Chapter 913: Machine Of Procreation

"Ohhh!?~ Slap!?~ Mmh!?~ Slap!?~ Aaah!?~"

The bed groaned beneath them. The headboard slammed against the wall. Ragnora’s cries grew louder and louder until she was practically screaming his name.

"You know what you look like right now?" Cassius asked, his voice strained. "With these massive horns and these massive udders—"

He reached around to grab her breasts, squeezing them hard.

"—you look like a cow. A big, beautiful, crimson cow. And I’m riding you."

"A cow?!" Ragnora’s voice was indignant despite her compromised position. "I am not a—"

"You absolutely are. A magnificent cow! The most beautiful cow in the world! And I’m going to milk you." He pulled on her nipples. "Milk these magnificent udders until you mooo!"

"I’m not making cow noises—"

"Make them."

"I refuse—"

He thrust deep, burying himself to the hilt, and held there. "Make. The noises. Ragnora."

A long pause. Then, very quietly, almost inaudibly:

"Moo..."

"Louder."

"Moo!"

"I can’t hear you."

"Mooooo!"

"That’s my girl." He resumed thrusting, faster now, harder. "That’s my beautiful crimson cow. Taking my cock. Getting bred. Going to have the most beautiful calf in the world!"

The degradation, the shame, the complete and utter surrender of her dignity—it should have horrified her. It should have made her push him away and demand he stop.

Instead, it was driving her wild!

Every filthy word, every degrading name, every reminder of how far she had fallen from her pedestal—it all fed something inside her that she hadn’t known existed.

A hunger. A need. A desperate craving to be exactly what he called her.

His slut. His whore. His cow....His!

In that moment, she gave herself over to him completely, losing herself in the rhythm of his thrusts and the impossible reality of what she had become.

The great Commander Ragnora, reduced to a moaning, begging mess beneath a man half her size.

And she had never been happier!

When Cassius finally filled her with another massive load of hot seed, adding to what was already inside her, Ragnora felt it everywhere.

Her womb. Her belly. Her very soul. She came with him, her body milking his cock for every drop, her cries echoing off the walls.

They collapsed together—but Cassius didn’t stay down for long.

Before Ragnora could catch her breath, he was maneuvering her again. Pushing her onto her stomach and climbing on top of her.

"Cassius?" Her voice was weak, thready. "What are you—"

"Did you think we were done?"

He positioned himself at her entrance once more, somehow already hard again.

"We’ve only just started, Commander. I told you. We’re making a baby tonight. And I’m not stopping until I’m absolutely certain it took."

Cassius was not joking. Not even slightly.

What followed was nothing short of a complete a dismantling of the mighty Commander Ragnora, piece by piece, thrust by thrust, until she was a quivering, moaning, utterly debauched creature who knew nothing but the feeling of his cock inside her.

Cassius sat back against the carved headboard, pulling her into his lap.

"Ride me, General." He ordered, his hands slapping her thick thighs. "Show me how a commander takes her prize."

"Y-Yes..." She impaled herself, groaning as she controlled the depth, her massive back muscles rippling.

"That’s it." He grunted, guiding her hips. "Do the work, Commander. Earn your baby. Ride the cock you bought like the greedy whore you are."

He would then suddenly buck his hips up, spearing her deeply, stealing her rhythm and her breath.

"But never forget who’s in charge. Never forget this is my cock, my seed. You’re just the vessel."

He then propped her against a large, polished bronze shield that served as a mirror.

"Look." He commanded, his body pressed against her back, his cock spearing her from behind. "See how your tits jiggle every time I pound into your used cunt?"

"I-I do!"

"See the shame on your face?"

"I see it!"

"That’s the face of a whore who’s been bought and paid for." He fucked her while forcing her to watch. "Come for me, you cheap bitch. Come watching yourself get ruined."

He flipped her onto her back, pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, and hooked her leg over his shoulder with the other, opening her impossibly wide. He plunged into her, the angle brutally deep.

"No muscles can help you now." He growled, his face inches from hers. "You’re pinned. Conquered. My cock owns this pussy, and there’s nothing your famous strength can do about it. Say it!"

She shook her head, tears leaking. He thrust harder, hitting her cervix.

"SAY IT."

"It’s yours!" She screamed. "My cunt is yours! Please!"

He rewarded her with a torrential release, painting her inner walls white once more.

He didn’t stop there as he then ordered her onto her hands and knees again, but this time, he didn’t just take her from behind.

He used one hand to spread her sopping labia wide, using the other to guide his cock, but not into her pussy. He rubbed the swollen head insistently against her tight, furled anus. She gasped, trying to clench shut, but she was too exhausted, too open.

"Please...not there." She whimpered, a final, pathetic shred of dignity.

"Every part of you." He stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. He spat into his hand, slicking himself, and with relentless, steady pressure, he began to push into the forbidden entrance.

The stretch was exquisite, a white-hot brand of invasion. She screamed, but he didn’t stop until he was fully seated, her body stretched obscenely around him.

"See?" He murmured, his breath coming in hot pants. "Even your ass is mine now. There’s nowhere I can’t go. Nothing of you I can’t have. You’re my complete whore, Ragnora. Every last inch."

Of course, throughout it all, the dialogue was a constant, degrading stream.

"You’re not a commander here. You’re a toy. A piece of meat for me to pound. Say it!"

"I’m...a toy..." She sobbed, the admission tearing something vital inside her.

"Look up at me." He looked down at her sucking his cock. "Look at the man whose family you’re betraying while you suck his dick. Do I taste like a married man, whore?"

She could only gag in response, tears streaming from her eyes, but she never stopped.

"Think they can hear you?" He hissed, his body slapping against her ass. "The guards outside? Do you think they wonder what sounds their general is making? Do they think it’s the grunts of training, or the screams of a slut getting thoroughly fucked!?"

And of course, after anal, when she was a trembling, sobbing mess, he gathered her in his arms, not in comfort.

But to turn her over and enter her pussy again.

"That one was just for me. This one...This one is for the baby."

And he would resume his pounding, and along with that he came inside her again.

And again...

And again...

The fourth time, he pulled out as he climaxed, painting thick, white stripes across the small of her back and the heavy curves of her ass, marking her skin with his seed.

"A reminder." He panted, using his fingers to smear it into her skin. "Even when I’m not in you, you’re covered in me."

The seventh time, he made her clean him with her mouth afterwards, the bitter, salty taste of her own mixed fluids and his essence on her tongue a final, profound degradation.

The eighth time was stuffed into her asshole and he made her push it slowly out as he watched.

By the tenth her pussy couldn’t accomodate all the semen that was being poured inside and started flowing out like a cream dispenser.

Soon. The room reeked of sex, sweat, and musk.

Ragnora’s body, a temple of disciplined strength, felt like a used, discarded thing—every muscle aching, every hole sore and stretched, her skin marked with bites, scratches, and the evidence of his release.

The fierce general was gone.

In her place was a creature of pure need, a cow who had been milked and bred until she could no longer remember her own name.

Cassius himself showed no signs of stopping.

His stamina was as terrifying as his intent. Each time she thought he was spent, he’d recover with shocking speed, his hands finding a new place to grip, his body finding a new angle to exploit, his mouth finding new, filthy truths to whisper.

He was a machine of procreation, and she was the fertile ground he was determined to sow until he was certain the crop had taken root.

The night stretched on, an endless cycle of thrusting, grunting, sobbing, and the slow, sure transformation of a warrior into a cum-dump hoping to be impregnated.