Kwannon's Capture

By: CredibleHulk

folder X-men Comics › Het - Male/Female

Rating: Adult +

Chapters: 3

Views: 51

Reviews: 0

Recommended: 0

Currently Reading: 0

Category: X-men Comics › Het - Male/Female

Rating: Adult +

Chapters: 3

Views: 51

Reviews: 0

Recommended: 0

Currently Reading: 0

Disclaimer:

Obviously I don't condone violence towards anyone, especially women.

The Ruining

<html> <body> <meta charset="utf-8"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Psylocke’s brave words masks that the pain blossoms everywhere in her beautiful form—her ass still stretched, her pussy raw, dripping with Omega Red’s seed, her thighs slick with sweat and shame. Her muscles scream from overstimulation, from more than an hour of violation, from forced climax after forced climax. And she knows he won’t fall for the same trick twice. Knows his reflexes are too sharp. With a flick of her wrist—she scoops three small shards of shattered stone from the altar floor. She hurls them—fast, hard—at his face. Arkady bats them away with effortless contempt—gloved hand swatting the air like a lion dismissing gnats..  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">But that’s all she needed. One breath of distraction. One flicker of motion. ***CRACK—!***  Her body surges upward—muscles screaming, joints protesting, pussy weeping with every movement—but she rises. Her psychic energy flares out as a whip. Violet energy lashes out—crackling, serpentine—wrapping around his thick forearm, coiling tight like a live wire. She doesn’t pull him. She uses him. With a guttural roar—she yanks, using the whip as leverage, launching her battered body forward in a spinning, airborne strike—knee aimed at his temple, fingers clawed, two psychic blades reigniting with her psychic powers. First—***SLASH—!*** A blinding arc of violet energy drives into his skull–attempting to shut down his brain as fast as possible. A second blade pierces through his chest, into his heart, the psionic edge severing muscle, flooding his system.  For one glorious second—she thinks it worked. His body locks. His cold eyes widen. Smoke curls from his temple. His heart stutters. The cameras—still rolling—zoom in: his skin flaring red-hot beneath his flesh as his body fights the dual assault—physical and psychic. And then— He laughs.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Truly, you are a marvel" he laughs cruelly, coldly. The blade in his chest flickers out as he wrenches her wrist back—hard—breaking the mental link, forcing a sharp, helpless yelp from her lips as her arm twists beyond its limit, tendons screaming, shoulder socket grinding. "If I were human… you’d have killed me. But I’m not. And that… makes this better" he leans in close to her straining face. his tongue flicks out, trailing over her mouth, nose and forehead.With a brutal twist, he yanks her forward— One fluid, dominant motion—he spins her, slams her back against his chest, her bare, sweat-slicked abs, her exposed breasts, her gaping pussy now facing away from him, on display for the cameras. His arms lock around hers—a Gory Special—elbows pinning her shoulders, forearms crushing her wrists behind her head, forcing her spine into a deep, humiliating arch.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Her heeled boots dangle—kicking uselessly, only giving the hungry cameras more glimpses of her toned leg and thigh flexing, and giving Arkady the pleasure of her firm muscles rubbing on his back.  Then—his tentacles streak from his spine—coiling around her ankles, gripping tight, pulling. Up. Back. Toward her bound wrists. Her legs rise—slowly, agonizingly—bent at the knees, feet curling, until her heels nearly touch her bound hands. Her body is folded—displayed—a living pretzel of muscle, sweat, and shame. The ruined blue leotard clings to her hips, framing her bare ass—each firm, divine cheek pressed flush against his back, the cleft exposed, still slick with his cum, with her juices, with proof.  And as he stands—slow, deliberate—he feels her. Every ridge of her abs. Every flex of her thighs. Every grind of her ass against his spine as she struggles—helplessly—to escape. His skin is desensitized, yes. Nerves dulled by military experiments, by carbodium augmentation. But he feels this. The heat. The strength. The way her body clenches—even now. It excites him. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He begins to move—rocking slightly, bouncing her body on his back, making her gasp—***Hkk—! Hnn—!***—each motion stretching her further, deepening the joint lock, forcing her spine to arch, forcing her ass to grind harder against him. The cameras circle—tight on her face. Tears spill free. Breath ragged. But her eyes? Still hateful.  Look at you…  He murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction.  Bound. Bent. Broken in every way but spirit.  He bounces her again—harder—making her cry out, making her shake.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He performs-a grotesque parody of a wrestling match. With her still locked against his back—wrists crushed in the brutal Gory Special, ankles bound to her wrists by carbodium coils, showcasing her toned gluteal fold, legs, calves body folded like a devotional offering—he leans forward slightly, chest swelling, voice amplifying through the hollow temple.  **Thank the audience…**  He growls, slow, theatrical—like a ringmaster claiming his prize.  **…for making you a star.**  Then—without warning—he jumps. Not high. Not for escape. For impact. His boots—metal-plated, weighted—slam down onto the ancient stone altar with bone-jarring force. The ground shudders. Dust rains from the crumbling ceiling. The cameras wobble—lens blurring—then refocus. And he forces an agonizing scream from the bound Psylocke—  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">***GYAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!*** <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The shock rockets through her—spine, joints, every nerve alight with agony. Her body convulses—abs flexing violently, thighs spasming, ass clenching against his back as if trying to flee. The sudden drop forces her shoulders deeper into the lock, her arms screaming in their sockets, her wrists bending under pressure. Her heeled boots twitch, toes curling, one strap snapping from strain. Cum spurts from her gaping pussy—uncontrolled, involuntary—splattering down her inner thighs, pooling beneath her dangling core.  He doesn’t stop.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Again—***CRACK—!***—he jumps, lands harder. Again—***CRACK—!***—her body bounces on his back, each impact stretching her further, deepening the humiliation, forcing new cries from her raw throat. Tears fly—spraying into the air with each jolt. And still, she doesn’t beg. Just screams—***HNNK—! UGHHH—! KYAAAH—!***—her voice raw, shattered.  Arkady laughs—low, dark, pleased. He rolls his shoulders, feeling her muscles quake against him, feeling her heat, her strength, her ruin. The cameras zoom—tight on her face. Wide-eyed. Wet. Hating. And then— He does it again.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And still, she doesn’t yield. Just screams—a low, despairing wail that echoes through the temple.  You don’t get to be silent, toy!…  He growls, bouncing again—***CRACK—!***— making her head snap back, her long hair whipping across his armored vest.  The world wants a voice. A “thank you.” A confession.  He leans in, breath hot on her ear.  So scream for them. Bleed for them. And when they cheer… you’ll know—you made them happy.]  The cameras circle—tight, unrelenting. One angle: her face, streaked with tears, sweat, spit, the faintest trace of the Hand Ninja’s cum still crusted at the corner of her lip. Another: her body, folded, splayed, on display—the ruined blue leotard flapping at her hips, her ass cheeks pressed against Arkady’s back, clenching with every jolt, her pussy dripping, gaping, cum oozing in thick, white pulses.  Arkady feels it—the tremor in her muscles, the way her body is beginning to fail. Not from pain. Not from weakness. From overload. Her nervous system is firing in every direction—pain, fatigue, residual arousal, hatred—and he knows what comes next.  Kwannon’s breath hitches—***hah… nnnnggghhhah… hah…***—her body overwhelmed with pain. She tried to mouth words, but can’t, the sheer amount of sensation is overwhelming her. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He feels it—the moment she tries to speak. And that’s when he decides— to play with his food. She doesn’t get to make a grand heroic statement, or even give up-not this early. He does the one thing she doesn’t expect. He *loosens* his grip. The brutal Gory Special lock—relaxes. Just enough. Her wrists slip. Her arms drop. Her body begins to slide—slow, sensual, agonizing—down the length of his back. Her sweat-slicked abs glide over his carbodium-reinforced spine. Her toned thighs tremble as they lose purchase. And her *ass*—firm, divine, still glowing red from punishment—rubs against him in one long, obscenely intimate motion, every ridge of muscle, every clench of cheek, dragging across his skin like a final offering.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He drinks it in. The heat. The friction. The sound—a soft, wet thing as her body slides free, her long hair trailing behind, her heeled boots dangling, one strap broken, swinging slightly. Gravity should take her. Should make her crumple. Should end the spectacle. But Arkady isn’t done. At the last possible second—just as her toned form is about to roll off his body— ***VVVRRRT—!*** The carbodium tentacles strike. One—thick, veined—wraps around her throat. Another coils around her waist, pressing into her abs, keeping her level. Two more snake around her thighs—just above the knees—spreading them slightly, displaying. The final one curls under her back, supporting her spine, suspending her horizontally in midair, just inches above the cold, bloodstained stone. She floats—naked below her iconic red sash, the only thing lettingher ruined blue leotard clinging to her hips.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Arkady turns—slow, deliberate—facing her, hands on his hips, a predator admiring his prey. Her body hangs suspended—horizontal, exposed, *owned*—by the cold embrace of his carbodium tentacles. She gathers what little moisture remains in her mouth—her tongue flicking weakly, muscles spent—and with a final act of rebellion, *spits*. A thin, trembling arc of spit and blood lands across his cheek. Not much. But a challenge. A no.  Arkady doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t wipe it away. He lets it linger. The droplet trails slowly down his face, cutting through the grime, the sweat, the dust of battle. His cold blue eyes lock onto hers—unblinking. Unmoved. And then…  he leans in. Slow. Deliberate. His lips meet hers—hard, yet strangely tender.His mouth moves over hers with dominance, but also care—his hand rising to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her long, sweat-drenched hair, holding her in place. The kiss deepens—his tongue pressing past her cracked lips, tasting the salt of her exhaustion, the iron of her blood, the bitter residue of her defiance. She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t kiss back. Her body remains rigid—suspended, helpless—but her mind screams. And then— He pulls back. Just enough to speak.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“You know…”  He murmurs, voice low, clinical, certain—his lips still close enough to brush hers with every word.  “…you really should listen to me. Thank the audience. Smile. Make it easy.”  A pause. A smirk. “But this way? Is MUCH more fun.”   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Before she can process the shift—the cruel tenderness, the unbearable intimacy—he surges forward again, reclaiming her mouth with force. His kiss is no longer restrained and measured. His tongue drives deep—past her teeth, wrestling against her tongue,  *fucking* her mouth with the same ruthless rhythm he used on her pussy. She gasps—***Mmph!***—and he takes more of her, swallowing her breath, dominating her air, his hand tightening in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to deepen the angle. Her body hangs—motionless, suspended—forced to feel every lick of mocking intimacy. A soft, shameful shiver runs down her spine—hor ravaged body interpreting his french kiss as something approaching gentleness. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Arkady feels it. The hesitation. The weakness. And he grinds his thigh up slightly—just enough—pressing against her dangling core, letting her feel the heat, the pressure, the reminder of what he’s done to her, what he’ll do again. Her breath hitches in her throat—trapped between kiss and choke.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">After a slow, sensual minute, He breaks the kiss—slow, reluctant—, making sure the camera catches the trail of saliva from her mouth to his, and exhales against her swollen lips, voice a dark whisper.  “You’ll thank them before this ends.”<span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He pulls back —just enough to savor the moment —and sweeps his arm across the chamber like a maestro unveiling a masterpiece.  “But first…”  His voice drops—theatrical, commanding.  “…we must give them a show!”  At his silent command, the carbodium tentacles shift—coiling, rotating—with deliberate, ceremonial grace. Kwannon’s suspended body turns, slowly, agonizingly, until she faces away from him once more. Her long hair a teasing curtain giving him glimpses of her still firm glutes, her lean, muscled back, as the coils adjust, holding her perfectly horizontal, her chest trying to brace for whatever horror awaits her next. The cameras respond—all focused on her. On her sweat-slicked back. Her quivering shoulders. The divine curve of her ass—still red from punishment, each cheek *clenching* as she still struggles to resist, her gluteal crease still impossibly tight and firm.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And below… His cock. Monstrous. *Engorged*. Veined in thick, pulsing ridges, the crown swollen, glistening with precum and the blood from earlier depredations. It rises from his combat pants hard and hungry—and presses leeringly against the still tight, tender ring of her asshole. A slow, filthy grind—up and down, the thick head spreading her cheeks slightly, the sensitive nerve-rich tip tracing her most forbidden entrance, making her tremble. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t scream. Just whimpers—***Hnnn… ghh…***—a sound so soft  it barely escapes her throat. Her breath comes in shallow, panicked hitches.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Arkady leans in—close to her ear, voice a dark purr.  Look at you. So strong. So proud. Your body still tight and firm in defiance-he gives her ass cheeks an appreciative slap, loving how they only jiggle a little bit, a sliver of fat above incredible muscle.   He grinds harder—just once—making her gasp, making her spasm.  “They want to see you take it. Want to see you stretch. Want to see you scream as I split you open… for them. Because you refuse to thank them.” The cameras close in—tight on the point of contact. The way his cock presses, the way her ass clenches, the way a single bead of precum oozes into the crack, slicking her skin. One lens focuses on her face—tears spilling silently, lips parted, her violet eyes wide and terrified. Another captures the full view—her suspended body, the coils, the sweat, the anticipation. And Arkady?  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He doesn’t rush it-you cannot rush art, after all. And this? This is truly Arkady’s sadistic masterpiece. With agonizing slowness, he presses forward—just an inch. Just the tip. His cock—thick, veined, monstrous—parts the tight, tender ring of her asshole, breaching her with a wet, obscene *shhhk*. Her body clenches—immediate, violent. Her abs snap taut. Her thighs tremble. Her fists clench in midair. A low, guttural ***Nnnnghhh—!*** vibrates in her throat, her head arching back, her long hair framing the assault. The cameras zoom—tight on her face, the tears, the clenched jaw, the way her lips part in silent agony. Tight on the penetration—her pink muscle stretched thin around the broad crown, the flesh quivering, straining.  He holds it there. Just the tip. Letting her feel it. Letting her know what’s coming.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The carbodium tentacles, still wrapped around her throat, waist, legs-all suddenly let go. Her. Her body now suspended only by gravity, and she begins to sink. Slow. Inevitable.. Her light, toned fighter’s frame—built for speed, for precision, for assassination—now doomed by its own grace and strength. She has no leverage. No strength left to resist. No way to stop the descent. Inch by inch, her body sink—down onto his cock. Her asshole stretches wider—***RRRIP—!***—the thick shaft forcing its way in, splitting her open with every millimeter. Her mouth opens—  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">***KYYYYAAAGHHH—NOOOoOOOoOOAaaaaUuuUuhhggg!!!***—a scream so raw, it echoes off the stone like a war cry turned to ash.  Arkady  stands there letting her body sink onto his massive meat, her heat clamping down, her ass clenching around his cock like a fist. He tilts his head back—eyes closed, lips parted—savoring.  Until—***thud***—her body stops. Fully impaled. His cock buried to the hilt in her rectum, her ass flush against his hips, her body trembling, ruined, overwhelmed. And still… Her eyes remain open. Wide. *Hating*.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Only now doeshe speak. Slow. Theatrical. Each word a hammer. Each pause a torment.  “Or…”  He pulls back—just an inch. Just enough to make her whimper—***Nngh—!***—her abs convulsing, her throat working—then slams forward again, grinding deep, making her scream—***NNNNNNGGKYAAAH—!***—her head snapping back, her long hair whipping around as her head shakes.  “…you could…”  Another pull. Another brutal thrust—deeper, harder. Her body jolts, her bound wrists twitching in midair, her heeled boot kicking once, uselessly. “...just…”  ***THK—!*** A third thrust—savage, precise. Her pussy spurts—uncontrolled—cum and arousal leaking in thick pulses, dripping down her inner thighs. Her eyes roll—wide and wet.  “…thank…”  ***THK—!*** Her spine arches violently. A tear bursts free. Her lips part—***Hhhk—!***—but she refuses to speak.  “…the…”  ***THK—!***—a fourth. A fifth. Faster now. Deeper. Relentless. The sound of flesh on flesh—***schlck, schlck, schlck***—echoes through the temple, mixing with her choked cries, the hum of the cameras.  “…viewers.” He leans in—close to her ear, voice a dark, intimate growl.  “Would you like that?” ***THK—!***—a brutal upward thrust, grinding the thick crown of his cock against her most sensitive inner walls, making her body spasm.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">ALL.  ***THK—!***—her head snaps back.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">THIS.  ***THK—!***—her abs clench, her thighs tremble.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">PAIN.  ***THK—!***—a deeper grind, her ass pleading even as her mind rages.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">TO.  ***THK—!***—her mouth opens—***Ghhkk—!***—spit trailing from her lips.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">STOP!!  Arkady wasn’t sure, but he think she might have heard a muffled sob from Psylocke with that last thrust into her. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t expect an answer. Because the answer is no. It will always be no. And that’s what makes it beautiful. He begins to pound. Controlled. Each thrust a rearranging her insides-her skin visibly bulging against his ravaging. Her body—suspended, impaled, exposed—bounces slightly with every movement, her breasts swaying, her long hair dragging, her cum dripping, her screams recorded for all the world to hear. And Arkady—Omega Red—smiles as Psylocke begins to speak.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“You think… doing this… to a woman… means you own her?”  Her voice is a defiance carved from steel.  You’re a shame to mutantkind…  Her abs clench as he pulls back, the thick crown of his cock nearly free from her ravaged ass, the stretched ring quivering, weeping.<span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“You’re pathetic… just another… monster…   You think *fuck—*  She stutters. As if saying the word as she is being brutally ass fucked would perversely hndermine her retort-.Not from fear. From *shame*. From the grotesque truth—”fucking me makes youaaaaaaaaauuuuuuhjhh!” <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Arkady has predicted this. And so he has three of his carbodium tentacles coil together midair, their tips fusing, reshaping, forming a new horror: a thick, veined, artificial cock—longer than a hand, ridged, pulsing with stored energy.  Just for violation, for taking away her moment. And as she tries to finish her cry of defiance, he kills it on her lips.  he drives it forward. ***SLCHHHK—!*** It *rams* into her pussy—the pain only mildly lessened by the cum of her precious rape—punching past her swollen lips, past her clenched inner walls, impaling her with cold, mechanical force. Her body locks—spine arching, boots kicking, fingers clawing* at nothing. Her scream—***fucking me makes youaaaaaaaaauuuuuuhjhh!” GO FUCK YOURSEAAAAAAAAUUUUGHHHHHH—!!!***—tears from her throat,  echoing through the temple like the death cry of a warrior queen. The dual penetration is total. His cock—still buried in her ass—grinds deep as the artificial shaft pumps in and out of her pussy, stretching her beyond natural limits, the metal surface shocking her in slow, rolling pulses, triggering involuntary spasms, forced contractions. Her clit swells from overstimulation. Her pussy desperately trying to respond to the unpredictable rotations. And the cameras? They worship it. Close on her face—tears streaming across her majestic face, full lips unable to do anything but scream in horror and pain. Close on her body—split in two, owned in two, conquered in two. And Arkady? He leans in—close to her ear—voice calm, nonchalant.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well? Do you have anything to say now? “ He doesn’t expect an answer. And she gives none, Psylocke’s struggle to resist amidst the deep penetration. Arkady’s massive hands —are too broad, too brutal for the finer arts of torment. So he lets them wander. Slow. Perversely leisurely. One palm drags across her sweat-slicked abs, fingers pressing into the tight ridges, feeling them twitch beneath his touch. The other cups her shoulder, then trails down the length of her arm—over bicep, elbow, wrist—before gripping them in appreciation He’s not hurting her with his hands-his cocks are doing enough of that.    <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And the real delicate work? He leaves that to his children.  The carbodium tentacles—three still fused as the monstrous dildo in her pussy, but others—slender, whip-thin, precise—slither forward from his spine. One peels away, splitting into two fine filaments—needle-tipped, humming with micro-pulses—that coil around her nipples, Twisting. Slow. Circular. Relentless. Her areolas tighten, her back arches, her breath hitches—***Hnn—!***—as the filaments rotate,  sending jolts of forced sensation straight to her core. Another tendril—slick, tapered—slips into her armpit, pressing deep into the soft, sensitive skin, digging, probing,  confusing her body with a modicum of pleasure amidst the nightmare of pain. A fourth wraps around her inner thigh—just above the knee—squeezing in a slow, pulsing rhythm, mimicking fingers, mimicking caresses, mimicking rape. And then— The one at her clit. A thin, coiled wire, no thicker than a strand of hair, curls around the swollen bud—twirling, circling, vibrating with low-frequency shocks. Not enough to make her come. Enough to make her squirm.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Her body *twitches*—unable to escape, unable to resist. Her pussy floods—old cum and her own slick squirting around the black carbodium shaft buried inside her, dripping down its length, pooling beneath her. Her ass clenches around Arkady’s cock, milking him involuntarily. Her voice is only moans now—***Hnnn… ghh… khh…*** Arkady’s hands still roaming—over her neck, her ribs, the curve of her ass and hip—as if memorizing her. And in the silence between her gasps, he speaks—voice low, almost loving. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The cameras zoom—tight on her face, the way her eyelids twitch, the tear that slips free, the subtle clench of her jaw as she fights not to react. “ I’m supposed to turn you over…” He whispers, voice a velvet blade.  “…to my employer.” A pause. His hand slides up her trembling abs, fingers spreading wide, possessive.  “But you are such a sweet toy… I think… I’ll keep you.” Then—the  rhythm of his two cocks shifts. No longer the slow, grinding thrust. No longer the steady, sadistic pace. Now—alternating. One moment—SLAM—! His monstrous cock drives deep into her ass—to the hilt, stretching her, splitting her—while the carbodium dildo retracts from her pussy, sliding out inch by slick inch until only the tip remains, teasing, taunting. Her body jolts, her bound hands twitching, her heeled boot kicking once—***khh!***—her voice a shattered gasp. Then—***PULL—THRUST—!*** His cock withdraws—nearly all the way, just the thick crown still buried in her clenching rim—while the, veined carbodium shaft rams back into her pussy—deep, brutal, punching into her fertile womb with mechanical precision. Her mouth opening in a wide scream—***Kyyyyaaaaaaaggghhhhh—!***—as the dual violation flips inside, over and over. Her body becomes a puppet—jerked between two impossible fullnesses, her nerves overloaded, her muscles spasming. The thin filament still curls around her clit—twirling, shocking—making her flood with each inward plunge. The filaments on her nipples twist harder. The one in her armpit digs deeper. She can’t think. Her breath comes in gasps that sound too much like moans. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">After a few minutes of this brutal assault, the rhythm shifts—again. Now—unison. With a guttural roar from Arkady, the two phallic horrors—his flesh-cock buried in her ass, the carbodium dildo impaled in her pussy—pull back together. ***Slllllchhhk—*** Slow. Sadistic. His cock drags from her rectum—inch by thick inch—the veined shaft glistening with her slick, with blood, with proof of conquest—while the black metal shaft retreats from her womb, leaving her gaping, empty and trembling. Her body shudders—a whimper escapes—***Nnghhh… hhhk…***—almost pleading. And then— ***SLAM—SLAM—!*** Both ram forward at once. His cock plunges deep into her ass—to the root, the thick crown grinding against overstimulated tissue, making her body buck violently. The carbodium shaft spears back into her pussy—harder, deeper, punching past her cervix with mechanical force, flooding her womb with cold, inhuman fullness. ***KYAAAAAAGHHHH—!!!*** The scream is primal—Her head thrashes, her long hair hiding the tears flying out of her eyes, her heeled boots *kicking* helplessly, one finally snapping free, clattering to the floor. Arkady groans— deep, ecstatic. His hands roam—over her ribs, her hips, the sweat-slick curve of her spine—as he continues to pound <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">In perfect sync—both shafts retreating, both slamming home, over and over, the sound of flesh and metal slamming into her echoing through the temple: ***THK—THK—THK—!*** Each thrust forces a new erotic noise from her: ***Uhhhhnnn—!*** ***Gkk—khh—!*** ***NNOO—KYYYY—!*** The cameras love it—tight on her face, the tears, the spit, the despair and horror. The filament on her clit vibrates harder, the filaments on her nipples twist, the one in her armpit presses—every nerve alight, every muscle betraying her. She’s not coming. Not yet. But she’s close. And Arkady knows it. He leans in—close to her ear—voice a dark, possessive growl.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“All you have to do…”  He growls—low, intimate, the words vibrating against the shell of her ear as his hips roll forward.  “…is thank the audience.” And then—he changes the rhythm again. No longer just thrusting. No longer just splitting her. Now—rotations. His cock, buried deep in her ass, doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rotates deeply—his hips twisting in a slow, brutal circle, the thick crown of his shaft mashing against the most sensitive inner walls of her rectum, stretching her in new, unbearable ways. The veined ridges drag across overstimulated tissue, sending jagged bolts up her spine, making her abs clench in reflexive, useless resistance. At the same time, the carbodium dildo inside her pussy spins—not just thrusting, but coiling, the black shaft rotating clockwise, then counterclockwise, trying to trace the borders of her fertile uterus. the ridged surface kneading her inner walls like a machine built for ruin. It probes deep—too deep—the tip pressing against the edges her womb, pulsing with cold, artificial energy, triggering involuntary spasms, floods of slick betraying her even as her mind rages. ***NNNYYYY—UGHHH—!*** Her scream is *wet*, desperate—cut short as her throat convulses, her head and hair thrashing. Her heeled boot—still clinging to one foot—twitches, toes curling. He leans in—closer—his breath hot on her neck.  “Say it…” He whispers.  “…and I’ll let you cum.”  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">For the next few minutes neither of them says a word-the only sounds the fleshy thuds of flesh on flesh, the squelching of vaginal slick, and blood, and lastly the low hum of cameras. Psylocke can't hold it in anymore-she cums-without permission. Omega red leans in, loving how her stomach now involuntarily rolls against his body as she experiences her orgasm fully. "Ohh...bad girl" he grins sadistically..."you'll have to be punished"  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">His massive hands continue to roam freely over Kwannon’s sweat-slicked body, tracing the divine tension of her abs, the glorious gluteal creases she has cultiavted with her athleticism, the taught ridges of her back muscles as they flex and roll with every forced movement. His thumbs press into the hollows of her spine. His fingers spread wide over her hips. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t dominate through speed. He is memorizing her body through possession. His cock—buried to the hilt in her pussy—feels every inch of her: the heat, her impossible tightness despite everything he’a done to her,  the involuntary clench of post-orgasmic aftershocks still rippling through her. The carbodium dildo in her ass rotates slowly—methodical, relentless—keeping her stretched, aware, full. And the thin tendril in her throat? It pulses—just enough to make her gag, just enough to make her struggle, just enough to keep her on edge. She bounces—helpless as small, controlled lifts of his hips—just enough to make her slide down, then snap back up, her ass slapping against the base of the carbodium shaft, her pussy squeezing around his cock with every descent. Her heeled boots—now both dangling, one half-off—twitch uselessly.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And the *sounds*— ***Mmmph… glrk… hnnn…*** Low. Wet. *Erotic*. Each breath a moan. Each gasp a plea. Each swallow a *symphony of forced submission. Her voice—now reduced to noise—the kind that would shatter a weaker man’s control, send him spilling in seconds. But Arkady? He doesn’t come. Can’t come. Not yet. Because he knows— This moment is too perfect to end. So he burn  it into memory: The way her abs roll against his chest as she’s impaled. The way her purple eyes—still open, still hating—glisten with tears. The way her body trembles, from overload. The way her pussy floods—again, involuntarily—around his cock, as if begging for more.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Her body survives ten more minutes of unbroken, relentless violation. Ten minutes of dual penetration, micro-shocks, forced breath, and psychological siege. Her body is a ruin of sweat, cum, blood, and trembling muscle. Her breath comes in short and broken, each one muffled by the carbodium tendril buried in her throat. Spit leaks steadily from the corners of her lips, trailing down her chin, pooling on the stone. Her hair is frayed, matted with sweat and dust, clinging to her back like a fallen banner. Her heeled boots are gone—both kicked free, one shattered, the other cracked at the heel. Her abs still flex. Her thighs still twitch. Her pussy still clenches—always against her will. But her eyes—once burning with hatred—have begun to flicker and dim. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Arkady feels it. The shift. The predator’s intuition of its prey about to break. He slows his hips—just slightly. Lets the carbodium shaft in her ass pulse instead of thrust. Lets the one in her throat vibrate—just once—making her gag, making her spasm, making her look at him. She does. And in that moment—he speaks. No sneer. No command. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Say it.”<span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The words hang in the air—simple, final. A release. A trap. Kwannon’s body trembles—suspended, split, ruined. Her chest heaves. Her pussy clenches around his cock—once, spurting—a final, involuntary flood. Her ass spasms around the carbodium shaft, the ring struggling to not break. She tries to speak. Can’t. The tendril in her throat vibrates—***nngh***—cutting her off before it begins. But Arkady knows. She wants to. So he pulls it out. Just enough. Just so she can try. Her lips part—raw, swollen, trembling. Her breath rasps—***hhhhk… ghh…***—and then—   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Th… thank…  She stops. Swallows. Tears spill. Tries again.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Thank… you…  Her voice struggles to form every syllable, a combination of her body’s exhaustion and her mind’s unwillingness to give Arkady this. But her body feels like it can’t take anymore.<span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“ the… audience…”  Her head drops. Her shoulders slump. Her body sags—held up only by his cock, his tentacles, his will.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“ for… watching…”  Silence.  Then— Arkady smiles. A predator’s grin.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Too late.”  His voice is so sinister now.  “I don’t think anyone in the audience believes you. I don”t beleive you.” He shifts—just slightly. His hands tighten on her waist. His cock—still buried in her pussy—begins to move. A shallow pull, then a deep, sawing thrust. The carbodium dildo in her ass rotates—once, twice—then begins to piston in sync, stretching her open again, rewriting her relief. Her breath *hacking* out in a ragged, despairing ***Huuuagghhhhnoooooooo—!***—as full violation resumes.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And above— The serpentine carbodium tendril hovers at her lips. Then—***shhhk***—it pushes back in. Not all at once. Gradual. Just past her teeth. Just past her tongue. Then deeper—***glrk—!***—past the gag reflex, reclaiming her throat, forcing her to swallow, to submit, to know it’s not over. His lips brush her ear—so close, so intimate.  “You have to mean it, pet-you have to beg in your tongue.”  He pulls back slightly—just enough to let her try to speak. The tendril eases—just a fraction—giving her space, but not freedom. Her chest heaves. Her lips part. A whimper—***nngh…***—escapes. But no words.   <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Say it.l Omega Red’s voice darkens.  “Itadakimasu.”  He doesn’t wait long. His hips surge—faster now. Deeper. The dual shafts pistoning in unison, splitting her open with renewed purpose and even more speed and painful friction than before. Flesh slaps flesh—***thk—thk—thk***—a brutal rhythm that makes her body bounce, makes her head roll, makes her spasm. The filament on her clit vibrates. The filaments on her nipples twist. The one in her armpit presses—every nerve alight, every muscle betraying her. And the tendril in her throat? It pushes deeper. ***Glllrrrk—!*** She gags—violently. Tears flood—spilling freely, uncontrolled. Her fingers claw at him futilely. Her toes curl. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Her chest heaves. Her lips part—just slightly—her breath ragged, trembling. She tries to form the words. Wants to—desperately—to make it stop, to steal one second of mercy, to silence the pounding, the stretching, the endless violation. But then— She realizes. There is no relief. No exit. No end in surrender. Because he doesn’t want obedience. He wants ruin. And so— She closes her mouth. And says nothing.  Arkady feels it. The defiance. Not loud. Not proud. Quiet. The most dangerous kind. He smiles and responds with violence. With horrifying escalation. To her horror The violation expands.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Two new carbodium tentacles streak from his spine. One surges toward her pussy—already impaled, already split—and without hesitation, forces its way in beside his cock, the veined shaft wedging itself into her overstretched lips, the tip curling deep into her womb. The other snaps into her ass—joining the first dildo, doubling the stretch, shattering the space. ***KYAAAA—NNNGHHH—NOOOoOOaAaaUUUUuhHGhHHHHH!!!*** Her scream is animal—raw, gutted. Her body locks, every muscle firing at once—abs, thighs, back, ass—She is beyond full. Not just with one. Not just with two. With four. Flesh and metal. Each cock already large on its own, now defiling her savagely.. Arkady leans in—close to her ear, voice a whisper like a blade.  “You thought saying the words now would save you?”  He begins to thrust—all four shafts moving in brutal, synchronized rhythm.  “Then let’s see how long you before you scream.” <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">A fifth carbodium tentacle snakes from Arkady’s spine and surges forward, joining the one already buried in her throat. It doesn’t replace it. It doubles it. Two black, veined shafts—side by side—force their way past her lips, past her clenched teeth, deep into her esophagus. One twists left. One twists right. Together, they piston in shallow, brutal strokes—***shhk—shhk—shhk***—not letting her swallow, not letting her breathe, turning every gasp into a gurgle, every cry into a choke.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And then— From the shadows, two more tendrils slither forward. Not for penetration. For degradation. They coil around the fallen red sash—the *iconic* sash, the one she wore in battle, in victory, in pride. Damp with sweat. Stained with cum. Forgotten. Now reclaimed. The tentacles lift it—slow, ceremonial—and wrap it around her neck. Tight. One loop. Then another. Then a third—woven through the coils, binding the fabric to her skin, binding her breath. The ends trail down her chest, dragging in the slick beneath her, marking what was once hers as his. Choked. Stretched. Owned. The rhythm intensifies. All four shafts—two in her pussy, two in her ass—pump in brutal, synchronized thrusts. No mercy. No variation. Just relentless, mechanical domination. Flesh and metal splitting her, filling her, as now she can no longer breathe. Her stomach ripples with all those cocks in her guts—involuntary, spasming—with every deep plunge.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And the sound— ***Gllllrk—!*** ***Thkk—Thkk—Thkk—!*** ***Ssschhhk—Ssschhhk—!*** A symphony of ruin. The cameras are worshipful—panning from her face—lips torn, eyes wide, drowning—to her body—split, *gaping, *flooded*. Cum *spurts* from her pussy—mixing with blood, with slick—dripping in thick pulses to the stone. Her ass clenches around dual invasion, milking, bending beyond comprehension. Spit sprays from her lips—***drip… drip…***—onto the sash, Minutes pass. Five. Ten. She can’t speak. Can’t beg. Doesn’t break. But she can’t stop…***spurt***—in a sudden, violent climax—unwanted, but every tremor captured on camera. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">For twenty brutal minutes, the cameras take Arkady’s relentless ownership of her body. Her body—athletic, honed, legendary—has endured what would have shattered any ordinary woman. Ninja conditioning. Psychic fortitude. Warrior’s will. They’ve kept her conscious. Kept her painfully aware. Kept her feeling every inch of violation. And Arkady—Omega Red—has used it all. His hands never stop roaming—gripping her ribs, dragging over her sweat-slicked abs, kneading the firm muscles of her thighs. But now—more tentacles answer the call. Two new filaments—slender, precise—coil around her breasts. One wraps tight around the base of her left breast—squeezing, lifting, making her nipple jut forward, raw, exposed. The other circles the right, then pinches the areola between two whip-thin sub-tendrils, twisting slow, making her gurgle around the dual shafts in her throat. Another tendril flicks across her nipple—back and forth, rapid, stinging—like a lash, like mockery. And beneath— The four shafts—two in her pussy, two in her ass—pump in brutal, syncopated rhythm. No longer steady. Now building. Faster. Deeper.Harder. Each thrust forces a new cry—***Gllrk—! Ughh—! Knnn—!***—each one muffled. Cum spurts from her pussy—uncontrolled—mixing with blood, with sweat, with his slick.Psylocke’s eyes begin to roll in the back of her head, her red sash betraying her, denying her enough oxygen to keep going, tightly wrapped as it is around her elegant neck.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And Arkady— He feels it coming. The coil in his spine. The heat in his gut. The pressure in his cock—thick, veined, buried deep in her womb. He’s close. And he will not be *quiet*.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Ita… da…  The syllables are weak. Fragmented. Drowned beneath the obscene symphony of her violation—the ***shhk—shhk*** of dual carbodium shafts pistoning in her throat, the ***thk—thk—squelch*** of twin cocks *slamming* into her split holes, the wet rip of overused flesh, the hum of cameras drinking it all in. Her chest heaves—***hah… hah… hah***—but no air comes. No word completes. Kwannon feels it-she’s out of oxygen, about to choke to death, while experiencing a deep humiliating orgasm.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“No…” she quietly thinks to herself… “not like this…” <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">But then— Arkady *feels* it. The moment she buckles. Not in words. In body. With a silent command, the two tentacles in her throat retreat—***shhhk… shhhk***—sliding free, leaving her gasping, writhing, acting on pure subconscious instinct. Spit and cum trail from her lips, dripping onto the red sash coiled tight around her neck. Her head lolls. Her purple eyes—once defiant—now flicker, wide, desperate. She doesn’t want to say it. She must. To breathe. To survive. To make it end. And so— As the dual shafts in her pussy and the multiple tentacles ass thrust deeper—***SLAM—SLAM—!***—the filament on her clit vibrates—once, sharper—and the twist on her nipples tightens— She desperately tries to mouth the word…<span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Mppphhmm* …Ita…da *uhhhhgnnhhoooohhhh* kauuuuahhhhhhhhghghhhhhhh-and she breaks. And comes.Every individual toned muscle on her body flexes as her body can take no more. The orgasm rips through her—wave after wave of forced ecstasy, Her entire core flooding—hot, slick, humiliating—as cum and arousal gush down her inner thighs, pooling beneath her in thick, glistening ropes. The red sash around her neck tightens—not choking anymore, but only heightening the feeling. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And Arkady— He feels it too. Her climax. Her scream. Her surrender. And he unloads—a volcanic eruption of thick, steaming cum that slams into her womb, the force making her entire body lift, her scream pitching higher, The carbodium dildos in her ass also jerk violently, mimicking climax triggering another convulsion in her core. His cock pulses again and again, each jet deeper, harder, —flooding her. And still,  he holds her. As she screams. As she floods. As she breaks. As they both ride out the most intensely brutal orgasm of their lives.  <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">And as the darkness of unconsciousness finally overtakes Psylocke, the last thing she hears is Arkady’s sneer. <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Was it as good for you as it was for me? For them?” Psylocke tries to escape, to summon psychic power to drive Arkady out, to say something, but she’s been through too much. She can’t hold on…and as her eyes close, she hears Arkady say ominously… <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">I think I have to hold on to this one…she’s too special of a toy to pass up.” </body> </html>

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Kwannon's Capture

The Ruining

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