Ordo Xenos [Reydan and Kaybee]

Patience Vadere, Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos on mission to the outer western fringe planets, watched the meteorites flash past the viewing window of her small ship. They were in no danger, the ship's shielding protecting the small craft, and Patience watched them burn up in the atmosphere of the planet below them.

The tall blonde was almost fifty, but a life of devotion to the cause of the God Emperor had left her with the toned body of a much younger woman. Her dark body-suit, augmented by small sections of power armor, molded to her body - a perfect mixture of luscious and toned physique. She was no virgin, the strictures of the Inquisition not including celibacy, but it had been over a decade since a man had caressed her body in passion. She was too dedicated to the Emperor's work.

She turned, stepping over to the rail to see her three of her four woman team in the belly of the ship. Jonelle, the former assassin turned her acolyte, was slashing at a training hologram with her swords. Patience suppressed a sigh. The girl was too impetuous, too bold and headstrong, to know when to hold back.

Across the bay the more demure Rosamond, Sister of Battle turned bodyguard, cleaned her bolter. The white haired young woman spoke little but was a crack shot and devoted worshiper.

Finally, chained to a wall, was Henrietta. Patience's eyebrows knitted together. The girl had been branded as a heretic and her powers shackled to the Imperium since she had been captured by the Ordo Hereticus three years ago. A powerful witch, the girl was just too dangerous to unleash.

Her eyes scanned the bay, coming up short. Where was the psyker, she wondered, as the console behind her beeped. They were coming up on the ruined complex they were here to investigate.

Astarael Nocturna locked the pressure seals of her stormtrooper armor, leaving only the helmet off for the moment as she privately luxuriated in the smooth sensation of the undersuit against her skin, stretching and flexing and taking pleasure in the shifting pressures those movements created. For years now she had served the imperium, and served with every pretense of faith despite her true allegiances. One of the most capable psykers available to the inquisition, not known for raw power but rather unparalleled control of the warp, and the seeming ability to withstand chaotic taint despite year after year of service. Granted, chaos was a rarer encounter within the Ordo Xenos, but she had faced down various minions of the great enemy and despite everything, she seemed to have emerged mentally unscathed.

If only they knew where that control and ability came from...

Imperial psykers needed to be strong in order to remain themselves, for the warp was not merely the realm of chaos but in many ways it was chaos itself. A mind needed either to be strong enough to impose order on such a place, or it needed assistance from a denizen, and where some imperials managed the former, she had the latter. She served Slaanesh, and that was what had made every passing year more torturous than the last. She took all the pleasure she could get in these little things, these subtle delights and perversions that others would never consider she craved, and made use of to keep herself sane.

Of course, there was a reason for it all, a cause that was served by her actions. To turn an inquisitor, to make not just a sacrifice but a willing servant of Slaanesh out of her, an emissary of ecstasy capable of spreading her lord's pleasure to a million worlds.

A prize worth any sacrifice to be sure, and after all these years, Astarael was finally in the place to begin claiming it.

A tendril of curiosity snaked from Patience mind to hers and the psyker realized that she had taken just a little too long. she gathered up her weapons quickly, latching them to the magnetic plates on her armor meant to hold them before she trotted off towards the bridge, helmet tucked under one arm. "Time to go yet?"

'Yes' nodded the Inquisitor. 'We've made planetfall at the facility'. As she spoke the vessel descended through the clouds and down into the atmosphere of the planet itself. Rain drummed on the hood and the windows, the sky iron grey above the verdant green forest. The facility building was nestled on a hillside overlooking a vast forest and the landing space was actually on the flat roof of one of the main buildings.

As they touched down the mature blonde looked from one companion to the other, unaware that one was plotting her downfall as they spoke. 'Rosamond' she said 'you stay here with Henrietta.' She nodded to the other two, Jonelle and Astarael. 'Follow me' she said curtly, powersword in hand.

The grey roof was free from any beast or man, simply lashed by cold rain, and the Inquisitor paused. Sniffing the air like a hound. She sensed something. 'Orcs' she said in a low voice 'perhaps with something unusual about them'. Jonelle shrugged. Orcs were easy pickings for Inquisition staff. Patience was less sure of herself and her team. There was an indeterminate number of orcs below, her heightened senses told her, but for some reason her scanner was struggling to get a proper reading of the complex. She huffed in frustration, before turning to face her two companions.

'We break into three' the Inquisitor said. 'Don't go further down below the first floor. I feel that the first floor is the clearest of foes. Jonelle - you sweep the armory. Astarael - I want you to try and reach the control room. I will move through the mess hall and we will meet at the stairs down into the rest of the conflict. Always contact a team mate for back-up should any be required. But probably just caution should be enough'.

Studying the building, the blonde pointed the acolyte off in one direction. 'Jonelle' he said 'you take that route'. She turned to the Pysker. 'Keep an eye out for any beast with warp powers. We will concentrate on those first.' And with that she herself set off towards the open plan areas of the mess hall and rec rooms, her eyes scanning the seemingly empty complex for danger.

She could sense them too, beautifully simple minds, none of them attuned to the warp but all detectable within it. Rough and rambling thoughts, some in a comprehensible-if-crude low gothic, most more carnal and emotional sensations, the basest stuff of thinking.

They would do, for a start at any rate...

Astarael nodded to Patience, sliding her helmet onto her head and taking her bolt pistol in one hand, holding the door with the other as Patience opened it to step into the building. She focused, wary of running into any orks herself as she advanced. She didn't doubt she could handle a few greenskins, but she would much prefer to be able to direct them to the others instead, possibly with a little 'encouragement' along the way.

Quietly she began to plan. They were already to be divided by Patience' own will, now all that was left would be to conquer...

The orks were meandering around, some were fighting each other as the greenskins did, but most of them were moving rather aimlessly, lacking opponents to provide them a direction for their violent impulses. The chaos psyker began to touch their minds as they wandered close, taking that instinct for violence and twisting it slightly, bloodlust into carnal lust, and since the orks were by their nature exclusively male, those she touched would be on the lookout for females.

Just to make it a little more fun, she added an impression -something that the orks took as akin to a gut feeling or loose idea- that there might already be some females in the base, just to make sure the orks didn't all start packing up to go find some women elsewhere on the planet. There were other settlements here after all, though many of them were far away...

When Jonelle and Patience did eventually meet the orks, the greenskins would be on partial alert, and quite ready to exercise their new urges on them. It wouldn't make them any more dangerous since they'd still be charging straight at the women, and so many would get cut down, but if one got through, they would try to grapple, pin, and ravage rather than simply attacking, and that would -if anything- make them more dangerous at that point. After all, blades and clubs could be deflected by armor or skill, but a grasping hand needed to be evaded...

Jonelle would be in twice the danger in fact, as the orks seemed to be congregated in the armory, with several grots, a half-dozen mekboys, and a pair of nobs tinkering with various looted weapons and armor.

For the part of those orks she encountered herself, Astarael meant to sneak around them where she could and then psionically urge them to go the way she'd come. She doubted she'd run into enough of them that sister Rosamond would be overwhelmed, but they would keep the sister of battle from leaving the ship for a little while, ensuring the others would have no reinforcements but Astarael herself.

Finally, as one last finishing touch, she planted a little seed of Chaos into Henrietta's mind, the faintest touch of warp energy that would provided a catalyst for her to suffer it's perils once that power built up to a critical mass. And with Astarael around, one could be sure that any warp trickery -even so randomly induced- would likely be slaaneshi in nature...

It was Patience who encountered the Orks first. The former canteen of the complex was a mess of overturned chairs and smashed tables, a fine layer of food debris and grime caking the floor. About three or four dozen Grotz were ferreting about here, in among the ruined furniture. They seemed, to the Inquisitor, to be looking for something. Their little noses sniffed the air and their beady eyes scoured the room. They spotted her almost immediately and ran at her on masse, screaming and shouting.

What took the Inquisitor aback, even as she drew her powerblade and cleaved the first one in two as it leaped into the air at her, was how aroused the little beasts were. Each one seemed to be sporting an erection and, despite their only four-foot size, each cock bobbing and bouncing as the creatures ran and hopped around was about a foot long. Still, the Inquisitor was experienced enough to know how to deal with the trickery of the foul xenos. She dispatched over a dozen within a minute or two, their little blades and pistols no use against her armor and skill.

Still, they seemed to be backing her into a corner towards some of the surviving tables. Also the were clinging to her, trying to wrench off her armor plates or split open her body suit with sharp little fingers, and pretty soon her sword had to be discarded in favour of pulling the little things off of her and throwing them back into the pack. Alarmingly for Patience, though, this was rarely fatal and the crowd of groping hands around her got worse and worse. She reached out, not panicking but a little shaken, through the psychic link to Astarael and Jonelle.

Jonelle, however, had her own problems. The acolyte had slunk around the corners of the shadowy base to peer into the armory. In it she saw half a dozen mekboys tinkering away and a pair of big, hulking, nobs overseeing anything. Almost instantly her mentor's urge of caution went out of the window. Pulling a grenade from her belt, the former assassin sent it skidding and tumbling into the room. The explosion of plasma scoulded and killed all of the panicked little grotz and four of the mekboys. The other two died by her hands as, throwing caution to the wind, she darted into the room and dispatched them with her dual blades. The skills of an assassin never left one, and Jonelle moved fluidly as if dancing on stage, as she slit open arteries and veins with her blades.

She had little experience of fighting orks though, and whilst she had killed the majority of the xenos in the armory the two nobs were shielded by their heavy armor. Aroused by the sight of her, they reached for her with thick hands, hunger clear in their eyes. She darted and dashed, slicing and cutting, but her attacks seemed to do nothing to deter theme. They both charged and, although Jonelle was able to dodge the first one the second came crashing into her. They landed heavily, her blades knocked aside and the huge armored beast knocking the wind out of her. They twisted as they fell and the nob ended up in a sitting position against the armory wall with a groggy Jonelle straddling his lap. As the second nob struggled to his feet and the first came to his senses after the collision, Jonelle too came around to realise that a huge, throbbing, green cock was pressed up against her slender frame, resting heavily against her fabric clad stomach and sex.

Astarael moved slower than the other two, evading rather than engaging, sending nearly a dozen orks that she caught meandering the halls moving in the direction of the landing pad with the thought that they must have caught the scent of a woman, or perhaps heard some noise off in the distance. She could sense the other two beginning to worry, little tendrils of fear in their minds as they were set upon, and now more than ever it was important to make sure that -at the very least- Rosamond would be kept busy and unable to help.

As for her, well, neither of them had directly called her for help yet, and their concerns at the moment could easily just be mistaken as the general adrenaline of a firefight. She had a control room to capture after all, and if they needed help, they would tell her...

Unfortunately for Patience the gretchin were persistent and for every one she ripped off her close to a half-dozen remained while the thrown -barring a lucky strike that killed it- would get right back up and scramble after her again. They were climbing back onto her almost as quickly as she was throwing them off in fact, and while their claws and teeth were only of so much use against ceramite, it was only a matter of time before they found some sort of weakpoint in it with their scrabbling, and the little bastards were startlingly coordinated as Patience would realize that once one of them had found the locking points to her chestplate three or four of them had begun targeting that area singlemindedly, slowly pulling it off her as the pressure seals whined and hissed at the breach.

And once they got that off, well, that would just give them more places to sink their claws into and pull her armor away, though Patience would find them getting somewhat distracted by her tits at first...

Jonelle was the one in the worst position though, as orks were a good deal harder to stun and a good deal stronger, to say nothing of the fact that she wore considerably less armor than any of her compatriots. Oh sure, that was all well and good when you could dodge just about everything, but in that moment she found herself coming to straddling an orkish cock, the ork had recovered before her and by the time she was thinking about escape, he'd already locked one massive green hand about her narrow waist.

A smaller ork might have given her some time to struggle as he worked out how to get his fingers under the skin-tight fabric of Jonelle's suit to tear it away and open her up for him, but this was a Nob, and no matter how tough the thin material was supposed to be, it wasn't tough enough to withstand him. Rather than give her time to recover, the hulking ork simply lifted, placed the head of his cock against the obvious outline of her womanhood through the material, and then pushed with a roar, intending to split her suit open with nothing more than brute strength and drive himself into her in the same motion!

If the Inquisitor and her Acolyte hadn't been calling for help along psychic channels before, they were now.

Patience floundered, swamped by a wave of gretchins who pulled and scratched and tugged and wrench at her armor and bodysuit. She gasped in alarm as she heard the pressure lock give way on her chestplate and it was only years of training that gave her the presence of mind to thrust forward with her upper body. She sent four of the wretched creatures flying, her breastplate with them, and was rewarded with a sickening crunch as the ceremite landed on top of the group. At least one of the little bastards wouldn't be getting back up.

In the long term, though, it was a tactical mistake. One gretchin, a particularly persistent fiend that had climbed up onto her shoulders, had managed to dig his long nails into the fabric of her bodysuit. He tore it open with a shout of triumph, exposing her large firm breasts, and as Patience swung around to grab at him in panic she lost balance and tripped. She managed to steady herself as she fell, sinking to her knees, but as the fall dislodged the gretchin from her shoulders he managed to land a glancing blow across the back of her head. A little dazed Patience's eyes shot open when she realised she was suddenly on her knees surrounded by the beasts with her breasts exposed. Their little green eyes glinted wickedly but it was the thick cocks they were stroking that really panicked the otherwise unflappable Inquisitor.

Across the complex her acolyte was in even worse trouble. Jonelle was quickly knocked out of her daze by the savage thrust of the orc nob beneath her. She shrieked in pain as the suit tore and the thick Ork cock thrust into her unprotected sex. Built to withstand glancing impacts, the thick cock was too much for the bodysuit. It reacted as if it had been snagged on something, evaporating away in a melting sensation designed to aid its wearer to escape. Now, it acted as an impromptu lubrication for the thick cock invading her pussy. Her hands scrabbled for balance but only found that muscular chest and every wiggled escape attempt simply drove her pussy further onto the cock below and saw her ass ride up invitingly for the nob behind her.

Both women were now so dazed and distracted that their minds were fatally unguarded. If she wished, the Psyker could plant the seeds of suggestion in their minds. From above she could hear the roar of a bolter - Rosamond would not be intervening any time soon.

Astarael sat on the floor of the control room and focused her mind on the two momentarily--helpless psyches of Patience and Jonelle, twisting them in small and subtle ways. She wasn't so powerful as to be able to turn them to chaos in a single mental motion but it was here where she began their corruption and descent into pleasure worship with three small and simple changes. The first, no matter how little they wanted it, how much they hated their partner, or what form it came in, sex would always be good for them, effectively a removal of emotional barriers to pleasure. The second, an amplifier imposed on pleasure that was mingled with disgust, helplessness, and hatred, effectively conditioning them to not just take pleasure in sex but to take even greater pleasure in being taken against their will.

Third and finally, a deep craving, small to the point of pointlessness now, but it would grow with every orgasm and every encounter, willing or unwilling, slowly addicting them to the pleasures they were newly equipped to receive.

It might take a long time, and many encounters, but where Astarael had spent many years in torturous service, depriving herself of all but the bare minimum of excess she needed to keep Slaanesh' favor and her own sanity intact, she was now looking forward to the years to come...


Of course, while the psyker worked her changes the greenskins were hardly idling about. The gretchin seized the moment as Patience sunk to her knees, a few taking the opportunity to jump on her back to try and keep her down, several others grabbing at the girdle of her armor, trying to expose her holes while one enterprising gretch simply threw himself at her mouth cock first, wrapping his hands around the back of her head and thrusting wildly until her managed to push into her mouth. He wasn't considering for so much as a moment the threats of her teeth or hands but given his length and general lack of subtlety he was likely to make her gag in fairly short order as he started to ram his shaft down her throat and given the number of gretz still swarming around the hapless inquisitor it was like as not that some of them would be scrabbling at her hands, making it hard for her to use them effectively to stop him in particular.

Not to mention that even if she grabbed him, the others would have an opening to expose her other holes, leaving her rather fucked her in more ways than one with the only real reassurance being the knowledge that Astarael was diverting course to help her. Of course that help would only come once the psyker had finished editing Patience' brain (more than enough time for the gretchin to get a fair bit further than they already were) but Patience had no way of knowing that and there could be any number of orks between them anyways, meaning that any amount of time Astarael took could be excused...


Jonelle on the other hand didn't even have the reassurance that she would be rescued first out of anyone, nor the reassurance of of her captors being weak and small. The nob impaling her pussy took her legs in both hands as she writhed on top of him and pulled, forcing him as far into her as he could go, stopping only as he knocked up against her cervix, before pulling her back up and then down again, powerful thrusts attempting to batter down that barrier so that he could fit himself all the way into her. If that wasn't bad enough though, there was the other Nob behind Jonelle too, who was quickly taking his opportunity and attempting to thrust into her ass only to grind up against the curve of it instead as the other Nob's bouncing of the imperial assassin atop his length threw his aim off multiple times.

"Oi, kwitcher bouncin lemme krump this git!" The Nob finally shouted in that crude parody of low gothic favored by his kind. Orks being orks, the other Nob didn't so much as even slow down at that until the first one punched him in the face, prompting him to take his hands off Jonelle for a moment to try and retaliate and giving the first the chance to finally align himself properly and stretch the assassin's rear wide open in a single powerful thrust, two massive cocks filling her and -once the Nobs stopped trying to fight each other around her, which wouldn't take long given how their urges had been twisted- pounding in and out of her with all the savage lust the hulking greenskin brutes could muster.

'An Open Mind is like a Fortress with the Gates Unbarred and Unguarded'. So ran one of the psalm of the God Emperor drilled into every recruit, nay every citizen, from childhood. It was especially true of those like the members of the Inquisition who engaged in the endless war with the dark whispers of the Chaos Gods.

But of course none of the training and scriptures had given any advice on what to do if you were stuffed full of Ork cock or in the middle of a circle-jerk of horny gretchins. The two women were in uncharted territory indeed.

The minds of the Inquisitor and her acolyte were so open and unguarded that the whispered suggestions of the psyker found immediate and uncontested hold. The craving burrowed deep, so small as to be almost dormant, but the other two began to immediately resonate.

It worked most effectively on Jonelle, seeing as the dark-haired young acolyte was currently stuffed to the brim with Ork cock. Almost immediately a perverse shiver ran down her spine as the hulking nob behind her tried to muscle in on the action. She watched, mouth hanging open in a mixture of lust and awe, as the two Orks fought briefly, before the newcomer took a place behind her. She looked down at the muscle-bound Nob beneath her, whose throbbing xeno cock was embedded in her cunt, and despite the wave of hatred she felt for the alien she also felt the slow-burn of arousal. Every banging impact his swollen cockhead had on her cervix caused her to gasp a little more, caused her to shake her hips and plunge up and down that little bit more than before. That was, of course, before the other Ork intruded.

Jonelle felt, as if through a haze, two rough hands part her firm ass cheeks. And then a cock, thick and huge and, she guessed green, thrust into her rear in one savage stab. She howled, arching her back, her pert young breasts jutting out deliciously above the Ork beneath her. The new sensations planted in her mind caused her senses to jangle and, before she knew it, Jonelle was bouncing up and down on the two cocks.

'F...fu...fuck.....fou....foul Xenos....scum....' she panted between moans of whorish pleasure '...don't you....dare....ugh...defile...my body with....ugh...your seed', her tongue giving voice to the secret desire in her heart. The slow tendrils of corruption beginning to establish their hold.

Across the complex her Mistress and mentor had little respite either. Surrounded by the gretchin the sensations planted in her mind by the psyker saw Patience's body begin to ache with the need to be degraded and humiliated by these little creatures. She moaned, biting her lip coyly, as she felt the sharp claws finally find purchase and rip apart the lower half of her body suit. Her sex, now wet and inviting, as well as her puckered rosebud were on inviting display to the big-cocked little bastards.

She tried to twist her head as the one in front of her began to ram his cock into her mouth. It made her gag, eyes watering, but his firm grip on her hair meant she couldn't let go. Suddenly, as the gretchins clawing at her hands unbalanced her, she toppled to the floor. Looking up, surrounded by the circle of little bastards, she was suddenly struck by the overwhelming thought that it was her place to please their cocks. No...more than that...it would be her privilege. Her pleasure. Her face burned, her trained mind revolting at, and revolted by, the thought but this simply intensified the feeling as the Psyker's corrupting influence dug deep.

Patience twisted onto her back, spreading her legs to expose her sex, and leaned her head back with mouth open. The little gretchin who had been fucking her face needed no invitation - his cock was soon in her throat. But upside down, Patience could slide his cock deeper into her gullet, her throat bulging as he fucked her. Her hands reached up, of their own accord, and easily found hard cocks amongst the crowd that she began to jerk off.

'What am I doing?' the rational part of her mind screamed but, in that moment, it was drowned out by the lust-dazed part of her that simply craved to be used by these cocks and then covered in seed.

The gretchin were surprised by the turn of the inquisitor's attitude but there wasn't an ork (or possibly even a male) alive who would really want to second guess that sudden willingness to be taken. Beyond the fact that it made their desires easier to fulfill they simply didn't care that she had suddenly become acquiescent or even welcoming to their attentions, if anything it annoyed the one who'd managed to slide his cock down her throat as the pull and roll meant he had to have his cock unattended to for a handful of seconds as Patience assumed her new position of subservience, offering her holes up for them to take.

An immediate squabble ensued between her spread legs as several Gretchin all went for her at once and collided in the middle, but thankfully for Patience' newfound lusts victors quickly emerged as the two largest of the mob managed to batter the others into surrender. The defeated moved up to either side of the inquisitor, eager to let her wrap her hands around their cocks and get some pleasure from that while their larger peers took on those tight holes. The first to reach her and largest of the mob thrust into Patience' cunt a moment after her throat was filled, her wetness allowing himself to hilt his cock in a single thrust despite his size. Meanwhile, the next largest of the mob -seeing the inquisitor's other holes already taken- pushed himself up against the entrance to her asshole and began working his cock into that tightness, a work that was eased by the steadily flow of juices from her pussy leaking down to help lubricate her anal entrance as well.

One floor above, Astarael sent another pair of orks she found wandering the hallway towards Rosamond as she looked for a stairwell. She travelled leisurely, taking her time to charm and sneak around the orks rather than fighting to save her inquisitor as soon as possible. In any other situation it would have been noticeable, but the psyker could tell exactly how distracted patience was by her newfound circumstances, and frankly, even if Patience did manage to notice that it took Astarael slightly longer than it should have, it would likely be overlooked given the compromising situation the Psyker was soon to find her beloved inquisitor in. After all, even though she couldn't see an exact picture of the scene, Astarael could tell by emotion and sensation transmissions alone that Patience had managed to get herself into being fucked in every hole within barely more than a minute of her mental manipulations.


Like the Gretchin, the orks fucking Jonelle didn't even pause as her attitude quite suddenly did a 180 on them, though to be fair it was much harder to tell the difference for them. Where Patience had stopped fighting altogether, her little pet assassin had already been stuffed with ork cock by the time the mental change came, and so went from only from feeble and counterproductive struggles against the greenskins' might to lustful shaking of her own hips (that was rather indistinguishable from counterproductive struggling all things considered) and moans of pleasure as they two Nobs -scores settled- started fucking her in earnest.

The imperium had long theorized that the orks were all latent psykers whose abilities allowed their seemingly impossible use of such crude or even outright broken technology but only Jonelle was privy to a deeper truth of such ability as the orks ravaged her holes. While one might ordinarily expect any two so feral and base beings to rut as they pleased with no sense of rhythm or restraint, the two of them somehow managed to thrust in perfect unison, filling the assassin with their cocks with every thrust and then leaving her totally empty but for the heads of their shafts with every withdrawal. It created a maddening constant parade of highs and lows undercut by the constant pleasure of friction as their massive members ground against every single inch of her insides with even the smallest motions, and neither of them were making anything that could reasonably be called small motions.

"Screamy git..." The ork in Jonelle's ass grunted to his companion. "Nice'n tight tho." The other one grinned toothily back. Jonelle was tight by any human standards really, but to such massively endowed creatures as these orks she was like a vice, and the only reason they were really managing to move inside her at all was their sheer strength and the incredible lubrication supplied by her suit easing their passage and making their monstrous shafts possible. In the back of the assassin's mind, Astarael took note of that, and made a mental note of her own to 'suggest' that given the effectiveness shown in grappling them, perhaps they should all be issued undersuits of such material, that they might better escape next time...

Patience writhed on the dirty floor, her holes ravaged savagely by the mob of Gretchins surrounding her. It seemed almost relentless - whenever one of the small but fierce bastard xenos tired another two or three would fight briefly before the victor took his place. The result was that her holes were never free from xenos cock. She could feel the arousal in her sex, being thrust into again and again by a large alien dick, trickle down to moisten her rear passage, easing the access for the equally large cock that was stretching her out.

The seeds of corruption that Astarael had planted in the Inquisitor's mind bore fruit slowly but surely. The humiliation of a powerful leader of humanity being used as a cocksleeve by tiny horny aliens should have disgusted Patience. But instead the perversion of the situation only made the peaks of pleasure more astounding. She came, three times, as the Gretchins fucked her remorselessly. Each time her movements became more willing. Her hands worked harder on the shafts they held, her tongue lashed and caressed the invading shaft in her gullet, and she even began to make small thrusting motions with her hips to drive the cocks deeper into her.

Had the Psyker chosen to reach into her mind at that moment she would have found that Patience, deep down, was craving the idea of being marked as the conquest of these beasts. Of lying there as they spent their seed all over her naked body.

Across the complex, Jonelle was hanging somewhat limp - resigned, and welcoming, to her new position as Nob fucktoy. For the two massive Orks, their pricks wider and longer than any human member, were stretching her out savagely. She could only moan and gasp her way through psyker-engineered orgasm after orgasm. The oddly persistent rhythm that the Orks had built up between them played her sensitive body like a fine instrument - ironic given the meat-headed fury of most Orks - and the former assassin felt her mind go blank under wave after wave of pleasure.

Unlike Patience, who was a more complex and guarded individual, Jonelle was an open book. Her mind, now wrenched open to pleasure, was a series of invitingly fresh, white, and empty pages onto which all sorts of kinks and perversions could be transplanted.

Currently, though, she was entirely focused on the pleasure that the two Orks were pounding into her and the desperate ache her twisted mind had to feel them cum inside her.

Finally, whilst both women were unaware of this the Psyker would have heard the patter-patter of the bolter upstairs slow down. Rosamond had blasted a bloody, body-part strewn, way through the Orks that had been sent her way. Having taken the expedient step of knocking the Heretic Penitent out cold with a back-handed blow, the Sister of Battle prepared to finish off the last few that stood between her and the doorway. Astraphael would soon be presented with the opportunity to curtail the gang-bang without any suspicion landing on her, if she played her cards right.

Astarael heard the bolter fire above slowing as the steady stream of orks began to abate. In fact -the psyker realized- by this point most of the orks in the complex not wrapped up in Patience or Jonelle's newly-impressed passions had attempted to assault the roof, sent there by her own misdirections or drawn there by the sound of combat. Close to fifty full-blooded orks had died attempting to assault in ones and twos, and the roof resembled a charnel house, green ichor spattered everywhere and several dozen gently smoking ork corpses with massive bolt-shell holes blown in them littering it.

Not much time left before she would have to make sure she upkept the masquerade since Rosamond would be responding and coming after them soon then. Meaning it was time to wrap things up here.

Little more could be done to Patience' mind in the time Astarael had since even subconsciously and in the midst of a gang bang the inquisitor was resisting her initial changes and trying to introduce anything more would be to risk discovery. The changes were planted too deep for an untrained mind to push them out without assistance of course, but Patience' will was impressive, and she would require some skilled manipulation even with her new urges and weaknesses to prey on. The battle in her mind had been won by Astarael this time, but the war was far from over.

Jonelle on the other hand was practically a blank slate, an empty receptacle for orkish cock and whatever perversion Astarael could stuff into her brain, with only two things holding the slaaneshi psyker back really. For one, a drastic conversion would be too suspicious, easily noticed by the others, especially the uncorrupted members of the retinue, and for two, she only had time to make one or two changes really stick if she wanted to 'rescue' Patience well before Rosamond made her appearance. Another simple change then would be implanted in the assassin, a powerful urge to submit accompanied by arousal that would trigger in response to the urge's fulfillment. It would add pleasure to the already existing changes that made her crave to be taken against her will and used but it would be even more insidious than that, since once it had a chance to really get into her head all it would take would be a strong figure just acting threatening to make Jonelle's knees go weak and her pussy go wet at the prospect of them dominating her.

And given what was happening to the assassin right now, the more opponents there were, the greater the effect would be in time...

Her work done, Astarael retreated from Jonelle's mind, leaving her to the Nobs as they pulsed and twitched inside her before finally losing control, cocks jerking with force as their seed spurted deep inside her, then again, and again, and again... By the time they were finished, their copious loads would have swollen the assassin's womb and filled her guts before the sheer pressure inside her would have sent the thick green ork cum bubbling up around the seal their cocks formed in her holes and leaking down their massive shafts, her body unable to hold even another milliliter of orkish spunk...

Desires sated, the Nobs lifted Jonelle up with a grunt, sliding the assassin off their cocks with a lewd sucking sound when they popped free of her overstretched holes. "Das a good whore..." One of em nodded appreciatively, holding her up and admiring the thick cum flowing freely down her legs before moving to drop her carelessly to the floor, no longer interested now that his lusts had been relieved. The other one took a longer look, as though considering something more, but eventually he too shrugged and rose. No more fucking to do, and no sense fighting an unconscious girl. Besides, she was a better fuckhole than fight anyways in their minds.


Meanwhile in the cafeteria, Astarael interrupted the Gretchin before they could reach the same pleasure the Nobs had, a startled cry of 'Emperor's Mercy!' shouted from beyond the door to suggest she had peered through it's keyhole and seen what was going on before she blasted it inwards with a wave of psychic force. A bolter was dangerously overkill in a situation like this and Astarael knew she ran a risk of hurting the inquisitor if she used bullets so instead she threw out one hand, tendrils of lightning shooting from her fingertips to strike the gretchin down. "Filth! Defilers!" She screamed in anger, secretly concealing a smile at the same time as she felt mingled regret in Patience' mind at being deprived the chance to act the whore completely and have them cover her in their cum. Sure a couple of the smaller ones had spent early, one in the inquisitor's ass and another in her throat, but most of them had actually tired before they'd reached their orgasms, and had only just been working towards proper climax when she'd interrupted them.

Only when the Gretchin started running in fear did she start pulling out the bolter, relishing in the fear and twisted emotions in their primitive minds as she slaughtered them, delighting in the symphonies of ecstasy and agony as they died before running for Patience, pulling her twisted expression of glee into a familiar mask of concern and fear. "Inquisitor Vadere! Patience! Are you alright? I'm so sorry there were so many orks, I couldn't get here sooner!"

The Psyker's shout, and the mental blast that threw the Gretchin from her before the lightning struck their frail bodies, jerked Patience out of her lusty haze. Things came back into focus, like a new lens had been placed before her eyes, and suddenly her mind was jangling like a thousand discordant alarm bells. She could feel spunk in her throat, taste its acrid slime, and she hacked and spat as she pulled herself up.

She did not see the twisted pleasure on the face of the corrupted Psyker, simply taking the proffered hand and pulling herself up. She looked over her tattered armor, holes ripped and torn in the underlay and the ceramite shields lying discarded. It was embarrassing. Or, rather, it should have been embarrassing but the twisted seeds of corruption Astarael had placed in Patience's mind were already making their presence felt. She did not feel defiled...or, more accurately, she did feel defiled but the defiling didn't bother her as much as it should. Her body still hummed, coming down from the peak of pleasure, and as the Inquisitor picked up her discarded power-sword from the floor she noted with interest that a little Grot spunk landed on the blade. All it made her feel was a slight, tingling, sense of disappointment that she hadn't been coated in the Xenos cum. Shocked with herself, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She would need to purge herself later.

'Fear not Psyker' she said, curtly, not quite able to meet Astarael's eyes. 'I am unharmed. This was my mistake - I should have kept the group together'. She began to stalk through the ruined complex, leading the way towards where she feared her acolyte might be.

They came across Jonelle slumped on the floor in a pool of green cum. The girl was passed out, her pale body slick with the disgusting juice of the Xenos, but again Patience was unable to process her righteous horror as the Emperor would have willed it. Instead, alongside the hatred of the Xenos who had done this was a small but burning jealously that her Acolyte had clearly been used for pleasure in a way she herself had not.

The two nobs, who had lumbered into the room they had just left, let out a shout of joy at seeing the two new female and began to lumber towards them. Neither had bothered to tuck their throbbing cocks away, their primitive brains still driven by the Psyker's direction. The hatred over seeing her Acolyte so defiled, however, meant that before the corruption in Patience's mind could encourage her to submit, her decades of training were quicker. She span, bringing the power-sword down in an arc that slashed the arm from one of the Nobs before her bolt-pistol exploded his head as she span on her heel. The other nob collided with the Inquisitor and roared with pleasure as his hands grasped her firm breasts, only to stop when he realised he was suddenly impaled on the sword. The Inquisitor pushed him off and he dropped, stone-cold dead, to the floor.

Not speaking to the Psyker, she scooped up the Acolyte from the messy floor and carried her up to the roof where the ichor-splattered Rosamond was waiting, her carnage confirming that their mission had been accomplished.

There was no chance for a debrief until they reached the floating marketplace of the Rogue Trader Fleet Luxus, in orbit around a nearby star. Here, the Inquisitor handed out tasks. Jonelle, still a little tender from her assault, would be taken to the local medbay whilst she herself reported to the local Imperial agent to pass on news of their success. Rosamond and Astarael were free to pursue their own business, Henrietta under the control of the local Adeptus Arbites.

'Make sure you purchase some new armor for myself and Jonelle' ordered the Inquisitor, handing the Psyker a considerable credit slip widely accepted in this part of space. 'Jonelle has informed me that her bodysuit seemed to help ease the damage of her assault - perhaps you should buy those for the entire crew. As for armor for myself and Jonelle, and maybe you and Rosamond too if you see the need, I leave the choice to you.'

As they parted, Rosamond intending to visit a shrine of her order in the slums of the massive space station market, a tingling sense at the back of her mind alerted Astarael that a secretive cluster of chaos cultists could be found somewhere on the station.

If ever there was a display to remind Astarael why she feared Patience' wrath, and why she would still need to step carefully even with those corruptive influences planted within her mind, watching as she powered through them to slaughter the two hulking Nobs without so much as a flicker of submission even when one of them managed to close with her was exactly it. The inquisitor had managed to kill them both before she'd even managed to bring her bolt pistol to bear and the only consolation was the lingering burn of envy in the back of the woman's mind at the sight of Jonelle's state.

Still, she contrived her face to appear appropriately solemn at both their states while they made their way back towards the ship, bringing up the rear guard and keeping a careful watch for orks. The display of violence at Rosamond's post on the roof serving as a further reminder of why she still had much to do before she could move openly, and of how imperative it was that she begin to turn Rosamond as well lest the bolter bitch eventually catch on in her zeal...

While the others took what rest or solace they could in the quick jump towards Luxus, Astarael planned her next move in this delicate game, wondering at ways she could entrap the Sororita and break down her mental defenses.

First and foremost a distraction for Patience would be necessary, since Jonelle being in medical meant the assassin was in no condition to respond either way, and in this case, Henrietta would supply the perfect catalyst for such a disaster. The seed of chaos she'd planted into the witch's head had been put into a quiescent state by the battle-sister's blow but it was still there, steadily growing and feeding, helped along as subtly as possible by Astarael since the Psyker had no wish to see this little trick show itself too early. Now that all of them were aboard Luxus and she was in the care of the local arbites however, that swirling nexus of tainted warp energy was being allowed to grow of it's own accord, and even the tamest of rogue traders often had hedonism and excess in places.

Had it gone off earlier, it likely would only have created a wave of lust and profane desires in those close to Henrietta at the time but it had grown since, to the point where it could potentially open a portal to the warp for a few moments potentially allowing daemons through to prey on those struck by the power, creating a station-wide emergency.

In the midst of the chaos that would generate, A quiet psychic message to the chaos cultists in the station slums would tell them to take their chance and go after Rosamond as she prayed. The arbites would be unable to respond, and even if the prospect of defiling a daughter of the emperor wasn't enough, they would be doing so in a shrine, defiling it in the process as well. Astarael knew that the cult would likely be wiped out in the aftermath, or at least viciously hunted, and that the shrine would not stay defiled for too long with so many dutiful servants of the emperor around, but at the same time, it was worth the sacrifice to get a chance at planting those seeds of chaos into Rosamond's mind and possibly infect a few of the arbites as a bonus...


In the end, it was as Astarael was paying the requisition officer for multiple copies of Jonelle's undersuit in the appropriate measurements for each of them that she felt Henrietta 'go off', finally succumbing to the roiling storm of chaos inside her and releasing it's influence. Profane urges and desires seized the minds of everyone within a hundred meters as the power released in a wave, and at the centre of it all, space buckled and twisted apart, a momentary portal to the warp allowing a pair of daemonettes to slip into the materium from where they had been watching the imminent chaos from the other side... Any psyker not attuned to Slaanesh or some other power of chaos on the station would find their minds filled with discordant noise even outside the immediate area of effects, and so Astarael made a point of letting herself crumple to the ground as the power went off, quietly pretending to remove herself into unconsciousness while she surveyed Rosamond's mind, waiting for that crucial moment of weakness and subtly dampening her perceptions to make it harder for her to notice the cultists once they eventually arrived.

Meanwhile, on the station slum levels, it took a minute after 'detonation' for Astarael's whispered psychic communique to reach the cultists as they lay in wait near the entrance of the shrine, signalling them to move forwards. There were twelve of them in all, eight men and four women garbed in robes or rags entering into the emperor's holy space as quietly as they dared. As soon as Rosamond looked up they would rush her as one, bindings and ties at the ready to restrain her for their blasphemous work and fully aware that even unarmed she might be able to kill some of them before their numbers overwhelmed her. Though if she didn't look up on the other hand, she would find herself being grabbed and her wrists shackled in front of her before the cultists would lift her up and bend her over the altar...

'So, I said to her 'Listen up you jumped up little clerk, who died and made you Grand Cleric of the Emperor's Faithful in the Seventh Quadrant' just to her face like'.

'Like shit you did...'

'Yeah'

'Ahh to the Black Gate with both of you guys. I'm telling you that's how it went down. No-one should mess about with an Arbites patrol and she was...'

'Hey, HEY, what's wrong with the penitent chick?'

'....Ahhh shit....'

The psychic explosion that rippled out through the station, sending shockwaves through the minds of the psychically attuned. Over in the Admiral's control complex the Inquisitor felt her temples, the agony almost like a terrible migrane that was gone again in a flash. Her heart sank as she learned, from a panicked aide, the source of the eruption and began to run back across the vast terrain of the station.

In her cot in the medbay Jonelle smiled and rocked side to side in her sleep, her heartrate climbing and, unrevealed by the monitors, her sex moistening in anticipation.

The only one who didn't feel it was Sister Rosamond. The pious white-haired young sister was deep in prayer to the Emperor on his Golden Throne. Her rosary beads ran through her fingers, one by one, as she counted out her prayers and dedications.

'Oh merciful and terrible God-Emperor please help Jonelle find peace after the ravages of the foul xenos' she said, eyes cast up to the ceiling of the small shrine.

She didn't even hear the door crack open before it was too late. She managed to take a swipe at one of the female cultists with the small talisman of the God-Emperor on the altar, slitting her throat with the sharp base and killing her outright. But she was quickly pinned to the altar, face-first, but the others, their rough hands working over her flimsy casual garments as she struggled and swore at them.

Finally, Henrietta, her Penitent shackles and wards burst asunder by the sheer power of the psychic explosion that had shattered the Arbites station cell she now stepped out of, was confronted with a tear in the warp and whatever creature was about to step out of it.

Were Astarael to hold Tzeentch as her patron one might have expected something more subtle, a handful of daemons at most, possibly of a completely different affiliation even to suggest a different god has his hands in this little slice of insurrection. Slaanesh however was anything but subtle, and so as Henrietta stood in the chaotic wake of the warp's passage, the tear in space-time from which stepped no mere handful of daemonettes but a keeper of secrets in all their glory.

"Hello little Psyker..."

It's voice was many in one, voices of men and women layered over each other, some sounding as though they screamed in pain, others as though they moaned in the deepest most rapturous bliss imaginable. The voice alone promised so many possibilities, a infinite number of pleasures offered in every word. A long tongue coiled forth from a not-quite-human mouth as the Keeper raised its head, drinking in the moans and screams rising from around it as the still-living arbites acted on those base urges Slaanesh so eagerly encouraged in them. A few had been killed outright by the wave of psychic energy, their minds snapping under the strain, but many more had simply been overwhelmed by it, reduced to feral creatures that sought to slake their newfound desires on the nearest object to their lust.

Some found each other, men and women, men and men, women and women, all coming together, voices rising in pleasure as they took of each other's bodies freely. Some found others, those outside whose minds remained intact, those who had not been touched by the blast at all, ignorant of it's true threat until their own arbites, their protectors, the lawkeepers of the station came bounding towards them. They would run, but driven by unholy lust, the maddened arbites would catch many of them before they could get far enough...

The keeper of secrets brought it's head down, it's second pair of arms reaching in the mean time to lift Henrietta up, raising her until she dangled before its face, that inhuman tongue that had been tasting the air now moving to taste her, coiling wetly over her skin, its forked tip slithering over the curves of her breasts, teasing her nipples while another of the demon's arms brought a hand to her cunt, massaging her outer lips with all the expertise of a being that literally lived on these carnal pleasures, teasing her as it's mere presence slowly worked to warp her mind...


One cultist died, but driven by unholy zeal and eagerness to desecrate both sister and the altar the rest of them paid the woman no mind as she fell. One of the men grappled Rosamond, a hulking brute of a male who seized her arms and twisted them harshly up behind her back, forcing the idol from her fingers in the process to fall to the stone below. One of the more chaos-minded men of the group subsequently picked it up and swung it against the ground, beating it until its form distorted and eventually gave, breaking on the stone floor of the sanctuary, but Rosamond had bigger things to worry about as the men and women surrounded her.

The men were reluctant to get close to the angry sororitas' face at first for fear that she might bite but while she spat curses and invectives at them one of the women pushed down her pants and thrust her pussy against Rosamond's lips, muffling the tirade and moaning exaggeratedly with every curse that made the sister's mouth move against her womanhood, taunting her with those little pieces of pleasure she could take from her unwilling form. While she did so, the another of the women used a set of ties to bind Rosamond's wrists together, freeing up the man holding her down on the altar to move back a little, uncovering Rosamond's form for the others to reach in towards her.

Almost immediately half a dozen pairs of hands seized and wrenched at her clothing, some more sensible ones pulling down her pants and panties and wrenching the fabric to tangle her ankles in them, the more zealous ones simply grabbing at whatever cloth they could find a decent handful of and pulling, tearing her shirt and the sensible combat bra beneath to shreds in their desperation to get at the soft skin underneath. Rosamond would find callused palms against her legs and the the curve of her ass, grasping and pinching while undelicate fingers probed the lips of her womanhood. These were no pleasure princes, but they were all devoted cultists to chaos, and while their methods were brutish, none would ever say their methods were ineffectual, though it was true that they had never been put to such a test as a daughter of the emperor herself before...

Rough fingers sought out the sororita's clit, applying constant varying pressure while others teased at the lower entrances to her body, pushing but never penetrating until suddenly Rosamond would feel a cold slick liquid touch her as the cultists found the holy oils used to consecrate the shrine and elected to put them to a more perverse use. The first cock to enter her did so that way, lubricated with sacred oils and thrust into her pussy, sheathing himself deep inside her with ease thanks to the slick coating, desecrating both oil and sister in a single motion. Almost immediately he began to move inside her, building a steady pumping rhythm in her womanhood while two more similarly-greased fingers sought out her asshole and slipped inside. Behind him the other men were beginning to line up, intending to defile her one after another, over and over until every last one of them was spent.

And all the while, Astarael lurked at the edge of Rosamond's mind in her feigned unconsciousness, waiting for that slightest instant of weakness, that moment of failure where she could swoop in and set upon the battle sister the first impressions of the slut she would become...

Henrietta screamed. And screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed until the air left her lungs and her voice cracked. The psyker had not been born with the gift - she had been on the crew of a Rogue Trader, plying the edge of Tau Empire space, conducting the sort of illicit trade and diplomacy and skirmishing that the Imperium could easily disavow if convenient but also found ever-so-useful. A chance encounter with a Chaos cult on a fringe world had seen her exposed to the warp - her sensitive mind ripped open to the world beyond the veil of human knowledge and it had not taken long for her to be caught and imprisoned by the authorities.

Now, unshackled from the wards and preventatives that kept her open mind at bay, she was an empty vessel. Fresh clay to be remade at will by ready hands. She shivered as the long, sensuous, tongue rolled up her body. It seemed predestined to find her nipples, as if honing in on them, and the sensation caused her to quake in the demon's arms. She could hardly look into his...its...eyes. Too scared to see in their reflection every instance of lust and sexual activity she had conducted in her young life. Yet still they came, unbidden, as the Demon teased her moist outer lips. The rough couplings in the space ship of her youth. The illicit threesome she had had with two fire warriors. Her lustful yearning for the tomboyish ship's doctor of the Rogue Trader vessel. All came tumbling out and, as the Demon eked orgasm after orgasm from her with his skilled fingers coated in her juices she transmitted the knowledge, unknown to her, that the cult she had stumbled upon that had opened her mind was in fact a slaneeshi one. She had, already, seen into his realm.

Meanwhile, over in the slums, Rosamond squirmed against those holding her. She gasped, first at the profanity of the holy oil being used by these deviants to lubricate their passage into her virgin sex then at the act of penetration itself. First her tender sex and then her tight rear were roughly but expertly opened up to sensual assault and no matter how the Sister of Battle struggled and shifted all her protests seemed to simply allow the pleasure-minded cultists better access to her nubile form. She couldn't help but let out a moan, her cheeks instantly colouring in shame as she did, as the oiled shaft pushed deep into her sex and banged up against the entrance to her womb.

In one brief moment of triumph she managed to bite down hard on the thigh of the female cultist wildly fucking her mouth, grinning at the tangy blood that marked her triumph as the bitch yelped and shifted back. It proved a Pyrrhic victory, though, as one of the cultists behind her smacked her head against the altar stone to subdue her, sending her reeling and opening her mind to any psychic assault that might come.

'With me' commanded Patience, the Inquisitor's senses a-tingling with the demonic influence in the station, and she led a group of eight Imperial Guardsmen out of the command complex and began to jog briskly across the huge station towards where the chaotic outburst seemed to be emanating. Although too far away to be directly affected by the warp-rift opening up in the station, both Inquisitor and soldiers were, as they moved forward, slowly walking into a psychic trap. Patience, fixated on her duty, was nonetheless starting to find her pulse racing and her skin flushed as the imbeded conditioning that had seen her become such a slut for gretchin cock worked its effects on her system. Meanwhile her toned body, jogging ahead of them in her tight-fitting body suit, was starting to have an effect on the soldiers she had commandeered too.

Finally, freed from her shackles as the rift affected the power in the station, a naked Jonelle stepped, cautiously, out of the hospital building. The same jolt that had shook the station had knocked out the power in the unit and, halfway through her treatment, a slightly-sedated Jonelle had been released into the complex. She edged around the dark corridors, the staff having flooded out into the decadent sin gripping the city. Half-dazed and her nerves jangling from treatment and the effects of so much psychic energy in the area she was easy prey for anything unworldly.

Astarael cursed internally at the lack of subtlety in sending a keeper of secrets as the presence of a greater daemon would both make the true effects of this incident more difficult to keep quiet and subject Henrietta to more warp-presence than she was sure the young witch could handle. If the girl managed to retain her sanity in the face of a greater daemon then she would be an invaluable asset to the cause since her raw power was greater than Astarael's own but otherwise she would be too unpredictable, and they would need to put her down lest her survival and continued presence arouse suspicion from the imperium proper. Quietly, she sent a bolstering calm, working quickly as she could to lay mental structures intended to keep the no-longer-penitent woman sane and allow her to accept the touch of slaanesh openly. She was already wiling -for who but the most stalwart of the faithful could not be in the presence of pleasure itself- but Astarael stripped away the dogma beaten into her, the falsehoods imposed by the emperor's servants, allowing her to see and take part in the pleasure without guilt or fear.

It was quick work, rough and slapdash, but as she quickly propelled her mental senses back towards Rosamond when she felt the battle-sister's mind open in turn, Astarael hoped that she had done enough, especially as the last thing she sensed was the daemon's fingers withdrawing as it lowered the penitent witch onto its cock. Then her vision of that area was swallowed as the psychic feedback and raw warp-bending lust of the daemon began to open further tears in the fabric of reality around the station and she took refuge in the sororitas' open mind, beginning her work there in turn...

Even dazed and open-minded, Rosamond's faith was strong, and even as Astarael dove into her mind she found there was an iron core to the woman that would not break easily, and certainly not within the time she had. However, to break it was one thing, to bend it was another, and Astarael was well-versed in the practices of twisting that which would not be caved by brute force. She turned that faith, channeling it into a distorted vision of a false emperor for whom this carnal practice was the highest form of worship possible, warping memories where she could to twist prior worships into carnal celebrations. Mutual silence amongst her sisters in the chapel became gentle orgies where the warrior women writhed with each other in mutual ecstasy, using the venerated artifacts and ornaments to pleasure each other. Lone nights of meditation became masturbation, fingering herself before an altar and letting her juices drip onto its stones. Rites of cleansing where she was flogged to cleanse her of minor sins became prostrations before an altar or statue, face to a stone floor and naked ass in the air as a priest plunged himself into her rear.

For every moment affirming Rosamond's faith Astarael presented a dark and carnal mirror, a plausible lie to twist the battle sister down a darker path. No destruction, simply corruption of that zeal that already existed within her, elevating pleasure and it's pursuit to be worthy of the same fervor with which she slew xenos. These men and women were not here against her will, but rather to help her properly show her devotion. Even if they had shown up unannounced and unexpected, they were only here to help with her pleasure, right? The woman she'd bitten had pulled back, but already a man was stepping into her place, his cock bouncing before her. She could look up into his face, then up further, into the face of the emperor, the statue recessed behind the altar she was now bent double upon, and while it looked down upon her sternly, it no longer seemed to disapprove of her position. If anything, it silently asked what are you waiting for?

Astarael was thoroughly distracted with altering Rosamond's worship to something more fitting but the Guardsmen following patience needed no encouragement to follow closer, then closer, then closer still. Many of them did not even realize quite what they were doing as the waves of psychic lust emanating from the arbites building wore down their resistance, the tempting picture of the inquisitor before them only serving to justify their growing lusts, to offer an excuse for why their minds were fogged with desire and arousal. Tension rose in the squad, thick enough to cut with a knife until -without warning- it snapped, becoming too much for them to restrain themselves. "I-inquisitor Vadere... Ma'am... Me'n the boys..." The sergeant stepped up to her, unable to hold back from openly sliding his gaze over her form now, his cock stiff and bulging against his fatigues. "We uh... we're all a little tense y'see... We need... We need an outlet..." He was desperately trying to hold himself back from jumping her but if that's what it took, the rest of the squad had started to surround the inquisitor while they talked. Ten guardsmen in all, all of them with painful erections straining against their pants. The sergeant reached into his fatigues, pulling out his cock, swollen and already dripping with pre-cum. "I'm sorry ma'am but... Yer the only woman here... We can't fight like this." Around her, the others were pulling their shafts out as well, some stroking, others waiting, ready to grab her should it come to force.

And lastly, Jonelle found herself confronted by chaos. The other rifts created by the unholy union at the centre of this accident were short-lived things, torn open only to re-seal themselves quickly as natural order fought the chaos of the warp. However, even the brief time they stood open was long enough for things to slip through and as the assassin worked through the darkened corridors something stalked her. A chaos spawn, a writing thing of iridescent pinks and blues, slowly crawling towards her, many-tentacled and glistening. It was a creature of raw chaos, and with so much slaaneshi energy about, its urge was not to rip and tear, but instead to sate lusts, and it could sense the latent unholy desire in Jonelle. Around the corner it came, shambling towards her, reaching eagerly to hold her, ravage her, satisfy her...

It was as if a golden light was shinning from above. The dazed Sister of Battle, her head starting to slow down in its confused spinning, saw the leering cultist step in front of her and, as Astrael intended, the God-Emperor above him. The two seemed to merge, the twisted face of the slummer and the stern visage of the statue, blending and melding in her confused mind.

'Emperor' she whispered, transfixed, even as the man behind her continued to pound into her with his thick cock. Then, reaching out with her tongue, she guided the new cock into her gullet willingly. Her face was still flushed but now religious ecstasy was mingling with sensual pleasure in the young woman's form. Her hot little tongue, formely given over to praising the God-Emperor with words and song, now instead was put to use pleasing carnally in his name. Suddenly the oil coating her ass made sense. The fingers roughly probing her rear. She smiled, around the invading cock, as she felt her own arousal begin to trickle down onto the stone of the altar. She began to buck her hips back, softly moaning, as the psyker's infestation of her mind twisted it all into a new, seemingly holy, order. This was right. This was her place. She only hoped these holy men and women would find her worthy...

'Sargent...' the Inquisitor said but, even as she turned, the words died on her lips. The sight of his thick erection, red and swollen with supernatural lust, was something that sent all her delicate senses askew. She reached down, even as the other men surrounded her, and almost curiously pumped the man's cock with her hand. Watched as it pulsed like a thing alive. Her mouth was wet but, as she stood there, she rubbed her suit-clad thigh unconsciously together. Unable to articulate the need imprinted on her mind as a natural desire. When the man came from her soft handjob she gasped, feeling his hot spunk land on her hip. Even as the man groaned, his cock still painfully hard, she turned to look at the others.

'Of course' she said in a soft voice, reaching up to the collar of her suit. 'I do His bidding....and as any good officer I care for my men'. Slowly, more sensuously than she perhaps realised, she tugged down the zip of the bodysuit, revealing her luscious breasts and pale skin. Sinking to her knees, but not letting go of the Sergeant's cock, she looked up at him. 'Sergeant - I think you and your men should release this tension. I want you all to jerk yourselves off onto me. Treat me like a barrack room whore.' Despite the perverse lewdness of her suggestion she delivered it like an order, just like the Sergeant had been respectful of the chain of command in his declaration. She opened her mouth, tongue outstretched, invitingly.

Jonelle saw the beast come around the corner as if out of a nightmare. The thing shambled and lurched, a deeply unnatural and unsettling series of otherwordly hues. Her stomach lurched, although whether from fear or arousal it would be hard to say. She began to stumble backwards, not looking where she was going, her naked form screaming at her to rush towards the creature but those rational parts of her brain still firing telling her to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately she tripped, in the semi-dark, over a coffee table and landed on her ass, her legs spread invitingly as the creature shambled closer. Her body screamed for release even as her mind tried to revolt.

Henrietta did not exactly calm but, rather, came to her senses. Unlike the other three she could feel the presence of the Psyker in her mind and, suddenly, the realisation of this probing connection made her angry. Even as she moaned like a whore, her body warming to the touch of the demon with every passing second, her mind lashed out along the conduit Astarael had created. She was, indeed, powerful and the Sanctioned Psyker would now feel it first hand. Even as Henrietta reached out to stroke the strange face of the Demon, her eyes locking needily with it, she sent a wave of lust straight at her would-be corrupter. It was rough and ready, hardly planned out or experienced, but it did the trick. If she wasn't careful now, Astarael would find her pulse racing, her sex moistening, and her mind unable to resist the need to fuck.

The man's lips twisted in a grimace of restrained pleasure as he saw the change come over Rosamond's face, swallowing hard at the sight of one of the daughters of the emperor go from disgust to rapture and reach her tongue out to guide him past her lips. He pushed his hips forwards, fearful of trickery and a similarly toothy response at first, then an equal awe dawning on his own face as she took him willingly. His breath caught as the thrusts of the man behind her forced Rosamond's throat onto his cockhead, but he took advantage of the situation as best he could, timing his thrusts to work his cock deeper and deeper into her, admonishing her each time she gagged around his shaft by reaching over and around her to pinch her nipples roughly, hardening such that every thrust made them grind against the altar with almost painful levels of sensation.

Those thrusts would come to an end eventually of course, for the first man could not hold out forever against such a tight and welcoming hole and there were others waiting their turn behind him as well. He roared as he came, spraying his seed deep inside the battle-sister's womb as he drove his fingers to the knuckle in her ass and twisted them, panting heavily as his balls emptied themselves of seed. They were only cultists, and the taint of their seed was faint, but the warmth of it inside Rosamond would be very real, tangible proof that she had proven herself worthy of the first of them. One man alone would be a poor test indeed though, and lest she forget, she would quickly be reminded that she would need to satisfy them all lest she be proven unworthy as the second man in line stepped up where the first had left off, sliding himself into her now-welcoming womanhood with a groan and beginning to pump eagerly into her almost immediately while another man climbed onto the altar and levelled his cock with her jiggling ass, pushing himself down and into her rear at the same time, sealing her air-tight with a cock in every hole, testing her resolve and ability both with every thrust.


The tension rose again, cloying and eerie as the men watched transfixed, as though caught between pure disbelief and raw lust as the inquisitor took their sergeant's cock in her hand and began to stroke it. He gasped, pent up want urging for release as her fingers curled around his sensitive member, and in a matter of moments he lost control, staining the dark material of her bodysuit with ropes of pearly white cum. The men surrounding her were stroking themselves openly now, though none of them dared cum, each hoping to be given the same treatment as she dropped to her knees. Some of them held out enough moral fiber to know this was wrong on some level but even if their minds resisted their cocks could not help but stand at attention to her commands. Even the sergeant's manhood stirred in Patience' grip at the order, lustful miasma hanging in the station helping him return to full hardness despite having cum mere moments ago.

With Patience' order releasing them from their reluctance, the men let go, unleashing their loads at the inquisitor with grunts or growls of exertion as they pumped their cocks with single-minded fervor. In a matter of seconds she was decorated in a mess of pearly strands from her tits upwards, three of them in an arc to the front of her had managed to shoot most of their loads into her mouth but the other seven hadn't waited for her to turn and had covered her cheeks, her shoulders, her hair... Even as they came though it was only taking a matter of seconds for them to harden again, spurred on by the sight of the inquisitor debasing herself and the slaaneshi energy that pervaded the station, and thirty seconds after the first round, some of them were cumming a second time and the sergeant was reaching his third climax. "I-inquisitor..." He was gasping, eyes wide as his manhood refused to soften, staying insistently hard. "Inquisitor... Please..." It simply wasn't enough, and though they didn't know it, it would never be enough as long as slaanesh held sway here. "We... We need more..."


The spawn took her involuntary exposure as acceptance and permission on Jonelle's part and lunged towards her, tendrils coiling around her legs to keep them apart as it advanced quickly. Its nature was ever-changing and so no two limbs were the same shape but every single one of them resembled a cock of some kind, human, xeno, beast, all thick and eager to help the poor assassin reach the release she desired. A bulbous canine shaft probed the lips of her womanhood while something considerably more human looking (though a close examination would reveal it to be a Tau shaft) probed at her lips and a ridged reptilian cock teased the tight entrance of her asshole, all of them slowly easing into Jonelle while others coiled around her arms and torso, lifting her slightly and coiling over her, dozens of cocks surrounding her, grinding against her, fucking her in rapid eager thrusts...


Meanwhile, across the station, Astarael was paying a price for her meddling as her connection to Henrietta gave her the ability to see the angry reprisal coming but not the ability to do anything about it. She had left her defenses down and the empowered wave that came roaring down the link would have smashed them anyways, shattering her concentration and hurling her back into her own body. Her eyes flew open immediately, back arching as a groan left her mouth, entire body filled with burning need in the space of seconds as she scanned for the nearest being. Man, woman, animal, anything would do, for even though she'd experienced such things at the hands of her patron or their servants before, she could not resist them any more than a beach could resist the rising tide. She needed to be fucked as soon as possible or this would only get worse. Fortunately for her, she did not need to stoop to animals to satisfy the craving as the cringing keeper of the store she'd collapsed in greeted her gaze. Panting with need, Astarael rolled over, crawling towards him with half-empty eyes. "Cock... I need your cock..."


Finally in the midst of it all the keeper of secrets lowered Henrietta onto it's cock, an inhuman pillar of flesh that should not have been able to fit inside the petite psyker and yet somehow did, filling her utterly as he dragged her to the very base of his shaft, using the lust generated through her to sustain his presence in this realm as he fucked her with slow deep strokes. He would need to leave eventually, but not before he'd blessed her with his tainted seed, empowering her further and gifting her with a child of chaos to bear, though what form that would take would depend on what happened...

Henrietta could sense, through the thick fog of the psychic storm around her, the demon's intent. She braced her hands against his inhuman chest, feeling the impossible strength contained within, and her breath came in shuddering moans. The thought of his seed filling her, of the strange beast placing some part of the chaos of the universe in her body, scared and terrified her. But something in her also pulsed with a carnal need for this to happen. As he fucked in her slow, rolling, strokes she moaned and groaned, working her body to please and accomodate his titanic cock that, somehow, seemed to slot inside her with uncanny ability.

The shopkeeper eyed the groaning psyker with an uneasy glance. The young man had managed to somehow shield himself, within the store, from the psychic blast that had spread across the station. But as the pale woman crawled closer, desperate need in her eyes, the aching pain in his crotch saw him stagger upright and towards her gorgeous, and willing, body. Unfortunately for them both this proved an unlucky decision - at that moment a wave of pure warp chaos splashed across the subsector, bathing everything in an ethereal purple light for a moment or two, and the young man's body was rocked and shaken. He screamed, his muscles and bones tearing apart and reknitting in the seconds of warp chaos that surrounded them, and before her eyes the strange particles changed him dramatically. Instead of the scrawny youth a hulking monster of chaotic energy, closer in size to an Orc Nob. And, as his trousers ripped apart, her eyes were drawn to not one but two huge throbbing cocks that oozed with a purple pre-seed.

Jonelle's pale body writhed as each strange shaft and tentacle began to entwine her body, ravaging her holes and plunging deep into her body. 'No...n...no..noooo' she murmured but, as the huge members began to fuck her roughly the conditioning hidden in her mind continued to push her over the edge. Her sex was wet, even as the huge canine-style cock pushed into her pussy, and the other inhuman cocks began to tease her increasingly willing holes. 'Ahh'...'ahh'...'ahh' the young acolyte panted, around the tau cock in her mouth, beginning to get more and more into the sensation. More and more, the Acolyte was becoming a willing receptacle of chaos.

Every rough movement, every tweak of her nipples, every thrust of the cock now invading her ass, were all infused with a religious pleasure for Rosamond that had been absent until now. She smiled, her body willing and ready, as the psyker's commands ebbed into her consciousness. 'Please' she murmured, pulling her head off the cock and instead lavishing it with licks and kisses, 'please make me holy. Worship with my body. I dedicate myself to the God-Emperor'. Her sex was already full of the cultists' cum but, as they kept fucking her, her perverted mind kept begging and screaming for more and more.

Patience also let out a ragged moan, her fingers slipped inside her bodysuit and toying with her pussy, as the sheer submission of the situation around her sunk into her mind. She was a whore, like the women who serviced the guardsmen in their barracks sometimes on campaign, and she was loving it. Every shot of cum, hot and sticky, that landed on her skin burned like a pleasing fire. Her breasts, full and ripe, her slender neck, her flushed cheeks, and even her long blonde hair were coated in their essence. She swallowed their offerings, with a smile, taking the slimy liquid down into her gullet as if it was the finest wine.

When the guardsmen stopped, though, and their sergeant stuttered out his request all Patience could do was smile lewdly. 'Well....Well.....I don't think I could in good faith lead you into battle without being fully prepared' she said in a sultry voice. Standing up, she peeled off the remainder of her bodysuit. She walked, hips swaying a little, over to a nearby vent pipe. Bending over it and spreading her legs, she braced her arms on the metal surface and looked back over her shoulder at the aroused men. 'Come on then, Sergeant, lets see you exercise some discipline. One and a time and deep in my cunt please'. She ordered.

For one who had experienced so many and so much Henriette was merely a mortal, and while she was an exceptional example of such, receptive, pliable, and powerful in the best of ways, she was still only mortal. He let her take her own pleasure at first, delighting in her gasps and struggles as the little witch worked herself upon his inhuman shaft but as the minutes passed her began to tire of such and took matters into his own hands, grasping her hips and bringing his strength to bear in order to establish a rhythm more to his tastes. Up and down he dragged her, wet sucking sounds filling the air as her overstretched womanhood was filled, emptied, and filled again, over and over and over. He did not reach into her mind consciously but then again, he did not need to, the pleasure and influence alone would be enough to I still in her a permanent loyalty to the chaos that he served.


In the shopping district Astarael gasped in delight as the shopkeeper twisted before her eyes, his form warping before her very eyes. Any imperial citizen would have been horrified at the transformation alone, let alone what the man became, but between years of service to Slaanesh and the lust consuming all rational thought in her mind the corrupted psyker was delighted to see something so much more suited to pleasure. She went to her knees before him, tongue lolling from her mouth as she panted over the twin cocks jutting from between his legs, worshipping them with her hands and mouth eagerly. "Ahahn... Ahh..." She was already panting and moaning like a bitch in heat, pausing only for long enough to fumble at the zipper of her own jumpsuit, freeing her breasts to wrap around one of the two hulking shafts, marvelling at how her bust barely managed to envelop even one of those massive cocks. It had been too long since she'd cut loose, far too long, and she needed this so badly...


In the medical bay, the spawn that Jonelle cared not for corruption or submission from the woman it cradled in its many arms. They were merely a side effect of its true chaos-granted purpose, a result of the pleasure it gave her, the satisfaction it sought to instill within. The tentacles fucked her steadily, patiently, pumping into her with relentless single-minded furor, intent on ravaging her to one orgasm after another, each individual one thrusting until it could unleash it's seed inside her and withdraw for the next writhing cock-tipped limb to take it's place. One hundred different shafts, and Jonelle would feel every last one of them before the beast was done...


In the chapel, the cultist who'd been thrusting into Roasmond's mouth lost control at the sight of her pleading for their cum, "o-open your mouth." Was the only warning he managed to give before his shaft convulsed, spraying hot jism across her face, painting her in pearly white or filling her mouth with the bitter tang if jism if she'd managed to part her lips in time. Behind her, a similar fervour was taking over the man rutting her asshole as he began to pray as well, his own shaft twitching as her tight anal passage wrapped tightly around it. "Great bright one-ugh... L-lord of pleasure-!" His voice rose sharply, cutting off as his orgasm struck him and he rammed himself to the hilt in her tight rear, filling her ass with his load and setting the man postponing into her cunt off as well with the sight of his twitching shaft buried between those perfect curves of the battle-sister's rear. In the space of seconds they came one after another hour, filing her every hole with seed before pulling back to make way for the rest of the group.

Four men and one woman remained, but while two of the men took up expected positions at Rosamond's mouth and pussy, the remaining two and the woman seemed to have other ideas as the female cultist produced a thick double-dildo. She climbed up onto the altar and squatted over the battle-sister, pushing the toy that was slick with more of the desecrated holy oil into her own rear before riding it down into Rosamond's ass in turn, pinning their asses together as she presented her own mouth and pussy for the other two men, creating a perverse pyramid of writhing and bucking flesh as all five of them writhed against Rosamond and each other, all of them pushing for that final satisfaction to consecrate her with their cum.


Last of all was Patience, surrounded by Guardsmen who'd retained restraint if nothing else as they followed the cum-plastered inquisitor towards the vent. They even managed to form an orderly line behind her as she bent over and presented her dripping sex to them, still in awe of Her and what she was doing despite (or perhaps because) of what she was. As before, the sergeant was the first to step forwards, pushing into Patience' tightness in a single smooth thrust, groaning as the slick heat of her inner walls wrapped tightly around his shaft. He thrust into her, struggling to hold back as she milked him for his cum. "Ugh... Uhhn..! I-Inquisitor... So... Tight..!"

Sensitized and infused with unnatural lust by the aura pervading the station, the guardsman only managed to last a minute against Patience' cunt before ramming into her with a roar and releasing a load of cum that seemed no smaller despite being his third in little more than a handful of minutes into her womb. Fortunately for him though, there were nine other guard in the squad, and so as his cock slid free of her tightness, it was only a matter of seconds before another thick shaft replaced it and filled her needy cunt once more. One after another, they fucked her up against that dirty vent-pipe, ravaging her like the lowest of barrack-room whores. However, for all that they'd managed to hold onto their restraint thus far, they could only hold on for so long, and those at the back of the line were beginning to grow restless. Not to mention the line wasn't actually decreasing at all, since even as the sheer volume of sperm began to drip from Patience' pussy with every thrust and squelch around each fresh invading cock the guardsmen found themselves hardening again and again, re-joining the line for another round, and another, and another...

Henrietta was a mere puppet in his hands, mewling and moaning, her eyes rolled back into her skull as her tender sex was brutally assaulted by the demon. Every thrust brought new waves of pleasure with it, that crashed against the crumbling walls of her mind. She was won over for Slaanesh already, her soul and body and very essence aching to be given release. Her womb was not only open but, in this new reality, inviting and ready. She gasped, words coming slowly but surely from within her. 'Fill me Master. Make me worship you. Make me your creature and I will do your bidding in the Universe'. The little witch, swamped by pleasure, eagerly 'accepted' a bargain that in truth she had little say in.

Rosamond was reaching a peak of religious ecstasy, every hole 'sanctified' with the seed of the men assaulting her in the chapel. She moaned, fingers clutching the stone altar beneath her, and mumbled out prayer after ecstatic prayer around the cocks invading her mouth and roughly abusing her lips and throat. She purred in pleasure as the other woman connected to her with the dildo, rolling her back a little to force the woman above her more firmly onto the cultist cock invading her. Rosamond was lost in the pleasure, mind completely open to influence, and her only lingering thought a wonder about whether or not her Sororitas sisters would engage in this thrilling form of worship too...

The mutated shopkeeper was a beast of pure lust now, thrumming with a terrible perverse energy, and had little time for the horny psyker's ministrations. He groaned, roughly grabbing her hair and directing her head, as she lavished attention on his twin cocks with her mouth and breasts, but after a few moments pulled her off and shoved her forcefully face-down onto the floor of the shop. Her bodysuit's lower half came away easily, torn by mighty hands, and without further preparation the beast shoved both massive cocks downwards. Both, by chance, actually caught Astareal's tight little sphincter, opening her up with sudden overwhelming force, as the savage beast began to buck his hips wildly.

Jonelle was simply a captive to pleasure, writhing and bucking as the creature seemed intent on experimenting on her body with every possible shape, size, and form of cock. She was as mindless as the warpbeast, lost in a sea of endless pleasure, and both seemed to need rescue to extract themselves.

There was something planted in the Inquisitor's mind that made this treatment an overwhelmingly erotic and pleasing sensation. But, as the men used her roughly, dumping spurt after spurt of hot cum into her needy sex, she simply found herself unsatisfied. Despite the arousal that trickled down her legs she found herself wanting more. More humiliation. More degradation. More use as a barrack room whore.

She stood, after what seemed like an age of fucking, gently pushing the last spent guardsman from her back as she did. Turning on the group, she stood proud and authoritative despite being naked and spattered with cum. 'Men, I think you realise I'm a massive slut' she said, her tone and delivery as pure and commanding as if she was delivering a motivational speech about duty and courage. 'A whore who needs your cocks and your cum. Who revels in being your sex-starved creature. But this is beneath us' she waved a dismissive hand at the vent where they had recently been fucking. 'You will all march me into town and find a public place where you as a squad can really demonstrate how much of a whore I am'. She turned to the main man. 'Sergeant, lead the way'. Clearly she intended the men to march her, all naked, into town as if they were her honor guard or something.

One tentative little niggle that flashed across the minds of the all those psychically attuned, demon or human, was that several squads of Adeptus Astartes had reached the far end of the station. All involved had time yet but, it seemed, the inevitably cavalry had arrived.

The demon felt the Astartes approach, the dogma-addled minds of the emperor's Space Marines advancing through the streets, and with regret it realized that the party was ending just as it had truly begun. Once it's influence was gone the warp would start to settle, the incident proper would be over, though he would be leaving quite the cleanup behind even so, and as it reached out to touch Astarael's mind and through her the other members of her retinue, it realized that one way or another, a serious play had been made in the longer game. It pulsed approval at the psyker, though she would not realize it for what it was until later on, after everything and wound down and she had been 'rescued' from the mutant fucking her.

Smiling with far too many teeth, the creature sped up it's thrusts, driving itself towards climax with little care for what Henrietta went through in the process, accepting her offer of loyalty with another psychic pulse of approval and a more physical pulse as it came deep inside her, consecrating her womb to chaos with a gush of demonic seed that would flow freely from her cunt as he lifted her off his cock at last and set her to one side. Smiling, he stood, and left the same way he had arrived, briefly opening a hole into the howling chaos beyond reality and stepping through. When they found her, the Astartes would be able to determine that a perils of the warp had taken her to cause all this, but the clear violation could easily be caused of one of the many mutated and corrupted arbites in the station, and apart from the tainted seed securely sealed within her, there would be nothing to suggest that her taint had grown from this. If anything, it would seem a miracle she had merely been violated, or perhaps due punishment for her loss of control in the first place...


Astarael was in no position to twist and manipulate as the shopkeeper filled her ass to it's limit and beyond with both hulking cocks, making her squeal and whimper in both pleasure and pain at the penetration. However, with Rosamond's mind still open to her, she could reinforce what she had already planted, digging those corrupted memories of perverted worship deeper and deeper until only another psyker would ever be able to tell they had been altered. Yes her sisters would love to join in such worship, to her mind, they already did, and should she ever return to her convent, well... Astarael would just have to be there to make sure her 'memories' were proven correct... To turn an entire coven of sisters using their trust for Rosamond as a way to breach their defenses? That would be almost as good as her current twisting of Patience and her retinue, but sadly it would have to wait until she was finished here... Perhaps another time...

In fact, definitely another time, as while Astarael felt the demon leave, the mutations the shopkeeper had been suggested too wouldn't subside with his departure, and he seemed quite intent on taking his pleasure from her ass. Fortunately for her, she would have to wait until rescue found her and disposed of the 'monster' ravaging her before he would stop. Unfortunately, as he began to fuck her in earnest, making her scream under the barrage of sensation, she knew that rescue probably wouldn't take long to find her with all the noise, and try as she might, she couldn't hold back the sounds... Still, as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, Astarael took solace in the fact that she'd probably get long enough to cum a few times...


For Rosamond, the demon's departure couldn't stop the cultists, but their stamina was running out. Fucking a daughter of the emperor was no mean feat, and these were ordinary men, not close enough to the station core to get the full benefits of the lust aura. One by one, they stumbled away, balls drained and cocks beginning to go limp or -in the case of the women- legs shaking and cunts tingling from their orgasms, leaving the sister of battle on the altar, covered in sweat and every hole oozing cum that dripped onto the once-holy stone. A couple of them considered trying to kidnap her and take her with them, but Astarael would come after them if they went outside her orders, and while she might be currently indisposed, they knew better than to think that state of affairs would last...

For Jonelle, the chaos spawn would not finish by the time the astartes arrived, left behind by the warp, it would ravage her until forced to stop, instinctively shielding her as it was blown apart by the firepower of the emperor's space marines. She would survive, but it would not...


Finally, patience and the guardsmen would be at a tense stand-off. The men weren't about to watch her walk into town covered in their cum while they still hadn't had enough, but as the demon departed the urgent need to fuck began to depart. They all remembered what had happened to them, and while they now questioned it, they rationalized it too, they weren't about to confront an inquisitor after all, no matter how deviant her tastes clearly were. Let the inquisition handle her, they had just been following orders, but given everything, well... There was no reason to tell the inquisition what had gone down here right? Maybe she would come back after all...

Heck, for the moment they could still do as she asked and get a nice show too. "Of course Ma'am..." The sergeant straightened, saluting. His cock was still hard, but he had only one more load in him now, as did the others without the demonic power replenishing their stamina and seed moment to moment. He turned, and the others formed up around her, ogling openly, but not about to force her down and ravage her as they'd been a few seconds ago. The squad vox operator even had the courtesy to let them know as the Astartes signals began to come over an open channel, giving Patience the opportunity to do as she wished now that she knew her fun would have to end soon. They probably still had time for one last fuck before the space marines got this far, or she could take the time to clean up perhaps...

Henrietta could only smile, an enormous Cheshire cat grin on her face, as the Prince of Pleasure used her for his release. And his dark purpose. She no longer cared anymore. He fucked her like a rag doll, her brain ringing with his approval, and all she could do was brace against his chest and try to work herself still deeper. Her needy cunt sucked at his shaft and, when he came, she moaned aloud, eagerly accepting his embrace. Who knew what he had planted in her womb but, as he lifted the witch off his cock and placed her, unconscious, on the floor of the smashed Astartes Station. A smile was plastered over her face as his seed leaked from her abused cunt.

Rosamond sank down, as the cultists stumbled away, her back to the rough stone of the altar. She was streaked with sweat and with cum, her pale skin flushed with pleasure, and her face a mask of delight. She was exhausted, her body throbbing worse than her months of training, but also more satisfied than she had ever been in her life. She gazed up at the statue of the God Emperor, who seemed to beam down at her with praise, and smiled. Standing, shakily, she readjusted the shreds of her outfit. The warp presence was receding from her mind, but the demonic influence remained in the background, and slowly a shakey hand curled around the handle of her bolter.

The pistol blarred, twice, barking out death and two of the staggering cultists fell. Terrible red wounds in their backs formed as they dropped at the entrance to the small shrine and, as a squad of Space Marines rounded the corner, Rosamond arranged herself to look battered but triumphant. She had, she told herself, protected the shrine. Still, a small smile played around her lips.

Jonelle, as predicted, had to be rescued from the creature, shattered apart by plasma fire by the Sergeant who kicked open the hospital door. Still dressed in her tattered medical gown she was simply carried back to the medical station the Marines had set up, none of them able to sense the corruption within her as it was masked by the ichor of the warp beast that had splattered her skin.

Astarael too had to be rescued, as the hulking monster that had been the shopkeeper continued to pound her ass. He roared in triumph, hilting both throbbing organs in her ass, his muscular form pressing down onto her back and his drool landing on her shoulder blades. Every thrust was rough and staggering, a slamming impact that caused her curvaceous body to ripple in a very pleasing fashion. He sped up, rougher and rougher, until finally climaxing with a bestial howl. The twin cocks sputtered hot, corrupted, seed within the pysker's ass and, so pleased was he by this, that he didn't even hear the marine who stepped up behind him and decapitated him in one blow. His headless body slipped, lifeless, from on top of Astarael, her ass freed of his shafts with an obscene sucking noise.

Finally, as the vox-set crackled to life and the situation started to dawn on Patience and her 'retinue' began to realise that they needed to do something. 'Over here' Patience ordered, spying a municipal block house. The shattered wall, broken apart by the psychic wave, had revealed part of a shower block and, as the naked guardsmen staggered over the broken brickwork into the tiled bathroom, Patience was relieved to realise that the water pressure was still on. That was where the Space Marines, somewhat shocked, found the group. All naked, all showering. They paused, hesitant, but Patience summoned up the presence of her Inquisitorial role.

'These men were exposed to contaminated blood whilst fighting warp beasts by my side' she barked, arms folded across her impressive bare bust. 'If they don't clean off now, they may be badly exposed to corruption.' She pointed towards the epicentre of the quake. 'Now go, leave us and get to the action' she ordered.

Behind her back, as she watched the chastened squad troop off, she gripped the erect shafts of the two men nearest.

'Think your men have one more round left in them Sergeant?' she asked, raising an eyebrow at the naked squad leader 'there's an Inquisitorial ass that needs filling...'

What was interesting, to anyone able to take in the sweep of the situation, was just how willingly Rosamond and Patience had taken to lying to fellow servants of the God-Emperor. Their corruption was slowly spreading and taking hold.