Illithid x Ashe

Beneath the thin crumbling layers of earth and water, creatures aberrant are known to dwell. One such being has waited patiently, awaiting the next step in her plan to begin in earnest. Perched upon a throne of ebon stone, she trails a finger across the coarse woven fabric of her robes, each mauve digit the colour of amethyst in the dim glow of the plinth before her. Illithids, such as they are, are known for patience and an unquenchable, desperate thirst for the fleeting thoughts of lesser creatures, a hunger that causes them to seek out the ingenious and adept alike. To this end, traps are set and feelers stretched. Long, slender tendrils of false promise edged into the world above.

Set upon the plinth, an orb of shimmering chrome and bronze bled soft, yellow light from its centre, a pleasing hum emanating from within. This sphere was a strangely pleasing object, one of a pair forged with a singular purpose; to transport the wielder of one to the other, teleporting them deep into the subterranean walls of damp stone and moss that the Illithid dwelled within. Leaning forward, the creature pushed its lithe, elegant figure towards the light, it’s pupil-less eyes affixed on the current holder of the second orb. She cared little for how it has ended in their possession, only for the sentience that dwelled within its soft white features. It was only a matter of time now. She curled her slender fingers, digging her touch into her warm, clammy thighs, her anticipation rising.

Ashe had never really been one for trinkets, of course as the leader of a tribe she was used to recieving such things, but it was the relationships forged in the exchaging of gifts that were the most valuble to her. The desire to unite this land and her people burned strongly through the body of the snow skinned Archer. her long white hair flowing over her shoulders as the blue dress hugged to her frame, a rather light state of dress perhaps for one that lived in such a cold climate, but with Iceborn blood running through her veins and a lifetime of hunting and trecking across the snowdrifts she was more than a little used to the cold.

All this said however, the latest "Trinket" that had fallen into her posession was particularily appealing. It had seemed ordinary at first, a simple metal orb that fitted comfortably into the palm of ones hand, the mysterious stranger that had handed it to her claiming it was a gift from a supportive admirer, and while she was usually cautious about such mysterious motives, the soft glow of the orb had seemed to ease away her intial trepidation. The day was long, though it felt longer in the summer of the Freljord, a 20 hour day burning bright above them as she finally retreated into her quarters to rest, sighing as she took off the large travelling cloak and relaxed back on her chair, staring into the orb casually as she rolled it around her palm. It really was attrative, and she wondered exactly what it had been created for, though such a thought was perhaps ill founded as she suddenly felt a pulling lurch, Ashe letting out a soft gasp as her body vanished from the chair, orb and all transported to an unknown location as her ass landed firmly on hard stone...

The soft thud of fabric and flesh on cold stone echoed through the darkened chamber, a stark contrast to the flash of light that danced across the craggy room, blinding, and hinting at its darker, serrated corners. The creature watched with interest at the sudden arrival, taking time to shift its imposing purple frame up to its full height, a gentle, apathetic sway of the hips as it crossed its legs, the sound of moist flesh sliding across rough fabric the only noise she makes. As the light dwindles and falls back to the orb, the rhythmic sounds of breathing are punctuated by the sound of slithering tendrils, an unconscious reaction to the hunger welling up inside Illithid.

These moments of startled confusion were always so delicious. To deprive a creature of explanation, of reason, to give no common ground – that was what raised her heartbeat, it fuelled the hunger. Those two white orbs sat within her skull gazed at the fresh arrival with a sense of apathy, slowly taking in the view of such a voluptuous, feisty creature. It would not be long before panic set in, before questions were asked and answers demanding, and that would be the time to remove their thoughts, at the very peak of desperation.

As she landed in the dark cavern, Ashe was blinded for a moment, the light and warmth of the fireplace seeming suddenly so far away as her eyes struggled to adapt to the suddenly far more gloomy setting, Ashe slowly getting to her feet as she could hear footsteps nearby, the sound of boots on stone along side something else, something... living, something writhing in the dark, slithering and wet, coiling through the air and making her heart skip a beat. Where was she? What was she doing here? The orb had clearly been enchanted in some way, slightly charmed to pull her in? The teleportation spell ingrained to bring her here? To what purpose? Think Ashe, don't panic!

Her eyes were adjusting to the dark now, the Ice Archer jumping up and turning around towards the source of the footsteps, her eyes making out the silouette through the gloom, and then the more volupteous form as well. Skin of dark violet, smooth and otherwordly, she looked feminine too, a soft gait in her step that acompanied the strange sense of seduction, but her form held the threat of something far more sinsiter, Ashe's eyes widening as she saw the 4 long tendrils coiling from her mouth, taking a step back as she went for the small dagger on her hip.

"You there! Are you the one that brought me here? I demand an explanation!" She replied, keeping her voice firm despite the panic in her mind, the Leader having learnt not to show fear to an enemy as she held herself straight, dagger held back in a ready position as she took a deep breath. "If you wanted an audience with me I would of prefered a less sinister approach!" Diplomacy Ashe? Sure that would work. You can't even tell if that thing is sentient let alone can understand you. You should run now, before she catches up to you with those horrofic looking tendrils...

The creature gave little visible response to the cries for clarity, the hand on the hilt of her blade an amusing attempt at imposing order and authority on the situation. The Illithid continued to sashay towards the poor, unfortunate Ice Archer, her graceful, bipedal sway of the hips at odds with the winding, twitching contortion of tendrils lacing her mandible. As the silhouette sharpens in the dim glow, she comes to a halt mere feet away from the defender, a long grasp of digits wrapping around her hip, the other extending from the rough-hewn sleeve of her robe as a befuddling sound of clicks and groans escape her throat, burrowing into the thoughts of the proud, capable leader. The sensation is cool, of ice being slowly pushed between thoughts like a frozen palisade, separating logic and reason from reflex and instinct.

Half heard whispers ease between the archer’s thoughts, yet no comfort is to be found. One word resounds between the mumbled phrases and screeching, intrusive thoughts – Obey…

The creature watches on with intent, keen to see if the brave but foolish human before it will resist, or bend so easily like the bow she uses. The hope is not to cause contortion or pain, but to slowly slip such a delicate, delicious being under control, all the easier to feed on them once compliant.

Much to Ashe's dismay, the creature seemed to show little comprehension for her words, continuing its slow and unstoppable advance as she seemed to sway so gracefully with every step, the creature perhaps a foot or so taller than her, with such strange attire, where exactly was she? To her relief, it seemed to stop a few feet away, looking back at her with those dead, chilling eyes, putting her hands almost sassily on her hips as the other extended outwards, poitning towards the archer as she felt a sudden pressure hitting her with the alien sounds of her language. Not a physical pressure, no, something much worse, it felt like a pressure on the mind, ceaseless babbling whispers that run through her head, causing her to grip the side of it and grunt.

For a woman whose body was used to the cold, her mind was ill prepared for such an attack, a chilling sensation running through her as she took a step back, gasping a little as she shook her head, trying to shake the whispers out as the creature continued to click and speak, that one word singing through her head. Obey? No... she couldn't, this was some sort of magic! She had to resist! Ashe gripped her nuckles as she growled, her mind rationalising the options as one quickly came to mind. Those that relied on magic were often weak physically, she had to stop it from casting its stange spell. With a growl, Ashe quickly rushed forwards, attempting to barge into the alien waman and stick the dagger into her chest, careful to avoid those tendrils as she hoped to strike before the magic got any more intense

The clumsy stumbling was something the Illithid had hoped to avoid, though those with an innate urge to fight were often all the more satisfying. Sharply raising her free arm, the monster extends a second palm, her light, towering frame leaning into her spell, tendrils flailing as she tries to limit the Archer’s approach. ~Do not resist, obey~

Waiting in the oppressive, heavy silence those alien eyes continue to observe, waiting to see the last ounce of resistance pour from her mind like so much grain from a split barrel. It was always a joy to behold, almost arousing as such a spirited foe lost all sense of their surroundings. Extending a warm, wet hand the Illithid slowly envelops the pale skinned woman’s jaw in an effortless grasp, wrapping each long, segmented finger around her face, tilting her head upwards to gaze into her eyes, to see if those pools of clarity and calm would reveal how under the spell she truly was. It was only now that she realised how striking the Archer was, how fine her features, how subtle her visage. She would be something to savour, something to draw to the edge of clarity and to gently, slowly push over the edge into something wild and satisfying.

As Ashe charged forwards, she saw a hand slowly reach out towards her, the strangely wet yet smooth skin holding outwards as a sudden blast ran over her mind, dazing the charging archer as she felt her body go completely heavy and numb, her arms falling to her side as her focused expression suddenly became a dazed one of confusion, her neck slowly rolling as her eyes looked more vacant, the stunning effect certainly doing its magic as the sound of metal clattering to the floor showed that Ashe was now completely unarmed.

Not that her mind was gone however, the spell had acted more like a stopper, freezing it for the moment, making her powerless to resist as the Illithid moved in closer, Ashe's senses numbing to everything outside of her imediate area, feeling that suprisingly strong hand gripped her chin, pulling her open and slightly drooling mouth up to look into her own as the crystal blue eyes of the Archer stared into the white pupils of the monster above. While vacant on the surface, it was clear that within her eyes the fiery spirit of Ashe was still burning, her determination and strong will mixing with fear and doubt as those tendrils squirmed so close to her face, worried by the increasingly hungry look on the creatures face before her. Beauty and danger combined in one alien form.. why was that combination almost strangely appealing..?

Slowly she arched her neck, her gaze orbiting the helpless archer, a calm, collected stare into her vacant mind as her thumb wrapped across her bottom lip, easing her slack jaw open, revealing her drooling features and soft, pink tongue. The lost, empty expression was so appealing, a blissful state of undoing, one perfect for manipulation with no will to resist and only the faint glow of pleasure left, dancing across the edge of thought.

Once more the voices rise in cry, bouncing across the walls of the Archer’s mind, folded between inhuman snarls and mournful cries ~You will obey, you cannot resist. You are to serve a superior being in blissful ignorance. ~

 The creature adjusts its robe with its casters hand, flattening its fabric sleeves once more, collecting itself as is steps closer, a foot firmly placed across the now dropped blade as she inhales. A long, faint hiss, just above an inaudible sound escapes from between her tendrils, slowly turning the fine features held in her grasp to the side, tilting her head to the side, still maintaining that locked gaze into the back of her mind. Convinced that she is deep within the trance the Illithid looms over the smaller frame, pressing its figure into hers, her plush, warm flesh damp with the finest layer of sweat, trailing its grip down to her neck, crossing her collarbone, watching for the faintest recollection of sensation in that drooling, dumbfounded expression.

She felt herself unable to resist, that oh so strong and delicate finger pressing at her plush pink lips, a stark contrast to the snow white skin that covered the rest of the Archer's face as her eyes stared up vacantly, her jaw dropping oh so wide as a long tendril of sticky, hot drool escaped from her mouth, mixing with the natural moisture on the Illithids hand and starting to wet the skin of the Frozen leader, her mind slowly being dazed ever further by the strong, hypnotic pull of the Illithid next to her, that alien language eroding away at her resistance as she felt those whispers and snarls grow into audible words again, ringing through her mind louder than her own thoughts as she felt a shudder travel along her spine.

"Obey...? It... it is true... I can hardly resist her... she's just moving her hands over my body and all I can do is drool weakly... maybe it is better to obey... she is such a beautiful creature... perhaps it is better to just give in?" Her mind slowly thought as she was pulled in slowly inwards, her head pushed lightly to the side as it dropped like a stone, hanging limply from her neck as the soft and supple frame of the Illithid pressed against her, the scent of the strange oil that coated her skin sinking into her mind, that soft intoxicating fragrence that made her body shudder and a soft groan escape from her lips, intesified as her hands ran over her neck, each sound from its mouth a pleasent melody in Ashe's head as her mindless groans grew in frequency, the proud archer quickly becoming yet another flesh toy for this Illithids enjoyment

With a twisting of her wrist the Illithid plunges her thumb into that gaping mouth, pressing firmly down upon her tongue, smearing the sweet-smelling oils that smother her flesh, mixing them with the viscous saliva as she pushes another suggestion into that quickly emptying head. ~Close…suck…taste~. Watching those full, plush lips close around her slender finger she feels the mounting pressure in the vacuum of your mouth, drawing the thin, sickly fluid from her finger. The sensation is like a burst of colour on the tongue, a wild, maddening medley of warm scented wax and lewd fluids.

While convinced you are fixated on the sensation, a tendril from the Illithids mandible lashes from the pack, a whip-crack like motion, latching itself to the crown of your skull, wriggling its slimy flesh through her hair, burrowing, seeking warmth, a place to latch. There is no pain, no distress, the tendril simply soothes, leaving a warm, pleasing sensation that emanates from the top of her head, slowly, achingly making a journey down to the small of her back, jostling and shoving through over sensations, demanding to be heard.

~I will learn more, I will learn what pleases you, what keeps you obedient~

Prying into her mind, the creature searches through the first taste of memories and sensation, like a flick of the tongue, sampling out the pleasure, fears and wants of such a beautiful woman. What does she want, what can be subverted to keep her pliable…

The thumb quickly finding purchase into the warm hole of Ashe's gaping mouth, the test of control is rewarded with almost instant obedience, her plump lips squishing around that long digit and sucking eagerly, feeling that mind melting oil swim down her throat, the taste overwhelming, unlike anything she had ever experienced before as she felt herself shuddering, addicted, desperate for more as her groans filled the air slowly, mixing with the slurping of the tentacles as they descended upon the rest of her helpless body

As the tendril moves down, her senses of distress are quickly nulled, more of that slick oil staining her perfectly white hair as her skulk offers little protection, the psyionic tendril coiling around her mind and getting the first real taste at her thoughts, skimming the most recent fantasies and memories from her mind. She sees her day working hard in the tribe, greeting guests and organising workers, her fascination in the strange orb she had been given, the fear of encountering her here, and the strange arousal that came from losing to such a beautifully feminine creature, bowing her knee to no man, but falling drooling to the cunt of an exotic alien woman.

As her mind was probed, Ashe's mouth continued to work, loving the taste of that thumb in her mouth as her tongue cooked around obediently, blank eyes staring submissively upwards as her thighs began to rub together slowly from a building heat between them

The second tendril snaps forward, slithering across the first to find purchase, sending another bolt of sickly, slow-flowing pleasure down the Archer’s spine. The window into her mind becomes clearer, sharper in focus as meanings become clear and pleasures are shown. With firm purpose, a hand rests upon the Archers shoulder, fingers winding their way to brush past that shocked-white hair, gracing the edge of her neck. The grasp travels downwards, edging over the skin of her arm, finding its way to the edge of her hips before snaking long, probing fingers around the curve of her full, round rear. Each inch of movement leaves a thin, glistening trail of viscous fluid, seeping its way into her skin with a burning sense of tingling pleasure and numbness.

Once more the voices call ~Bow, and know your place~ as the final tendrils search out and find their mark, a hot, flushed sensation of thoughts and feelings drawn out through the top of her skull, leaving an aching void of empty haze and a desire for pleasure. ~You desire pleasure, you desire to serve~, loud, domineering, the thought edges its way into the centre of your mind, dominating clarity, destroying will. Grasping half of that ample rear and lifting with purpose, the Illithid takes stock of your heft and weight, a curvaceous human, ripe for exploration and manipulation. Those elongated, probing fingertips continue to search, seeking the warmth between those full cheeks, sliding their oily surface downwards, keen to stimulate and confuse in equal measure.
TobiKohai - Last Thursday at 12:03 PM

If it wasn't enough for just one tendril to be happily plowing its way through her brain, another quickly followed, the oil acting like anesthetic, dulling and clouding the girls senses as she let out another groan, a spasm visibly showing across her body as another anchor upon her mind was set, gently sucking and lathering her soft, subtle brain matter in a delicious pysionic goop that only served to give her better control over Ashe's mind. The pleasure was quickly heightened as that delicate hand flowed softly over her body, brushing against her neck and down her arm, everywhere it touched that trail of oil made her skin shudder before relaxing, the final destination eventually reached as the hand ever so firmly grasped the bouncy snow mounds of her behind, hidden behind the soft blue skirt and making the dazed archer groan loudly as her lower lips let out a sticky mess in her underwear.

Still, that was be no means the end for her, in fact, it was barely the beginning, as her mind was slowly being dissolved into a soupy much, she heard the voice ring through her head again, far more powerful and commanding than anything her fragmented mind could put together as her knees buckled before her mistress, drool running down her vacant face as she felt a suction on her mind, pulling out her worries, her fears, memories and personalities, leaving behind a fuzzy emptyness that just felt so...good... The warm heat of blank submission running through her body as she could feel her nipples hardening and her lower lips becoming ever more puffy and wet, her arousal clear through the light clothing as the Illithid picked her up by her ass, Ashe's legs going limp and numb from the comand to kneel, her ass starting to feel bloated, numb and sensitive from the copious amount of oil sinking through the clothing and staining her once pure and flawless skin

Such a delicate creature was easy to lift, to pose and provoke in equal measure. Drawing the drooling, empty headed Archer in, the Illithid gently enveloped her with both arms, all the better to feed and to engulf that delicate shell of a mind. Slick with oil and arousal, the creature had no issue running a rough digit across the edge of those warm, delicate folds, sliding a gentle, exploratory touch with its elongated fingers, seeking out the warm moisture, increasing the sweetness of every thought and sensation it greedily swallowed.  Aware of the rich taste now flooding the Illithids own palate, the need to further enhance the rich, vivid visions flowing from the Archers mind took hold. Firmly, expectantly, an amethyst digit pushes its way between those folds, sliding a slick, oil-smothered finger that works its way across those quivering walls, smearing that viscous, numbing fluid over every surface it can snake its way against.

~Your pleasure tastes sweet. Do not deny our satisfaction~

Each cognitive slurp draws up louder splashes of colour and noise from your mental landscape, swirling the so often clear and methodical nature of the Archer’s mindset, folding thoughts, dreams and fears in on each other. Recollection becomes an impossibility as any desire to sort one’s thoughts are met with a creeping corruption of those memories, a cold, solid barrier of the demands placed upon the woman.

Picked up so effortlessly, Ashe's drooling face found itself pushed firmly into the bust of the creature infront of her, her saliva mixing with the slick oil of its skin as the Archer's mouth and face twitched with the constant extraction of her delectible memories, rubbing against the rough fabric of her dress as a new form of sensation started to flow over her, stemming from those hot, lower lips that were being so eagerly played with, the delicate an expert touch of the Illithid's fingers making Ashe groan, each touching stimulation, each light caress of her insides was imediatly felt as a rich, sweet sensation through those digging tendrils, laying bare all of Ashe's sweetest and most sensitive spots for her to please.

As the oil started to coat her sex as well, her lips began to quiver, relaxed and numbed by the alien fluid and just feeling all the more pleasurable to her touch, the jolts of pleasure and confusion all mixing into a lovely, empty headed bliss as more and more of her thoughts were taken away, the commands from the creature in her skull forcing her to focus on those sensations, on the lovely feeling of being fingered all so delicately, to moaning into her chest and twitching in satisfaction, not to focus on that black wall that was enclosing everything else, paths to memories, emotions, personality and reason all so hard to get too as she quivered, the poor mindless archer not even able to comprehend what she had lost...

The alien hunger buried deep within the Illithid was slowly diminishing, that inhuman, burning desire to taste those sweet and fleeting notes of feeling and thought so haphazardly mashed together in a “lesser species”. Each draw into the mind of this pitiful Archer brought insight into its hidden pleasures, the conscious now suitably devoured, leaving a void to which those buried truths and half-known desires could pool and form like mist pressed to glass.

~Reveal your desires. What still inhabits the pool of your mind.~

The words continue to shamble through the hollow space between the Archer’s eyes, punctuated by the rhythmic demands made on her sex by that squirming, invasive digit. This was not a request, and barely a question – a demand, to seek out what would tease from this shallow drooling mind the apex of sensation, a heady mixture of shame, lust and need that was so inherently delicious. Those vacant, white orbs continued to watch the scene unfold, a tangle of hair and tendril sat atop the smooth alabaster skin of a creature so at one with the simplest of sensations and needs that it was almost enviable, the finest gift she could receive, the chance to be free, subservient and unshackled from a mind it has no true use for.

With the memories, personality and thoughts of the woman once known as Ashe sucked away, the hollow shell left behind was just a quivering mass of instinct and sensation, though even those were fully controlled and manipulated by the eldrict creature molesting her mind and body, thrusting sticky digits in and out of her sopping cunt as she drooled hornily into her chest, the Snow white skin of Ashe barely concealed behind her light blue dress, and what was shown was dripping with that slick purple oil that numbed the senses and sent her mind into a pleasurable firework display of ecstasy.

Still, it wasn't her pathetic, soft, quivering frame that interested the Illithid, rather the delectable treats that were still surfacing from the soupy quagmire of her mind, the fishing pole of tentacles sifting through the muck as she was commanded to fantasise, thing back on the history of thus mortal frame and present it to her Mistress.

And so what was left of the Archer's consciousness was transported, a bleary room with faceless figures, her body naked, as they approached one after the other, formless like shadows as they caressed and suckled her breasts, squeezing the soft skin and pinching her nipples. Her neck caressed softly as lips pressed against her skin, kissing it and silencing her moans with the embrace of a tongue. Her hips grabbed firmly, lips, fingers, a hard length pushing between her folds, fucking her sensually, gently, passionately.

Then it changed again, the figures taking a more alien shape. Fingers became longer, tongues tendrils as the gently caress became hard slaps, both holes filled as her ass shook from constant spanks, cocks pounding her becoming pussies grinding against her own, her gasps of ecstasy muffled in a pair of sweet alien lips clamped firmly around her face as she was ridden like a common toy...

It was impossible to describe these graphic, deeply secret visions as degrading, as even the contempt the mauve skinned creature felt for this helpless pile of lust and carnal pleasure was more rooted in apathy than disgust. Such desires were expected, so poorly focused and based in overwhelming stimulation rather than refinement. It was all too easy to dabble with that space, to alter it to the monster’s whim to push the trembling mass pleasured flesh upwards. The shapes within the Archer’s mind remained obscured, all the more to tease confusion as to their nature and form, an entity with only the singular desire to delve and stimulate. The writhing girth within her ass begun to pulsate, expanding, stretching between drawn out pauses, tempting to distract every drawn breath and unsettle any notion of finding pace of rhythm. Slick and hot, it continued to delve, eliciting shame and satisfaction with each of its stuttering growths.

There was little respite elsewhere, the shape that had thrust itself against her face now pressing deeper, evidencing its need as it enveloped her, tangling into her blonde hair like putty, those hungry lips convulsing, devouring her as the soft, flickering object darted across her tongue, every second plunging further, delving to the back of her throat and risking to swallow her whole, the tiny spines that coated it brushing against her own smooth mouth, small jolts of tickling pleasure evoked with every lash. Her pussy fared no better, the mass of shifting flesh sprawling across her thighs to angle her hips and lift her, twisting and unsettling her as it began to rhythmically breathe, a sprawl of matted tendrils taught and bundled, squeezing their way into her, slathering across her folds and drawing hungrily at her wetness.

Watching the contorted, writhing expressions dancing upon the puppet’s face the Illithid forced its venomous words into that primal space.
~You’re welcome~

It was from this writhing fantasy of shadowy stimulation that the fragments of Ashe's mind were shattered, beaten in and pulped by phantasmagorical creatures that she could seldom perceive, only feel the strange, horrifically pleasurable effects they had on her body as every orafice was  filled and stimulated, her ass swollen and sore, mouth lashed and numb and her sex attacked by that writhing mass of squirming tentacles. It didn't take much more than that as her weak body gave in, a blistering white light washing over her mind as she came hard and without restraint, groaning and screaming loudly into the monsters that ravaged her

In the physical world, Ashe's body twitched and convulsed, those tendrils hitting sensitive nerve endings which made her barely life filled body spasm and move, her arms and legs twitching as drool ran down her face. The mess in her torn panties running thickly down her smooth pale thighs as her swollen lips clenched hard around her fingers, the explosion in the mind shown with constant twitches and spurts between her legs, her body little more than a supple puppet at this point for the Illithid's amusement

Those primal, writhing physiological responses were so degrading, so typical of such a shallow, simple creature. The sudden burst of light and stimulus tasted hot and sour, a gooey slurp of smooth release that punctuated the steady flow of focus and drive. Now it was so clear the Archer could be driven to heel, it was only a matter of considering what to do with her. Such a delicious feast shouldn’t be drained entirely and discarded, and could be sustained indefinitely if nurtured and trained correctly.

Convinced that no resistance was left inside that cranium, the Illithid slithered its tendrils from her scalp with a snap, drawing the slick appendages across her vacant eyes and slack-jawed expression and bringing them to rest with a sense of contentment. Slow, graceful steps echo across the damp stone floor as the creature stepped back, admitting its art, running its critical gaze across the now compliant shuddering mess it had created, a sense of pride and satisfaction welling over it. The only question now was what to do with the pitiful pile before it.

With a small slurp and popping noise, the tendrils withdrew from the once so thick skull of the Archer, now hollow and empty, filled with only a blissful, dumb haze of pleasure and alien thoughts, instinct and desire, only brought forth and controlled by her eternal Mistress infront of her. As the Alien creature stepped backwards, it became clear the state of degredation the archer had achieved. Her light blue dress was torn, one tit hanging out freely while the other was barely contained, rock hard nipples glistening with slick alien oil and visibly quivering with each moaning breath that escaped her mouth. Her stomach too exposed, the lightly toned archer instead looking soft and subtle, smoothed out and numbed by her Mistress as the biggest changes were even lower.

Without those strong arms or tendrils to hold her up, Ashe took her rightful place on her knees, the thigh high socks struggling to contain her plump, thick flesh, stained with dark, wet marks from the sopping cunny above. Her skirt was little more than a joke at this point, pushed so far up constantly that her bubbly round ass was clearly wiggling in the air, dark red marks and oil streaks clear from where the Illitihid had groped and spanked, a michevous trail running down to the torn panties, her swollen pussy lips even now convulsing and quivering in the air as her clit stood up hornily, her drool running down her body as excitement continued to drip down her legs like a leaky tap, what hadn't been sucked out through her ears gushing out between her legs as her blank, broken body could do only one thing, staring dumbly at the Illithid before her before shuffling the few steps and pushing her face weakly against her crotch, mindlessly licking like a good slut over the rough fabric of her dress