The shaman was kneeling before you, her eyes still burning with some defiance. However, there was a hazy edge to that defiant stare, and you knew that the various drugs were already beginning to take hold.

She had been stripped, before being brought to you. Her breasts were perk but heavy looking, nicely filling up a large handful, the small pink nipples each decorated with a glinting silver barbel. Her shoulders and belly were well toned, each muscle clearly defined and even now, without working much, they can be seen rippling with tension and stiffness. Her wrists were secured behind her, at the small of her back, her elbows likewise tied so they approached each other, causing her chest to thrust out lewdly. Between her equally well formed thighs, however, was a piece of jewelry which she might wish she had not brought with her. It had been found in her pack, and many of her captors had found the sight amusing. They’d put it on her almost immediately, and delivered the key to you so you could wear it.

It was a cage, only about an inch long, with a base ring that attached to it. Anyone could tell immediately what it was meant for, and several of your men had commented that this saved the labour of making one up specifically for her since this one seemed to already be such a perfect fit. The quality of craftsmanship was a sign of the treasured place the object had in the shamans life, and the thought of using it against her like a weapon was a slowly building pleasure.

The fire in her eyes tempered some, and she wavered on her knees. Her body seemed to be weakening before her will, but such was to be expected. The first effects seemed to steal the strength from a body before it began to heat it up. Already this was the case, as she was beginning to tremble, sweat forming on her brow. The burning heat would start from her belly and grow outwards. Already she panted. Already she was overheating. But it was just beginning. Next came the drooling. She was swallowing, a lot, but her glands were in severe overproduction. It wasn’t long before long strands of it started to leak, splattering on her chest. The panting was increasing, her chest trembling with each shaking breath, the spit starting to coat the cleavage. The last effect was something of a combination, and an acceleration, of the previous effect. The burning was a raging inferno, the spit was dribbling, and her mind got foggy. Unfocused. Things did not exist, she was caught in a spiral of burning need, a need that could not be met. Her cock was straining in the cage, bulging through the bars lewdly, enflamed flesh desperate and aching for touch, for relief, that would not come. It, too, was beginning to leak, the first long stand oozing out and slowly gliding to the floor. Her hips rolled and jerked, vainly trying to find sensation, but only finding frustration. Soon, her burning and hazy gaze made it’s way to your cock, laying between your legs. With a keening noise in her throat, she made her way to it.

“Tits,” you say, and she responds almost immediately. She presses them against your shaft, trying to put them together but failing. The spit slicked skin slides easily against your shaft, and she rubs desperately, body shaking, breath heaving, mouth oozing. She manages to work at you, getting you hard, your flesh rising and making it easier. Now she can press your cock between her chest and your belly and work her entire body to stroke it. The foreskin begins to roll back, revealing the thick mushroom head, itself pearly at the tip with your excitement. She lowers her face to it, giving it kissed, trailing her tongue around the crown. Her face lowers and she breathes in your scen, nostrils flaring at the rich musk flooding into her lungs. Another pearly drop of precum, and she pounces at it, not with her mouth but her nose, inhaling, snorting, bringing the physical source of your fuck scent into her sinuses, there to dance and swim and percolate. This only seems to make her go even harder, her tits seeming to be forgotten as she just starts to rub her face over ever spectacular inch of your massiveness. She does not lick or kiss, and wouldn’t need to anyway with how much slobber she’s smearing. She is meerely smelling. Not merely, to be fair. She is huffing and snorting and rubbing herself into you with the desperation of a drowning person before water. Her nose was between the shaft and the balls, rubbing, trying to get as much of you into her skin as possible. It wasn’t enough. She moved down, lifting your balls aside with her face and pressing it into your taint, huffing and grinding. It still wasn’t enough. If you had not been sitting on your throne, she would have continued and giving your ass a deep work out.

It still would not have been enough.

You smiled and relaxed, leaning back, and giving her some access to drive herself mad over. The composition of the drug was known to the Apothecaries, and they’d been refining it over centuries.

“The best description, my lord,” one of them said, “is that of an animal in rut. But even that pales to what its effect can achieve. Even the wildest beast, in the midst of their basest heat, can eventually be satisfied. Not so for this. They may feel like their genitals are hyper-sensitive, but it is just a secondary effect. The actual sensations are not there, and will never be enough to reach climax, but it will *feel* like there is a never ending cresting wave. It will never crest or break, only build. Any anything the victim may attempt to do will only seem to build faster. It should be used carefully, my lord. There is no known… Upper limit. The effect builds until it is over. The dosage increases the time the victim is afflicted, and the longer it goes, the more likely they are to break. More than a few sips will break many normal willed individuals. And I do not mean break as you enjoy them, either. They will be able only of breathing, blinking, and excreting. Not animal or beast, but bare vegetable matter that must perforce be kept alive through constant action.”

The bottles had been expensive, as the Alchemists explained that some of the increased potency over the years came from escalating mastery of the distillation. Old stock could be run through new process and become purer, stronger, for it to complement the new stock being constantly improved. The contents of some of these bottles were centuries old, refined by ages of scholars and workmen.

Expensive did not begin to cover the cost of these bottles. Entire kingdoms worth of plunder spent in six quart sized flasks.

After your men had captured the woman, who’d been making a nuiscance of herself raiding your supply lines, your forward camps, your scouts… Hundreds of men. Hundreds. From one infuriating shaman… After they’d captured her, and found her own personal cage, the idea had bloomed like a beautiful flower. The men held her chained while you forced the liquid into her.

Much of it spilled, worth of the work of thousands upon thousands of smallfolk spattering the ground, and your armor, and her skin. An entire flask spent trying to get the struggling, wriggling, incredibly fluid woman (She had the ability to nigh instantaneously shift into felines of various sizes. This made just strapping her to a surface securely nearly impossible and caused such a struggle) to swallow an approximate mouthful of the fluid. At least one mouthful, and most probably much more. It was difficult to be sure.

The crying had started. You could hear her, groaning and whimpering, beneath you. It had taken hold already, you did not know how long it would last. Some time, you imagined.

Your hand snatched down and wrapped up a fistful of hair to drag her up by. She fought, mewling, trying to get back to the dark scent that invaded her senses. You could see her cock, tightly caged, swollen and angry. You almost regretted not enjoying the sight of it unconstrained and free at its fullness, almost regretted not being able to watch her humping the floor in need, but this was just as enjoyable. The wetness drooling from the cages tip had made a veritable puddle on the cold marble floor, and it only promised to grow.

But there was work to be done.

You brought her face to the tip of your cock, and hungrily she opened her dripping lips to take in your head. It slid in, eased with her slop, but was still a considerable object to invade her mouth.

You didn’t care.

You pushed her down, driving the thick shaft into her throat. She wasn’t fighting anymore put still whined and mewled as even this foot long slab of cock wasn’t enough to satiate the fire in her belly.

You didn’t care.

Her nose slid home at your belly and you held her there, groaning. Her throat worked at you, but soon it became less about devouring your cock as it was fighting it. She coughed and choked, but it only made her breathing harder. Spit splattered from her nose, but still you held firm. Her eyes began to roll back and finally you let her up and removed all but four inches of yourself from her. She gasped and coughed again, barely able to draw in two ragged breaths before you hilted into her again. And held. Held until those eyes lost even more focus and her body screamed for air, and she began to go limp. Then enough for a few struggling breaths.

The rest of the officers and soldiers in the room watched, they themselves entranced. They watched you satisfy yourself, and it took a long time. When your orgasm finally arrived, the sudden gush of thick semen almost drowned her. She gagged and struggled, cum oozing from her mouth, bursting from her nose, as she struggled to swallow it all but simply could not.

And once the final spasms had finished, and you let her go. She slid to the ground, choking, into a puddle of her drool and slime, and of your cum. Sobbing, gagging, struggling to breathe, still the only thing she did was rub herself in her puddle of leaving. She lapped, and swallow, gargled and snorted.

It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be.

The rest of the men started to walk forward, removing their pants. They had frustrations of their own to work out with the shaman.

“No damaging her. If she survives, that is for me, and me alone.”