit to go through her palate and the roof of her skull. That would have been unpleasant.
She could see her MP slowly depleting. As a sorceress, her reserves of magical power were very respectable, even without any of the mana-boosting gear currently equipped. Her HP bar was alternating with a sliver of red, then of green, at the end, a chunk of health taken away by this impalement, then restored. In some attempt to distract herself from her current unpleasant situation, Zephara checked the active effects under her status bar. She saw the icon for a basic bleed (it was obvious where that came from), a mana siphon effect, and a passive regen. Checking the latter two, she noted that both were being caused by the spit.
Apparently, it was enchanted to heal her using her own MP. Considering her reserves, this meant this would stay alive long into this process.
That realization deeply dismayed the redhead.
In her distracted state, her body limp and helpless upon the spit, Zephara almost didn’t notice it as Zayn lifted the spit with her upon it and carried her over to the fire his slaves had built. They had set it up perfectly for cooking, quite familiar with how to do this by now.
Yukiko looked almost envious as she watched Zayn suspend Zephara over the flames. Della was wiggling her hips and looking at the bulge of her master’s erection, seeing how pleased he was to watch Zephara begin to cook. Severa’s mouth watered as the smell of the sorceress’s flesh slowly wafted through the air. All three girls seemed pleased, anyway, as they observed Zephara’s naked form, seeing her suspended with her tits hanging down over the fire. Her nipples were swollen, and her breasts quickly reddened.
Zephara first felt the heat almost as something pleasant. She was a little chilly without her clothes, and the warmth of the fire was initially a relief to that. But it soon progressed beyond that, and she grew uncomfortably warm. Sweat dripped from her skin, falling to hiss and steam lightly amid the flames, and her skin grew red as if with a vibrant blush. Her bosom heaved, tits dangling, and her form weakly wiggled upon the spit. The discomfort of the flames below was intensifying, contrasting with her back, which felt almost cold by comparison, and she whined into the spit, wincing and glowering at the observers.
Zayn had dropped his trousers and taken out his grotesquely massive, twenty-inch cock. Zephara almost gagged just at the sight of the enormous rod, and her insides clenched in what she chose to take as disgust. Yukiko was visibly elated to see Zayn’s dick, and she opened her mouth wide. Della lifted her robes and spread her legs, raising her hips to present her master with his choice of ass or pussy. Severa popped her tits out of her scanty top and manipulated them suggestively, offering him a titfuck.
Zayn was watching Zephara cook, and Zephara knew that he was erect because of that. He really was getting turned on by this! She knew it was supposedly a fetish, but she’d never quite completely believed it until now. She still didn’t understand it. But she watched as Zayn took his slaves up on their offers, one after another, all while keeping a close eye on the roasting meat.
Zephara hated to think of herself as this, but… that was obviously what she was right now. She hated to think that her body was going to be reduced to so many consumables, but that was the reality of her situation, and there was nothing she could do to change it.
Her MP was only a quarter depleted when the discomfort became outright pain—or pleasure, rather. Her tits were beginning to look golden brown, and they were dripping with something more than just perspiration. Grease was seeping out from the pores of her fatty globes, and it fell to sizzle in the fire. Her nipples were stiff and darkened, and her insides were constricting as the skin drew tighter over her body, feeling crispy.
It was indescribable. Tears streamed from Zephara’s eyes as her skin browned, as she was roasted over the open flames. She was weakly panting, shivering, moaning and wriggling. She couldn’t stand it. The pleasure was unbearable, and it took her entire will to restrain the note of ecstasy from her tone. She clung desperately, pathetically to those last vestiges of dignity.
She was a Traveler. She was a player character. She was a real human being. She wouldn’t succumb!
But it was hard. It was unspeakably hard.
So was Zayn’s cock, from the look of it.
Zephara blushed despite herself, seeing the incubus finish all over Severa’s face and tits. He was looking her in the eye as his cock twitched between the rogue and dancer’s melons, copiously disgorging itself. His expression was unreadable. He didn’t look overly intoxicated by his situation. No, he looked completely sober, and while she could tell that he was enjoying this, his expression suggested that he wasn’t doing this merely for his own amusement.
Or was she delirious and interpreting things that weren’t really there? That might have been a possibility.
Zephara was feeling weak, even if her HP was still full, as Zayn turned her over to roast her other side. Her tits flattened slightly atop her sternum, compressing from their own weight. Her front was steaming, and her gaping, browned cunt was issuing billows of boiled arousal. The spit was searing hot inside her, spreading the cooking heat into her insides. Her ass began to drip with sweat, and her buttocks weakly flexed, her asshole clenching as if she expected something to get shoved inside it.
She was feeble, and her muscles could no longer move her body. She checked her status. Immobilized. Paralyzed. Crippled. The numbers continued to tick down and back up in her health bar, while her mana bar slowly shrank. It was down to two thirds. She wouldn’t run out before she was done cooking.
She would probably still be alive when they began to eat her.
This thought horrified Zephara, even if the process of cooking was orgasmically pleasurable. She knew it was really only because of that damn masochism trait Zayn had given her, and she refused to take that enjoyment to heart. It was sick and wrong, totally twisted.
If only it didn’t have to drag out so long…
… … … … …
She was done. Her MP was barely under half, and her body was basically an item now, but she was still paradoxically at full health, despite being fully cooked. Her flesh was roasted, though alive; she was suffering a long list of status effects, and she daren’t read them all out. Roasting alive did horrible things to her body, even if it felt so perversely good, and she knew that she wouldn’t get better except by completely respawning. They would need to kill her before she could heal.
She gritted her teeth. She hated this so much. She could barely move any part of her body, though she could at least breathe and work her jaws.
“Perfect,” came Zayn’s voice.
He stood up, nudging his three favorite slaves out of his lap, and reached for the spit. Della rose and fetched a platter, onto which Zayn deposited Zephara’s roasted carcass, taking her off the spit. Meat hit the plate with an indecently wet sound, plopping down lewdly. Zephara lay on her back, her eyes glassy and almost blind. But she was still aware of what was happening around her.
Severa produced a long carving knife. Yukiko drew a two-pronged fork from her inventory.
“Who wants what piece?” Severa asked. “I’ve got my eyes on her rump.”
“So do I,” said Della suggestively.
“I’ll have her pussy, if master doesn’t want it,” said Yukiko boldly. She looked at Zayn.
“I’ll have her tongue, for starters—but first, I’ve thought of something nice. It looks like she’s still alive, so how about we give her a treat for her troubles?” His eyes were full of dark amusement, and he glanced at Zephara’s ample tits, delectably browned and dripping with grease. “Let’s feed the bitch some good breast meat.”
“Isn’t that a waste?” said Della. “I like breasts. They’re so rich and chewy and filling… Especially big fat ones like those.”
Zephara would have flushed in anger and embarrassment, were she still able.
“They’re not…” she started to say weakly, but her words were cut off.
Severa leaned in with the knife. Yukiko jabbed the fork through one of her nipples, stabbing the tines into her teat so that hot, clear juices seeped forth. Severa pressed the knife’s edge in along the side of Zephara’s breast, sawing easily through the crispy skin, carving deeper and deeper until the greasy blade had emerged from the other side, and Yukiko lifted the fork with a hefty serving of Zephara’s breast, nipple and all.
The samurai foxkin smiled and pressed this to Zephara’s lips. The sorceress whimpered and tried to keep her mouth shut. She could see Zayn standing in front of her, his cock in hand. He was stroking himself as he watched this scene, his eyes gleaming.
“Open wide,” he told her.
Zephara was forced to almost crack her jaws, spreading her lips as far apart as she could. Her eyes widened to their limit as Yukiko forced the cut of her breast into her mouth. Horrified, the redhead tasted her own skin and felt her hot, crispy nipple pressing onto her tongue. She tried to spit this out, but Zayn beat her to the punch, stroking faster. Della was kneeling before him now, too, kissing and licking the tip of her master’s enormous manhood, licking up the precum like an appetizer.
“Chew,” Zayn said. “Then swallow. Eat it all.”
Zephara had no choice in the matter. Her body acted automatically. She felt her jaws work, grinding her teeth down, ripping through the fat of her breasts, slicing the skin and mashing the milk gland. The taste was admittedly delicious, but she could only think of how appalling this was, how sick and wrong and horrible. She writhed in wordless protest, wishing she had any power to resist. But all she could do was obey, and she pathetically ate her own tit.
Severa cut off another slice, and Yukiko fed this to Zephara. The redhead ate it. Zayn watched, jerking himself faster, placing his free hand on the back of Della’s head and forcing her mouth down. The blonde happily bobbed her head, sucking and slurping on her master’s splendid cock. Severa and Yukiko worked diligently, carving away at Zephara’s tits, making the sorceress eat them completely. Zephara felt sick from it, and she wanted to retch and spit it all back up, but she wasn’t allowed to do so. She could only swallow it, perversely consuming her own flesh.
By the time Zephara was down to the last slice of tit, her chest flat with only two large, open circles to show where her boobs had once been, Zayn was having Della deepthroat him, masturbating with the priestess’s throat. He enjoyed the spectacle they’d made of the sorceress, and he loved the look of humiliation on her face, the miserable expression that she was wearing. He watched her swallow the final mouthful of her own breasts, and his cock spasmed, erupting down Della’s throat. The priestess gladly swallowed his ejaculation, thrilled by the exceptional ferocity he was showing today. She pulled back and blessed his cock with a loving kiss, then turned, licking her lips.
They were ready to eat.
Zayn carved out Zephara’s pussy. He took this most delicate cut and showed it to the sorceress as he ate it. She watched mutely, too emotionally drained to react with anything more than a dull, faint horror. She grimaced, watching him shove the cunt into his mouth. Zayn chewed it, eating Zephara’s pussy in the most vividly literal sense.
“Awww,” said Yukiko. “You wanted it instead?”
Zayn smirked and suddenly kissed the girl. He groped her ass and thrust his tongue into her mouth, depositing a goodly portion of Zephara’s partially masticated genitals into Yukiko’s maw. The girl made a muffled sound of surprise into his mouth, not displeased to share with her master in this way. She held herself close to him and purred, sucking on his tongue and swallowed the meat he gave her. She wiggled her hips and ground herself against his body, looking ready to strip and plunge herself down on his cock.
Zayn grunted and lightly pushed Yukiko off, once she had gotten her desired mouthful. He patted her ass and gave her a lightly remonstrating look.
“Don’t be greedy.”
She blushed but looked shameless.
Severa reached over and carved off one of Zephara’s ass cheeks. She sliced the other one for Della, and they ate these like whole hams, the buttocks plump and meaty, tender and delicious. They both moaned at the taste, and they smiled at Zephara, making it clear how much they enjoyed eating her flesh. The redhead was mortified by their orgasmic expressions, and she shivered at the sensual, swaying movements of their bodies.
Zayn forced the sorceress’s mouth open, distracting her.
“Do you have any last words?”
Zephara felt her insides burn.
“Go fuck yourself.”
He grabbed her tongue and pulled on it, then shoved his knife into her open mouth. Zephara froze up, fearing that he was going to kill her—but no, she felt a rush of contrarian pleasure as the knife bit into her tongue, carving through the muscular member with surprising skill. He had an impressive dexterity, and he managed to cut her tongue right out of her mouth.
The taste buds were deeply darkened, seared black where they had been rubbing against the spit, and the tongue overall was dark brown. Zephara looked at it in mute despair, her hatred for Zayn only increasing as she watched him teasingly taste her tongue, sucking it slowly into his mouth where he slurped and noisily chewed it. He made a point of eating it as loudly as possible, letting her see and hear how much he enjoyed robbing her of speech. There was perhaps something symbolic about this act, but all Zephara could think was how she hated this man.
His slaves had more. Yukiko cut into Zephara’s side and wrenched out one of her ribs. Della cut open Zephara’s belly and had herself a helping of roasted organ meat. Severa plucked out Zephara’s ovaries, feeling a little sadistic. And Zayn hacked off one of Zephara’s legs, lopping it from the rest of her body and chowing on it like a drumstick. Zephara was conscious through all of this, still alive and aware as she was carved and eaten. She could feel it all, every stab of pain a jolt of pleasure.
She didn’t know how she would get through this with her sanity intact. More than anything else, she feared that she might end up becoming addicted to this kind of experience. It was too perversely pleasurable, too horribly degrading. There was something darkly exciting about it.
But she managed to cling to her hatred, and she resisted any fondness or growing addiction. She’d been willing to go to any lengths to destroy Zayn Darkmore, and she wasn’t going to succumb to his gruesome trickery. Not this easily.
She had no words. She had no voice. She had nothing but her continuing existence. She watched her HP drop in chunks with every slice of meat carved away, with every hunk of flesh torn from her body. The damage was outpacing the regeneration, but the healing was still enough to forestall her demise. She watched her health bar gradually drop, chunks of red chewing through the green, before the green would start to grow back up. Her MP was also continuing to drain away decreasing, now down to just a third, now just a quarter.
Zayn’s other party members had come over now. Zephara didn’t know half of their names. She didn’t care who they were. She just knew that she hated all of them for siding with this monster, and she only wished that she still had her tongue so she could curse them as they ripped away more and more of her flesh. Her insides were empty, and her ribs were bare. Her arms and legs had been wrenched away, and the warm, oily bones—once denuded of meat—were discarded in the grass.
Her health bar was down to a tiny fraction. Most of her flesh was gone, and she was perversely aware of her discombobulated bones, stripped of everything edible. Her head was about the last thing left that hadn’t been completely eaten, but it wasn’t untouched. The relatively scant meat was peeled from her face and her cheeks, and she felt her lips torn away.
She felt no pain. It was all pure pleasure. It was the utmost conceivable degradation.
She was aware of it until the absolute end, her once flawlessly voluptuous body reduced to nothing but bones, when her health bar finally emptied.
She was dead.
Then, she respawned.
And Zayn was standing over her, his cock out and erect.
Immediately, Zephara tried to log out. But she didn’t have permission.
“Not yet,” Zayn told her, blocking her access to the menu. She was naked, but the slave collar was still around her neck. “We aren’t done playing.”
It was going to be a very, very long day.
… … … … …
A/N: This is an interesting one, if only for being a commissioned fic based on a web serial. Always enjoyable to do some dolcett, anyway, and it’s a novelty to find series that actually cater to that fetish. Even if only occasionally and in minimal detail. But this is based on Rules Free VRMMO Life.
TTFN and R&R!
– — ❤