P
purrfection
Guest
Her love would cum soon. The fight was imminent. Outside their cell, she could hear the chanting of his name—a bloodthirsty crowd with a hard-on for slaughter. She had no doubt he would deliver. Her cunt ached at the thought.
Draped in heavy, intoxicatingly soft furs, Adriana sat in the Champion's lap, stroking his cock with a fervency reserved usually for religious ceremonies involving potions and serums. Her pace was measured as her elegant, sure hand slicked and slid up and down his pre-cum lathered cock, the heavy foam of his essence seeping into her hand, her soul, her very being.
Her body was tight, long, and perfect. Her breasts unimaginably full and buoyant, her face angelic, her curves shocking in their sleek perfection. Black lace and diamonds decorated her body beneath the heavy furs. Thick hair the color of midnight splayed down her back in a voluminous blanket of silken softness. If he was a God of this arena, then she was his Goddess—mated to him, forever.
She liked to pretend that his cum had corrupted her, but in reality, it was her own mind that had damned her soul—he merely made the spiral downward an erotic delight.
He was a killing machine, a raping god, and as his chosen pet, all she had to do was cheer him on and look flawless doing it.
It was a role she took to with an alacrity that startled all those who had seen the transformations of the women before her—the physical dumps that they had become, the wastes of space, the completely rotting shells of humanity when their minds were fucked completely away by his brilliantly raping cock.
He was not a god, not a sorcerer, not some magical being or another. He was an immaculate warrior, and his favorite fight happened to be against the wills of beautiful creatures such as Adriana. He would fuck these women, and fuck them, and fuck them...again and again, raping them until they didn't know their names...and then he would discard them forever.
She alone had been different. She had *thanked* him for his rape...she had begged him to do it again.
Begged to watch him do it to others. Begged to recruit women, to seduce and cajole them into arriving at his quarters, so that he might beat them bloody and then rape their half-conscious bodies into oblivion with her cheering him on every step of the way.
He did not say much, but she knew he had liked that. She knew he had liked the notion of having a partner, a co-conspirator.
And she liked *him.* His god-like body, his massive cock, his effortlessness of over-the-top violence in the arena.
She loved him, in fact...and he loved her. Their pairing was fated, and they both knew it.
Every fighter in the Arena was given a woman as a second. Someone to attend to his medical needs, someone to pray for him, someone to show off to the crowd to get them excited. No one got the crowds excited like Adriana. For as flawless a fighter as the Champion was, Adriana was as flawless a beauty. She was what he deserved. The Champion had burned through close to five hundred in his scant three years of fighting.
After Adriana, he'd kept taking more. No one in management denied him. He was the Champion. He got whatever he wanted, save for his freedom. The latest such beauty, busty and brunette, was beneath their feet, drowning in the shallow mud on the floor. Adriana shoved her tall heel on the slut's neck, forcing her to swallow more muck as she twitched and struggled. As she tortured the poor girl, her love's cock grew harder—and she stroked him more.
“What you deserve,” she moaned. “Only what you *deserve.* You'll kill them all...you'll kill them *all.*”
His orgasm was approaching. She could feel his balls tensing. Her perfectly shaped mouth slipped over his massive organ, thanking her litany of gods for the chance to taste his nectar again. She stared up at her love with emerald eyes, love pouring from her every orifice. Her own orgasm approached, building in time with his as it always did.
His excitement got her off. No wonder she loved watching him murder.
And as soon as he finished in her...he would go finish the man waiting for him in the arena, and then he would fuck her in front of a crowd of thousands over the broken corpse of his opponent.
It was a brutal, small world. But it belonged to them.
* * * * *
I like lots of wicked stuff. You can read my other threads for more details if you like. I don't know if I want to play this or not...I mostly just wanted to write and share it, as it's been haunting my mind all day. But I'd love to talk to you about it, or something this inspired in you, or anything else having to do with a gorgeous, evil woman in love with a powerful, evil man.
Thanks for reading!
Draped in heavy, intoxicatingly soft furs, Adriana sat in the Champion's lap, stroking his cock with a fervency reserved usually for religious ceremonies involving potions and serums. Her pace was measured as her elegant, sure hand slicked and slid up and down his pre-cum lathered cock, the heavy foam of his essence seeping into her hand, her soul, her very being.
Her body was tight, long, and perfect. Her breasts unimaginably full and buoyant, her face angelic, her curves shocking in their sleek perfection. Black lace and diamonds decorated her body beneath the heavy furs. Thick hair the color of midnight splayed down her back in a voluminous blanket of silken softness. If he was a God of this arena, then she was his Goddess—mated to him, forever.
She liked to pretend that his cum had corrupted her, but in reality, it was her own mind that had damned her soul—he merely made the spiral downward an erotic delight.
He was a killing machine, a raping god, and as his chosen pet, all she had to do was cheer him on and look flawless doing it.
It was a role she took to with an alacrity that startled all those who had seen the transformations of the women before her—the physical dumps that they had become, the wastes of space, the completely rotting shells of humanity when their minds were fucked completely away by his brilliantly raping cock.
He was not a god, not a sorcerer, not some magical being or another. He was an immaculate warrior, and his favorite fight happened to be against the wills of beautiful creatures such as Adriana. He would fuck these women, and fuck them, and fuck them...again and again, raping them until they didn't know their names...and then he would discard them forever.
She alone had been different. She had *thanked* him for his rape...she had begged him to do it again.
Begged to watch him do it to others. Begged to recruit women, to seduce and cajole them into arriving at his quarters, so that he might beat them bloody and then rape their half-conscious bodies into oblivion with her cheering him on every step of the way.
He did not say much, but she knew he had liked that. She knew he had liked the notion of having a partner, a co-conspirator.
And she liked *him.* His god-like body, his massive cock, his effortlessness of over-the-top violence in the arena.
She loved him, in fact...and he loved her. Their pairing was fated, and they both knew it.
Every fighter in the Arena was given a woman as a second. Someone to attend to his medical needs, someone to pray for him, someone to show off to the crowd to get them excited. No one got the crowds excited like Adriana. For as flawless a fighter as the Champion was, Adriana was as flawless a beauty. She was what he deserved. The Champion had burned through close to five hundred in his scant three years of fighting.
After Adriana, he'd kept taking more. No one in management denied him. He was the Champion. He got whatever he wanted, save for his freedom. The latest such beauty, busty and brunette, was beneath their feet, drowning in the shallow mud on the floor. Adriana shoved her tall heel on the slut's neck, forcing her to swallow more muck as she twitched and struggled. As she tortured the poor girl, her love's cock grew harder—and she stroked him more.
“What you deserve,” she moaned. “Only what you *deserve.* You'll kill them all...you'll kill them *all.*”
His orgasm was approaching. She could feel his balls tensing. Her perfectly shaped mouth slipped over his massive organ, thanking her litany of gods for the chance to taste his nectar again. She stared up at her love with emerald eyes, love pouring from her every orifice. Her own orgasm approached, building in time with his as it always did.
His excitement got her off. No wonder she loved watching him murder.
And as soon as he finished in her...he would go finish the man waiting for him in the arena, and then he would fuck her in front of a crowd of thousands over the broken corpse of his opponent.
It was a brutal, small world. But it belonged to them.
* * * * *
I like lots of wicked stuff. You can read my other threads for more details if you like. I don't know if I want to play this or not...I mostly just wanted to write and share it, as it's been haunting my mind all day. But I'd love to talk to you about it, or something this inspired in you, or anything else having to do with a gorgeous, evil woman in love with a powerful, evil man.
Thanks for reading!