The Cardinal Four Part One

The Cardinal Four Part One v1.01
Tags: Female commisssar, bloodletter, cunnilingus, long tongue, exhibition, dubcon, vaginal

Synopsis: A female commissar is captured and subjected to humiliating sexual tortures by daemons from each of the four Chaos Gods. First is the bloodletter, who softens her up with his tongue before humping her silly.

	The blood red sun was setting. Night encroached on the red dusk, the last few rays of light fading over the face of the woman. Her eyes flickered open, the crusted blood on the back of her head itching profoundly, almost as badly as her whole head ached. When she tried to lift her hand to scratch at the dried wound, she found it would not move. A quick glance to the side explained her predicament. Her wrists were bound by old, rune-covered chains against the wall on either side of her. She hung over the ground, groggily squinting around, trying to make out the figures and shapes moving in the darkness before her.

	Before she could open her mouth to speak, she heard several people talking, and then torches were ignited, shedding light over the wasted battleground around her. People covered in clothes bearing icons of unspeakable sin, their flesh similarly imprinted with tattoos of those symbols, walked around, dragging the prisoners, the wounded, and the dead into separate piles. Their faces ran the gamut from nervous fear to hardened apathy. She watched them quietly, revulsion growing in her chest.

	Then she noticed that one of the despicable traitors was eyeing her up. She took inventory of her countenance: her signature hat and greatcoat had both been removed, presumably stolen by the damned cultists to keep warm in the chilly night. Her ceramite carapace chestplace was also gone, as was her combat belt and bandolier and boots. All that was left was her pure white blouse, her krak weave pants, and her undergarments. She found herself somewhat surprised that they had not also taken those.

	The cultist’s eyes ran over her features, appreciating her soft facial features, the beauty mark just below her lip, her lustrous black hair tied into a bun, her modest bust contrasted with the undeniably wide and curvy hips she possessed, her thick and meaty thighs – she normally hid those distracting traits under her coat and hat, trying not to draw attention to them while attempting to lead her troops. And without her high boots to boost her height to a more average level, she was somewhat short.

	If any of her men could see her now, she was concerned that the delicate discipline she maintained over them would be endangered due to her true appearance being revealed. For the time being, she contented herself with giving the cultist her best sneer, managing to frighten him away even in spite of her admittedly voluptuous body. She was a commissar, after all, no mere soldier of the Imperium. If she could not strike the fear of the God-Emperor into the common heretic regardless of what sort of body she held, she never would have made it as far as she had.

	That was when new movements in the corner of her eye caught her attention. A group of four was approaching the half-intact wall she had been restrained against, except none of them were human. That much she could tell even in the dim light and with her splitting headache. As they neared, her eyes came into focus, and widened slightly in recognition. Daemons, strangely humanoid ones, but clearly daemons nonetheless.

	The first one was a bloodletter, wearing nothing as he clearly had nothing to hide. Rippling, sinewy muscle covered every inch of his blood red body, and his chiseled face had the mark of Khorne on his forehead. Long, curved, deadly sharp horns stretched above his skull, and sharp fangs peeked over his lower lip. At his groin, a massive member swung as he walked, the equally huge balls beneath it dangling freely for all to see. A perpetual snarl seemed stuck on his face, and his expression did not improve when he looked at the chained woman – if anything, it appeared to worsen.

	Following behind him was a peculiarity, a rather androgynous blue skinned person covered in some sort of feathery tunic that billowed out around them, the fluff obscuring all of their torso and most of their thighs. They had long, flowing hair that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow, fantastically dazzling. If they had a bosom or a package, it was well-hidden. They held an ethereal, almost ephemeral sort of beauty, every angle from which the commissar viewed them as they walked giving them different instants of masculine handsomeness as well as feminine prettiness. They did not give even a cursory glance at the wall, nor the one who was hanging from it.

	Third was a tall, gaunt figure, his flesh a sickly green. The only apparent signs of his daemonhood were the gnarled, branching horns on his head, his impossibly thin and tall figure, and the mark of Nurgle on his emaciated cheek. He calmly, stoically stared at everything for a few seconds before looking at something else. He was nude much like the bloodletter. His penis seemed longer, though not quite as thick, but his balls were utterly enormous in comparison, putting even the servant of Khorne to shame. When his eyes locked onto the ebony-haired woman, he never looked away, his sunken eyes seemingly boring into her.

	The last, and final, daemon was perhaps the most typical sort. She was a daemonette, wearing only the finest silk brassiere and loincloth, strutting along with wide, swaying hips and licking her thick, full lips with her inhumanly long tongue. Her full breasts and thick ass bounced and jiggled incessantly despite the pathetic cloth trying to contain and cover them up, seemingly as soft as clouds yet heavy as rocks. Her left forearm was like a giant lobster claw. A long, fleshy tail extended behind her. She was by far the most outright sexual of the quartet, though the commissar naturally found herself wondering if this one was like all the others of her kind – packing a man’s pride under that cloth.

	All four daemons stepped before the woman, and she steeled herself. They were clearly here for her, and she did not intend to let them have her soul so easily. The commissar wished with every fiber of her being that she could break free from the enchanted chains that bound her and deliver the God-Emperor’s justice upon them all, even if she stood no chance against them unarmed and unarmored. Death in combat against the Great Enemy was by far preferable to whatever fell tortures they might concoct and defile her with.

	Indeed, she had fought long and valiantly against the foes that besieged the planet, but she and her men had been outnumbered and outgunned from the start. Though they all fought to the last, true soldiers of the Imperium, it was an inevitability that they would be overwhelmed and destroyed. She hoped that the last survivors of her regiment had been wise enough to commit suicide rather than allow themselves to be captured. She, herself, was simply unlucky that she was caught off-guard and knocked out before she could pull the wire of pins off of her grenade bandolier and charge to her doom.

	The servant of Tzeentch finally gave the chained prisoner their attention, lifting one of their baggy sleeves to cover their mouth as they spoke, only the curled edges of their smiling lips visible. “So, you are Commander-Commissar Diana?” they spoke in flawless High Gothic. Hearing them use that sacred language made Diana’s hatred flare up for a moment, but she held back, trying to preserve her energy.

	“I sincerely doubt it matters whether I say so or not,” she said in a calm tone, her actual feelings anything but.

	“Hmm. Perhaps. I see you are as fetching as I thought you might be,” the blue-skinned one said. “Did your soldiers know about the beauty leading the charges into the enemy’s ranks? I imagine they must have masturbated to you often, to the thought of violating such a ravishing, stern, hateful woman, who executed people for the merest hints of corruption!”

	“Frak off,” Diana hissed, her anger bleeding through. She would not listen to such groxshit about her men, who died valiantly.

	“We have come to see if you are worthy of our cause, dear commissar. We are in need of a talented mortal general. The four of us cannot lead these armies alone, not for much longer. Our disorganized hordes are swelling rapidly, and we require order, strategy, tactics, all such things that you specialize in. I myself can, of course, draft unfathomably complex plots, but my specialty does not lie in warfare, and I am quite bored by all of this fighting,” the feathery one giggled.

	“And you seriously think I’ll just go to work for you despicable monsters?”

	“Oh, we have ways of convincing you. That is not a concern,” the gender ambiguous one cackled, turning to their companions. “We need her brainpower and body intact. That means no mental attacks, they’d turn her brain to mush. Which means we need her to join us willingly. Which means… well, I think you all understand. We must show her a few of the perks of serving our masters.”

	“Say no more. Commissars are always the tightest fucks you can find in this millennium,” the bloodletter growled, gazing upon the commissar’s curvaceous figure with a smug grin. His studded and ridged shaft began to harden almost immediately, jerking upward and engorging rapidly. Thick purple veins rose under the skin, and it throbbed hard in anticipation of what was coming. The feathery one sighed and shook their head.

	“That’s not what I meant – oh well. It would seem our course of action has been decided. I suppose we’ll all take turns with her?”

	“I find these terms amicable,” the quiet and thin nurglite said, still watching the captive mortal’s every movement.

	“Mmm, sure, but only if I get to go first,” the daemonette said, walking up to Diana and gently caressing her cheek with her unbearably soft pink fingers. Diana felt strangely warm in her core from the touch, and startled and leaned away from it when she realized that she was enjoying it. The chains clinked as she struggled against them, desperate to escape the encroaching daemon.

	“Get fucked! She’s mine first!” roared the bloodletter, charging forward and smacking the creature of excess out of the way with one of his massive rippling arms. She flew several meters away and smacked into the ground, moaning from the pleasurable pain of the injury. The warrior of blood inhaled through his nostrils which flared with the womanly scent of the commissar. She spat on his face, and he grinned, licking it up with his long, thick tongue. “Oh yes, I love it when they have fight left in them. Come on, bitch!” he shouted, reaching out and tearing the chains right out of the wall, dropping the woman to the ground.

	Diana cursed under her breath as the heavy chains fell down on either side of her, still attached to her wrists. She looked up at the monster with a hateful grimace, knowing that she stood no chance against something almost twice her size. That was not going to stop her from trying, however. She screamed and swung one of her arms up, the chain flying at the daemon’s cranium. He lifted an arm and caught it effortlessly, tightening his grip until the steel crumpled beneath it. A link shattered and metal flew around, most of the length of the chain broken off. “Is that the best you can muster?”

	She bent down, her hands going to the soggy dirt below her. The bloodletter’s patience ran out and he stepped forward, only for her to bolt upright, hurling two large clumps of soil at his eyes. He yelled in surprise, grabbing at the air in front of him with closed eyes, and she darted around him, swinging her chain over his head and wrapping it around his neck twice. She put her foot on his massive back and pulled back with all of her strength, choking him out. Or at least, so she hoped.

	He grasped at the chains, his strength apparently waned to the point that he could no longer effortlessly break the metal. He gasped for air, hollow sucking noises proof of the effectiveness of the assault. However, the commissar was exhausted. She could not keep choking him – such was his bulk that it required an inordinate amount of force to keep his windpipe throttled, and before the last bit of strength left him, her arms gave out, and the chains loosened slightly.

	He reached back behind himself and grabbed her by the leg she had planted on his back, lifting her right off of the ground by it before turning to glare down at her face. “Clever, but it looks like you just didn’t have enough left in you to follow through. Shame,” he said in his low, breathy voice as he sucked air in through his nostrils. His free hand went to her waist, grabbing the fabric of her pants and tearing them right off of her in one smooth motion upward. She felt the cool night air flowing over her legs, tickling at her inner thighs, and glared up at the daemon, trying to hate him to death. Her standard issue black panties, emblazoned with a white aquila on the back, was the only thing covering her unmentionables anymore.

	Diana looked around frantically, trying to find some way out of her precarious situation. She saw the three cohorts of the bloodletter, all of them watching intently. The Tzeentchian daemon whispered something to one of the cultists, and they nodded and ran off. She twisted her neck to peer at the ground, and to her surprise, saw a huge combat knife laying just below her. The commissar yelped as she felt herself suddenly lifted off of the ground, clutching at the knife on the ground and almost grabbing it, only for it to slip from her fingers and return to the earth.

 	She felt the daemon’s other hand move to grab her other dangling leg, holding her steady as he lifted her feet over his own head. The bloodletter’s massive shaft dragged over her body as she went, and she could feel the unthinkable heat pulsing from it through her blouse. The tip dragged over neck and then her cheek before she was lifted over it, a thin trail of hot precum left behind on her skin. He stopped when her pelvis was hanging before his face. Her eyes were locked on his girth not so far below her, watching it twitch hungrily.

	It smelled thick and musky, the forbidden tool of a daemon practically emanating an aura of evil. That fuzzy sensation in her gut left by the daemonette seemed to amplify when she breathed the scent in. She averted her face, trying to evade further sight or smell of it, but she could already feel the effect it was having on her body. Diana’s heartbeat accelerated, she felt warm, her cheeks flushed, and there was an undeniable dampness building in her crotch. She found herself painfully aware that it was inches from the warrior of blood’s face, trying not to think of why he was pulling her thighs further apart. His hot breath spilled between her thighs, the wet warmth making her squirm, feeling her loins filling with arousal despite all of her hatred for the beast manhandling her.

	The clinking of the chains around his neck reminded her that she still had that, at least, but she also knew that she could never really hope to exert enough force to strangle him in the condition she was in. Diana resolved to bide her time, and wait for her strength to recover enough to attempt it once more. Unfortunately, being upside-down made such prospects slim at best.

	Before she could consider her options further, something warm, wet, and long slid over her groin, pressing against her engorged labia through her panties. She gasped involuntarily, looking up to see the bloodletter’s inhuman tongue running back and forth over her. To her horror, he gave her long, forceful licks with the slippery appendage, curling it up and down against her with loud, slobbery slurps.

	The black-haired woman gasped again from the stimulus, her sensitive vulva twitching against his expert ministrations. The commissar immediately bit down on her lip until she drew blood, trying to fight against the disgusting pleasure she felt. She refused to give these monsters the satisfaction of watching her enjoy what they were doing to her, even if her traitorous body would not obey her will. Another lick made her knees shake in the air above, and she felt sickened at her inability to so much as hide the state she was in.

	“Hmm, the good commissar is lucky she’s somewhat short, if she was even a bit taller, he’d probably have jammed his length into her throat,” commented the Tzeentchian with amusement. The Slaaneshian gave a quiet nod, her hands drifting under her loincloth to pleasure herself, while the Nurglite simply continued to stare at the woman with his unsettling gaze.

	The bloodletter’s tongue slid under the thin black cloth, rubbing over the bare flesh beneath it and sending a shiver down Diana’s spine. It pushed the obstacle to the side, revealing the commissar’s well-soaked pussy. Spending only a moment to appreciate the flushed, puffy folds staring him in the eye, he grinned. Then he sent his tongue to slither over her again, and she let out a muffled groan behind her sealed lips.

	As his manhood throbbed beneath his victim, the servant of Khorne got greedy. He plunged his tongue between her folds, sending its thick length deeper and deeper inside of her, tasting her insides for himself. This time, she moaned openly as she was spread wide by the velvety appendage. Her thick labia visibly pulsed around the length, drawing the eyes of the audience. Her walls were soft and hot and wet, tightening around his tongue reflexively as he slid it in and out in a steady, tortuous rhythm.

	“Ahh! Ahn,” the commissar groaned out weakly, her entire body writhing around as the abject pleasure rocked through her. Trying to anchor herself, she wrapped her arms around the midsection of the bloodletter, clinging to him tightly. He took advantage of this and lowered his grip from her ankles to her taut rump, his massive fingers wrapping around her cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he continued to tongue-fuck her.

	His claws dug into her skin, drawing blood wherever he held her, the sensation pleasing him deeply while adding slight, sharp pricks of pain onto the pile of sensations Diana felt. To her surprise, they seemed to enhance the way the tongue felt as it swished and swirled around inside of her. Raunchy splurches smacked out depending on how he slid the appendage around inside of her, like a symphony of sex playing in her ears and for the casual observer to hear.

	She wished that she could be dead, that she would not have to endure this humiliation, or that she had no genitals to violate in the first place. Her body was weak, vulnerable to such earthly delights, and the realization burned inside of her. As her anger mounted, the tongue’s machinations inside of her forced out another lusty moan, to her dismay. Water welled up in her eyes even as she felt the unstoppable approach of a deep, primal urge, something completely beyond her power to prevent. She blinked back the tears, refusing to let them see her cry.

	Diana feared it, she feared what she recognized instinctively as an oncoming orgasm; she feared how it would feel, what noises she would make, the betrayal of her oaths that it would represent, and what she might do because of it. What she might become. The tongue plunged deeper inside of her, and her entire form tensed up, shaking and squirming against him weakly as her passage squeezed around the pink appendage. She uttered a prayer to the Emperor, but the words sounded hollow and forced with her whiny, breathy tone. Her climax only lasted for several seconds, but they were some of the most intense, most physically blissful seconds of her life. And it horrified her.

	The bloodletter’s tongue slid out of her moments later, retracting into his mouth. “Hah! You already came, slut? I guess letting that bitch touch you was a mistake. I hope you’ve at least got the spirit left to be a good fuck,” he growled, flipping her upright and turning her around so she was facing away from him. He held her against his torso by her thighs, slicing more shallow cuts in her skin and letting thin rivulets of blood run down her smooth, tanned curves.

	He directed one claw down the side of her panties, and the cloth sliced right through. They fell to the ground, no chance of them impeding his next acts upon her. The commissar was dimly aware that she was being positioned over the Khornite’s huge shaft. One of her arms hung up in the air, suspended by the chain around his neck. She gulped and swayed around in the daemon’s grip, trying to recover from her sweaty, dazed state when she saw prisoners being marched out in front of her by heretics. They were her men, over two dozen survivors from her regiment that looked ragged and exhausted.

	They seemed distant, almost completely out-of-touch with reality, but when their eyes met the body of their commander, they gleamed in sudden recognition and shock. Diana looked at each of them, an unease building in her stomach as they stared at her, at her bare legs, and at her curvaceous thighs. She grew acutely aware of her lower nudity, and realized what the monsters intended.

	“You sick bastards!” Diana yelled, struggling against the bloodletter’s hard chest, trying to slam her elbows against it, only for them to rebound harmlessly off due to his bulk. She cursed and screamed at the top of her lungs, but her words fell on deaf ears. The servant of Khorne chuckled deeply at her plight, clearly enjoying the sadistic situation. Then, he began to slowly pull her thighs open. She yelled unflattering insults at him, trying to force her legs shut and conceal her glory, but the daemon parted them easily with his brute strength.

	He spread her as wide as she could go, displaying her flexibility in front of her wide-eyed troops. For an instant, they could all see her wet slit, a hint of pink visible between her lips in the torchlight. She immediately moved her one free hand down to cover up her flower. “If you value the souls of your men, I would suggest you move your hand,” the bloodletter growled. She blanched. While they had sworn an oath to give up their lives in the service of the God-Emperor, it was to be in the field of battle, for honor, not for the modesty of their commander. She could never ask her men to die for her own comfort. Defeated and ashamed, she removed her hand and her legs went limp, hanging in the daemon’s grip. Her thick cunt was completely exposed to the view of the cultists, prisoners, and daemons.

	With her resistance crushed, she looked at her men, shaking her head slowly in desperation. Some of them averted their eyes out of respect. Some closed their eyes out of fear. Some kept looking at her, their expressions blank, already traumatized past the point of being able to care. The last one, a lascivious woman with blonde hair and a nice pair of tits, kept looking at her commander with a sleazy smirk on her face. Diana never did like Private Quentin. The tart had a screw loose and would sleep with anyone, even other women or prisoners of war, if she could. Judging by her ragged countenance and lack of pants, the private had already been ravaged by the cultists once or twice, not that it seemed to curb her deeply perverted nature. In all likelihood, Diana thought, Quentin had probably initiated it and enjoyed it far more than she should have.

	 But the commissar did not have the luxury of choosing her soldiers, only how to most effectively use them. Quentin had always been a good shot, at least, whenever she was not seeking to further the depths of her own depravity. The traitor guardsmen smashed the prisoners who tried not to stare at their commander’s nude, alluring body with the butts of their lasguns, demanding they look or die.

	A few refused to obey. The blast of electromagnetic radiation through their craniums, followed by the superheating of their grey matter and the resultant splash of boiling pink upon the ground was their answer. Soon, all of the rest had their eyes locked on the commissar whether they liked it or not. The commissar’s heart sank, even as she felt a strange, electric stirring in her loins. All of the stares – from all directions, seeing her as a woman, not a commander – were awakening something deeply repressed, something she had long since forgotten the feeling of.

	This she knew she could not blame on the daemonette, as it was a quirk of her youth that she had buried behind years of indoctrination and training. But it had never really gone away, merely receded. And now she could feel it returning, quickening her heartbeat in her chest and causing a fine layer of sweat to build on her skin from the arousal. The cultists whispered jokes about her, calling her a whore. She found it difficult to disagree – such a pathetic fetish! Revulsion at her own self mounted, but she could not control such a natural reaction. She realized that she could not prevent it, just like she could not prevent her own defilement at the hands of the daemon. It was only a matter of time.

	One of the red beast’s claws dragged down her blouse, popping the buttons off and causing it to fall open. Her black bra and modest chest was revealed to the onlookers, both cultist and guardsman. She could feel her cheeks burning in shame. Being violated was one thing, but it happening in front of her beloved troops was unbearable. And getting off on that was by and far worse. For their sake, however, she bit her lip and resolved to endure. If she could just buy time, perhaps Imperial reinforcements would arrive and rescue them. Perhaps, she repeated mentally.

	“Fucking scum!” Diana shouted, wishing that her insults could somehow burn the ears of the four servants of Chaos off. She felt the daemon slowly lower her down until she shivered at the touch of his tip against the thick, tight flesh of her asscheek. The commissar gulped. The dread in her heart amplified as the burning hot appendage traced a line forward until she felt it brushing over her slit, tingling and making her squirm around nervously. Internally, she was wondering if she could even take it, due to its sheer size. The bloodletter snorted through his nostrils, licking his lips and enjoying the anticipation and anxiety building in the officer.

	And then, his fun at her fear was outweighed by his own base desires, and he began to pull her down on his rod. Her engorged flesh slowly parted as he worked his massive head into her folds, and she inhaled sharply as she felt the heat entering her most vulnerable place. The daemon was penetrating her, burying his corrupt shaft inside of her, piercing her at the core of her femininity. He forced inch after inch into her inviting passage, growling appreciatively at the way she squeezed around him and squirmed on his dick.

	The thrill that shot through Diana’s traitorous pelvis as he entered, the listless and excited expressions on her troops’ faces, the very soft schlick that only she and the daemon could hear as her wet flesh was parted, and the symbolic nature of her violation – she experienced the most perplexing, infuriating sensation of pleasure and pain, hatred and fear. It was profoundly intense, brutally visceral, cloyingly primal. It was the best and the worst thing she had ever felt at the same time.

	Some of the onlookers began to cry. Some found themselves with an entirely different reaction, the sudden tight bulge of their pants plainly visible even in the dim light. Diana tried to ignore their arousal, but as she expected, she could not change what she was any more than she could change the daemon’s desire to ravish her. Their reactions turned her on even more.

	“Haha! Damn, you’re tight! I didn’t think you’d be such a whore that you’d get off on all of this!” the Khornite said in an uproarious tone. He lifted her back up until only his tip remained inside of her before lowering her back down as far as she would go on his length, which glistened with her juices. He grunted as he felt her insides twitching around him, slowly adjusting to his sheer size. Diana stifled a moan with the back of her free hand as he proceeded to slam her down with far more strength than before. She could feel each and every muscle on his warm, beefy chest against her back as she was moved up and down like a cocksleeve. The beating of the massive organ in his chest thudded against the back of her head like the steady drums of an Imperial military procession.

	“Oh, my. I hope the commissar will survive this,” the androgynous Tzeentchian said.

	“For a bloodletter, he’s not bad at that,” the daemonette giggled, plunging her fingers into her snatch rhythmically as she watched the unholy display. She was hiding behind a pillar so as to not steal the attention of the crowd away from the main show, though her mere proximity was having a marked effect on everyone present. The Nurglite, on the other hand, simply stood and watched the commissar, staring at her without blinking or moving.

	The ridged and studded column of red flesh rubbed over her pink walls in the most sensitive places, shooting electric excitement through her and making her struggle to breathe, and compelling her heart to skip beats – such was the quality of pleasure it induced in her. It was as if there was some deep, longing itch in her core, and every thrust into her scratched it for a single moment of bliss before the need returned, stronger and deeper than before.

	Before she knew it, the commissar was closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, the pleasure rocking through her body in the form of shivers and shakes. The forbidden cock inside of her was surely emanating some sort of unholy aura that seduced her body, she thought. Its size, shape, and relentless throbbing inside of her to the rhythm of his heartbeat had nothing to do with it, or so she convinced herself. The bloodletter began to throw himself into the fucking, picking up the pace and bucking his member up and into her as he lowered her onto it for added effect.

	Diana’s luscious, glistening lips twisted open, unleashing a lusty moan that betrayed all of the physical enjoyment she felt. Her head felt light, her legs were completely jelly in the daemon’s hands, and she could feel the threshold of her building climax approaching rapidly. She opened her eyes, a lock of hair hanging down in her vision. She noted in her surreal state that her normally neat bun must have been coming undone from all of the bouncing she was doing. Then she wondered why she would think about such a thing, and the sudden sensation of fullness in her cunt as the daemon slammed himself all the way in again tore her out of her dazed state.

	Her vision came into focus, and a unique sense of horror filled her. Some – about half – of her subordinates had actually dropped their trousers and were meekly tugging at their erections. In the case of Private Quentin, she was actually sucking off a cultist right then and there, groping one of her exposed breasts and stealing amused glances at her commanding officer as her head bobbed over the length. The cultist had a strange, mutated nutsack, completely purple, covered in pulsing veins, and with a set of several daemonic eyes peering out at the world greedily. The eyes all suddenly rolled upward, the pair of swollen testes visibly lifted up, and the cultist groaned. Nausea permeated Diana’s gut as she saw the blonde’s throat shift up and down a few times, swallowing the hot, wicked, sinful loads being pumped down it.

	Quentin gulped it all down without err, finally popping off of the traitor guardsman’s member with a loud, satisfied sigh and a pointed glance at the commissar. A single strand of pure black semen slid down from her lip, which she licked up without a moment’s hesitation. The bloodletter cackled at the sight, knowing how Diana must be feeling. Her beloved soldiers were engaging in true sin, pleasuring themselves at the sight of her being violated by an unspeakable monster. One of them was even performing debased acts with her mortal enemies, taking corrupt seed into her body gleefully. Well, truthfully she was not surprised about Quentin, but the rest’s behavior did disturb her.

	And arouse her, for that matter, but at this point, the commissar already felt like she was going to explode. The bloodletter’s girth was driving her insane, and the fact that he knew how to use it only made things worse. He was a beast, a stronger, superior being, ravaging her relentlessly. Diana almost thought that her desperation to remain in control of herself was only prolonging her torture, making her last longer and longer. Some part of herself wanted to surrender to the impulses she felt on such a fundamental level, to give herself in to the incredible pleasure and finally find the release she longed for. But she was a commissar, not a mere woman, she reminded herself. Daemons or no daemons, she would resist until the very last ounce of willpower was stolen from her and her mind was broken.

	That moment came sooner than she had hoped. Only a few minutes later, all of the sensations assaulting her senses suddenly came to a head, amplifying and intensifying before she could realize what was happening. The commander had only enough presence of mind to think of her soldiers at that moment and chomp down on her lip, suppressing the loud moan of ecstasy that she knew she would have shamefully allowed to happen in private.

	She felt her limbs shake with the excess of energy of her climax, and Diana knew her chance had come. She took full advantage of it to yank down on her arm still held in the air by the steel chain around the bloodletter’s neck. Even as her thighs twitched and her slit clamped down around the daemon’s shaft, she was delighted to hear the sputtering choking noises of the servant of Khorne. Her orgasm became so much more sweet and fulfilling, better than even another tongue-fucking could have given her. This time, she really did gasp and shudder and smile in pleasure, keeping one of her eyes open and enough focus to ensure the strangling would not be ruined.

	After the hot bliss of her climax began to fade, she put more of her weight on the chain, tightening it around him for good measure. The Khornite’s grip around her legs loosened after a while, and the commissar felt him suddenly seize up and his tool pulse harder than ever before. The rod visibly throbbed upward with massive bulges of red hot cum that erupted inside of her. Diana’s disgust at the thought of the dense, daemonic spunk she knew was filling her up, which she could feel spilling out of her passage en masse and hear splattering all over the ground like a hose, was counterbalanced by her much deeper joy at her chance to kill her most hated foe after what he had done to her. The rippling of her folds around his pulsing cock as it poured the daemon's load into her deepest depths was purely her body's irresistible reaction to the sensation of his explosive climax. On some level, in some twisted way, she could not help but enjoy it.

	After a while more, his strength had all but faded, and the bloodletter collapsed backwards onto the ground, his long tongue hanging out of his mouth. It almost looked like an expression of pure joy was on his gothic, frozen features. He brought Diana with him, though his fingers finally broke away from her sore thighs. Diana slipped off of his member in the tumble and fell awkwardly onto his massive chest, panting for air and resting her sore arm.

	She glanced down between her legs at her tingling womanhood to see the thick streams of his seed slowly pouring out of her, and saw the huge puddle of white semen that had pooled beneath the servant of Khorne. Her face contorted with an incredulous expression. Shaking her head to recover her focus, she placed her hand over his chest, and she could not feel a heartbeat from him. She had done it. Justice was served, and her honor had been recovered. Her heart soared for all of two seconds, until she realized that there were still three more daemons and countless hordes of heretics to deal with.