The Marauding of Magik

“I'm not afraid of you, S'ym, and I'll take you down just like the rest of your minions!”  She raises her Soulsword, its blade gleaming in the faint, eerie light of the mystical realm.  

S'ym cant believe his eyes-he's finally cornered Magik, and despite the dozens of slain demons at her feet they both know she's at the end of her rope, her muscles and mutant power exhausted

“You've cut down my legions, past-queen... but look at you now.”  A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he flicks his flexible tail, stepping closer her.

“I’ll die before I kneel to you, demon”.  Her grip tightens on the Soulsword, 

“Oh, but you do.  His claws trace the air, weaving faint runes of crimson energy.  This realm answers to *me*, and you’re standing on its heart. One word, and the stone beneath your boots becomes your tomb. Still feel so untouchable?:  

Magik knows the last part is a bluff, but still S'ym is right about one thing-she's exhausted, her muscles and mutant power spent cutting down nearly one hundred demons  Her knees waver slightly, the Soulsword planting into the stone to keep her upright. Sweat glistens on her brow, her breaths sharp and shallow.  “Bluff all you want, S'ym. But we both know... you’re stalling.”  

“I'm not stalling,” S'ym replies-he smiles sinisterly. “Just taking in the sights! It's not often you see the ruler you are about to usurp in all of her fierce, gorgeous majesty…”  His tail flicks with dark amusement, stepping closer until the heat of his body disturbs the smoky air around her.  “Though, I honestly expected you to take down more of my minions. Is this truly the limit of the mighty Magik? Or are you simply... saving your strength for a more *pleasurable* form of surrender?“ 

His provocation works, and Ilyana’s body immediately explodes into motion, the Soulsword half-raised-then the impact hits. A sharp, brutal fist slams into her exposed waist, just above the hip, stealing her breath in a gasp-a savage right cross.  Hnng-!  She staggers, the sword tip scraping stone, one gloved hand flying to her side as her muscles spasm from the blow.  “You always did fight like a coward. No honor-just cheap strikes.  “

“But it gives me such a glorious view!”  His tail lashes behind him like a serpent poised to strike, red eyes alight with cruel delight as he circles her slowly.  “Every time you lunge, you bare that perfect, heaving torso-every breath trembles with effort.”  

“You want a strike, demon?” Then *have it*!  With a guttural cry, she lunges forward, putting every ounce of her remaining strength into a downward slash aimed at S'ym’s shoulder-leaving her open, her body committing to the attack. But she's too good a warrior, she knows S'ym will take the bait and deliver a devastating blow,  but she will teleport at the last second behind him and split him down the middle with her Soulsword. A cunning plan, one worthy of the queen of limbo. 

Unfortunately for her, S'ym has known her for far too long. He plays into the trap at first, miming a big counter-strike, but as she teleports, he immediately snaps his tail through the air with inhuman precision, muscles coiling like a serpent in the split second she vanishes. The moment she reappears behind him, the thick, powerful appendage wraps tight around her waist-hips, stomach, every taut inch of her warrior’s core-fingers of demonic muscle savoring the heat and strength beneath her skin.  

“Too predictable, my queen.”  He yanks her off her feet and slams her back down, once-twice-her body jolting with impact, each crash sending a ripple through her toned frame.  You think I haven’t studied your tricks? Every feint, every vanish... I’ve *dreamed* of this.  Her gasps fuel him, the way her abs clench against his tail’s grip, the soft groan torn from her lips as he lifts her again, dangling her above the scorched stone. “ Still feel like a ruler? Or just my plaything?”  

“You’re nothing but a leashed mutt who got lucky!  Begging and betraying for scraps of power you never earned!”  

A deep, rumbling laugh escapes S'ym, his red eyes glowing brighter with te insult.   His fist drives into the soft curve of her breast, the fabric of her top straining as the impact sends a violent jiggle through her flesh, her nipple pebbling from shock and cold fire.  You think humiliation hurts me? No… it feeds me.  Another punch lands on her inner thigh, just above the knee-her leg jerks, the svelte muscle twitching, sweat-slick skin reddening under the blow.  Every curse, every glare… makes this moment sweeter.  His tail constricts, ribs creaking under the pressure, her breath bursting out in a helpless gasp.  I don’t want a meek girl. I want YOU, queen-furious, broken, feeling strike. And you will… feel more than this soon…”

Her body convulses as another slap splits the air, her cheek reddening, blood trickling from her lip. The unrelenting crush of S'ym’s tail squeezes the breath from her lungs, her ribs groaning under the pressure, her breasts heaving with each shallow, broken gasp. Every punch to her chest sends shockwaves through her torso, her inner thighs twitching from the impact.  “You’ve lived eons…”  She forces the words out, voice ragged but defiant. “Tasted power most can’t dream of… So why does it thrill you… to beat a woman half your age?”  A pained grunt escapes her as her body jerks in his grip.  “Is that all you are now? A  coward… hiding behind tricks… because time left you… nothing else?” 

S'ym’s tail contracts and then lashes, hurling her backward with demonic strength. Her body arcs through the smoke-laced air before crashing spine-first into the ancient tree, its bark twisted like tormented sinew.  “Haaaa-!”  The impact drives the air from her lungs, her back arching violently against the jagged surface. Instinctively, her arms fly up and over the thick trunk, her legs wrapping against the tree behind her her-and she immediately realizes something is wrong.

“This tree. It’s alive…it’s wrong. I can feel it-

The gnarled branches of the ancient tree writhe like living serpents, black bark splitting as sinewy limbs unfurl with deliberate malice. One thick tendril snakes around each of Magik’s wrists, another coiling tightly around her ankles-then, with a slow, relentless pull, they stretch her taut across the trunk, her spine arched into a cruel crescent, her body bent like the letter "C", her chest thrust forward, her toned abdomen exposed and quivering.   A guttural cry tears from her throat as one of the branches-a thick, knotted limb veined with crimson energy-wraps tightly around her sword arm, fingers locking near the wrist and elbow. It begins to twist, slowly at first, then with unbearable pressure, forcing her forearm into a painful arc.  Nngh-!  

Her knuckles whiten around the Soulsword’s hilt, her biceps straining, veins rising under her skin as she fights to hold on. But the branch constricts, tendons creaking, until-  AH!  With a final, vicious twist, her grip gives way. The Soulsword clatters to the stone below, its glow dimming as it lies abandoned, out of reach. Her breath comes in sharp, ragged bursts, her body trembling in the tree’s unnatural embrace.  “You won’t… you *dare*…bind me like some common prisoner…!”  But the tree only tightens, its dark pulse syncing with her racing heart.  

S'ym drinks in the view, watching limbo's queen struggle, her every perfect muscle on display for him. "put you are a common prisoner, now, my pet. And prisoners must be punished." He says it cruelly, malice dripping from every words as he slowly steps forward  

His red eyes feasting on the sight of Limbo’s queen bent across the ancient trunk-her arms and legs stretched wide, her back arched in torment, every sculpted muscle in her abdomen, shoulders, and thighs taut like drawn steel.  “Oh, but you are a common prisoner now, my pet.”  His tail sways behind him, thick and glistening, its tip brushing the ground like a predator circling prey.  “And prisoners... must be punished.”  He stops inches from her, heat radiating off his body.  Look at you-The Queen of Limbo-now held open by a tree that simply adores its queen. How long do you think it’ll keep you here? Hours? Centuries?  He leans in, breath hot against her ear.  Or should I… speed up your suffering?  “

“This tree? It’s just another tool… like you.”  She forces her head up, sweat-drenched hair clinging to her neck, green eyes blazing.  “And when I break free-I’ll plant your skull on a spike for all to see” Ilyana's words are genuine, but also a clever ploy to buy time to cast another spell-but to her mounting horror, she realizes something about the tree is nullifying her magical abilities. Her eyes widened, breath hitching-not from pain this time, but from dread.  “You… you knew this would happen…”  Her voice is lower now, strained with realization.  This tree… it’s not just holding me. It’s…doing something to me…” 

A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest as he closes the distance, his hand gripping the back of her neck, forcing her face toward his. “Did you think you had no enemies as queen?” He sneers in derision. “I planted this tree centuries ago, fed it with the blood and bones of sorcerors, so that it would feed and drain Magic. And now it is draining you, Magik. Now, my former queen… There are many of your subjects who would like to have a word with you.”  His red eyes burn into hers for a heartbeat-then he surges forward, crushing her mouth with his in a kiss of pure domination. His tongue-long, hot, and serpentine-forces past her lips, coiling around hers, yanking it deeper into his mouth as if claiming it as spoils of war.  “And I’m first.”  

His left hand molds roughly over her breast, thumb grinding hard circles over her nipple through the thin, stretched fabric, while his right slips down with deliberate hunger, fingers pressing into the tight curve of her ass, then sliding forward-palming the soft, forbidden mound beneath her shorts, the heel of his hand pressing firm, rhythmic pressure against her clit.  “Mmm… such a proud mouth. Such a tight body.”  He groans against her lips, savoring her muffled resistance.  

His tongue coils like a living whip around hers-yanking, tugging, pulling her deeper into the kiss with inhuman strength, a perverse mimicry of intimacy turned into conquest. Each pull sends a jolt through her skull, her jaw aching from the pressure, her breath coming in muffled gasps through her nose.  “Mmm… you taste of iron and pride.”  His voice is a guttural purr as he breaks the kiss just enough to speak, lips still brushing hers.  “How fitting.”  His left hand glides over her breast-suddenly soft, almost reverent, kneading the firm flesh with slow, sensual circles-then slaps hard, the crack echoing off the black trees, her nipple pebbling under the sudden sting.  “You flinch so beautifully.”  

His right hand shifts between her thighs, fingers dancing over the thin fabric covering her pussy-first a teasing rub, then a sharp slap to her inner thigh, making her jerk against the tree’s bindings.  “Shall I keep petting you… or remind you who owns this body now?”  His thumb presses firm against her clit through the soaked fabric, grinding in slow, maddening circles.  Answer me, pet.  His tongue snakes out, tracing the shell of her ear.  Scream it.  

Magik’s breath comes in ragged, broken bursts, her body jolting between the perverse tenderness and violent strikes, her mind reeling from the sensory assault. She tries to form words-insults, spells, anything-but all that escapes is a choked, guttural cry as his thumb grinds harder, his fingers leaving red marks on her tender inner thigh.  Nngh-! You-!  Her voice is raw, trembling with fury.  “I’ll… I’ll end you for this…Hou don’t-AH!  Her head jerks back as his hand suddenly slaps her breast hard, the sting radiating through her chest, her nipple tightening under the fabric. “ …You’re just… another weapon… waiting to be…ordered around…”

His smirk widens into something feral, eyes alight with sadistic delight as he raises his fists.  “Well, if I am a weapon… I should live up to my name.”  With that, he drives a brutal punch into her shoulder, then her ribs, each impact making her body ripple like water beneath flawless skin. He rains down strikes across her torso, her arms trembling in their bindings, her breath bursting out in sharp, pained gasps-then shifts focus, hammering the meat of his fists into her inner thighs, again and again, forcing her legs wider, making her groin press hard against her own belt buckle, the metal digging into her clit with every jolt.  

“Mmm… listen to that.”  He leans in, his voice a dark purr.  “You’re *humming* for me.”  His tail lashes forward-thick, scaled, hot-and forces past her lips, down her throat, pushing deep into her esophagus. She gags, eyes watering, her body convulsing as the appendage pulses inside her, each punch now making her choke and vibrate around it, a wet, obscene hum resonating through her chest.  “That’s it… sing for your new ruler. Let the realm hear how Limbo’s former queen services her former subject.”  

To her horror, S'ym continues striking her, his fists falling like hammers, each brutal punch landing with deep, meaty impact-her abdomen, her thighs, the soft curve of her ribs, her flat, toned stomach not currently being crushed by his tail. And with each blow, her throat clenches around his invading tail, forced deep into her esophagus, her choked gasps twisting into wet, vibrating hums that ripple along his sensitive flesh.  Nnh-!  She arches, tears streaking her temples as her lungs burn, her mouth stretched wide around the thick appendage, her voice reduced to muffled, rhythmic moans with every new punch.  

Oh yes… *yes*…  S'ym growls, reveling in the sensation of her warm, obscene suffering. He drives a fist hard into her left breast, making her yelp around the tail, the sound vibrating deep in her chest, a perverse purr of agony.  Such a beautiful noise… like a supplication offered to your new ruler.”  He leans in close, watching her eyes water, her body trembling in the tree’s grip.  “Shall I punch harder… and make you *scream* through your throat? “ 

Ilyana's silence (ecept for a few wet choaked moans) gives S'ym a devlishly sadistic idea. with demonic forces, he grabs onto a particularly large branch of the tree and begins bending the tree's very trunk, forcing Ilyana to go from being bound horizontally to be bound essentially upright, as he whips out his monstrous, literally demon cock  

Magik’s body hangs in silence-save for the wet, choked moans forced from her throat, which gives S'ym a devilishly sadistic idea. A cruel smile spreads across his face as he reaches out, fingers curling around a massive, twisting branch jutting from the ancient tree.  

S'ym

With a guttural roar, he bends the trunk of the tree, and it responds like no earthly wood. . The entire trunk groans as if alive in hunger. Slowly, inexorably, it begins to bend, the gnarled trunk, now forced into a horrifying right angle-her body still draped vertically across it like a sacrifice laid upon an altar, Then-it emerges. Thick, veined, and pulsing with dark energy, S'ym’s monstrous cock unfurls from beneath his green pants, its tip glistening with demonic slick, the heat of it warping the air around them. The head is flared like a crown of sin, the length ridged and cruel.

S'ym steps forward, the tip brushing against her inner thigh, slapping her booty shorts. His voice is a serpent’s whisper, laced with triumph.  “Oh don’t worry, my former queen. You’ll still have a throne.” 

His tail remains deep in her throat, pulsing with slow, invasive throbs, forcing her to gag and hum around it with every shuddering breath. Her eyes water as he denies her air-then rewards her with just a sliver of relief before plunging deeper. Meanwhile, his monstrous cock drags up between her thighs, the thick, burning head pressing hard against the soaked fabric of her tight booty shorts, right over her clit, t

“I am a generous king,” you haughty mutant bitch.  He grinds forward, the ridged crown forcing the damp fabric *into* her slit, the elastic biting into her labia, the pressure building with every breath.  You'll have a new throne–and I will give of my body!”  He laughs darkly, hips surging in short, brutal thrusts, the thick shaft rubbing cruelly against her pussy, the fabric stretching, threatening to tear as her muffled moans vibrate down his tail.  

To make things worse, she feels something press against her anus as well-the tree, whether lashing out from pain or sadistic pleasure, has moved a gnarled, 10 inch branch that feels too much like a cock for comfort-and it also presses hungrily against where her shorts protect her anus. S'ym's eyes light up sadistically "See, my former queen? Even the nature of limbo approves of your new position!" And with that, he thrusts deeply, forcing a few inches of his mammoth footlong member into the dry walls of the struggling heroine. The tree-cock does the same, only making it a few inches into her unprepared asshole. 

Her body convulses-a raw, primal spasm as dual violations tear through her. S'ym’s monstrous cock forces into her pussy, thick and scorching, stretching her dry, her inner muscles clenching in desperate resistance as he drives several brutal inches into her unready core. At the same instant, the gnarled, bark-covered branch-slick with some dark, resinous fluid-presses against her clenched anus, then *bursts* through, forcing a few thick inches into her rectum, its ridges scraping raw, unyielding flesh. The elastic of her shorts gives  from the raw, unstoppable force of his penetration. Some of the material is dragged in, bunching, twisting, forced ahead of his cock as it breaches her pussy, the slick black fabric shoved deep into her channel alongside his girth. Strips of it curl around the thick veins of his shaft. The same happens behind-where the tree’s branch, responding to his rhythm, lurches forward, spearing into her ass and yanking a trailing edge of the same ruined shorts into her rectum with it, the fabric knotting inside her, trapped between bark and tender flesh.  

*NNNNNEEEEEAAAAAAAAUUUGGGGGGHHHHHNNNNNNNN!!! AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHKK* Her scream is trapped, muffled by S'ym’s tail still lodged deep in her throat, turning her agony into a wet, gurgling shriek that vibrates along his length.  Nails digging uselessly into the tree’s grip, her back arching violently, her thighs trembling, she thrashes-once, twice-only to be held fast in this perverse immobilization.

The contrast is exquisite-her toned thighs still hugged by the surviving sections of the shorts, the black leather-like material straining as her muscles spasm, the large belt digging into her hips as she’s forced open. Above, her form-fitting top hangs in torn tatters, her breasts exposed and heaving. Below, only devastation-what remains of her shorts a perfect frame for her ravaged center, the last vestiges of clothing now part of the violation itself.  

Her breath hitches-sharp, surprised, then despairing, realization crashes over her. The soft, sweat-warmed fabric of her own shorts-a constant display of her skill as warrior that she doesn’t even need armor, now used to degrade her. With every thrust of S'ym’s cock, every pulse of the tree’s grotesque shaft. The elastic edge scrapes across her g-spot as he pulls back, then slams in again, shoving the wadded black material ahead of him like a violation within a violation. Behind, the tree forces the knotted remnant deeper into her ass, the material swelling with resin and her own heat, stretching her in ways that make her whimper around the tail still deep in her throat. 

A choked, desperate moan escapes as the twin intrusions pulse-S'ym’s cock swelling deeper, the tree’s branch twitching inside her like something alive* feeding on her pain.  She tries to summon defiance, to spit venom-but all that comes out is a strangled, vibrating whimper. 

With a cruel laugh, S'ym's hands clamp down on her magnificent breasts like vices, fingers digging through her top hungrily to get at the soft, firm flesh. His claws rend the already strained fabric of her top until it tears completely-exposing her magnificent, heaving mounds, her nipples taut with shock and the cruel heat of violation. He laughs-a deep, thunderous sound that ripples through the twisted trees-as he uses the sensitive flesh of her breasts as handles, pulling her down onto his cock with each brutal thrust, driving another thick inch into her clenching pussy, forcing the tree-branch deeper into her violated ass.  “Mmm… such perfect leverage.”  He smirks in faux appreciation, thrusting hard, his hips slamming against her, the sound of wet penetration mingling with her choked, vibrating cries of pain. HUUUAGGHHH NOOOO-UUUFFHHH-AAAAAHHNNNNGGGG*  Her muffled protests push his claws dig deeper, drawing beads of blood that trail down her chest, her areolas blooming with pain and unwanted heat.  

“Does it hurt? Good.”  He leans in, fangs grazing her ear as he pistons forward again, forcing her to take even more.  “What’s a revolution without a little blood, after all?”

After a minute of brutal thrusting, he finally releases her abused breasts with a wet, cruel slap, the torn remnants of her black top clinging to her like mourning veils, the fabric framing her flushed, blood-kissed flesh-still perfect. He steps back just enough to admire the spectacle: Magik, the once-untouchable queen, now split wide on twin invaders, eight thick inches of demonic cock buried in her dripping cunt, an equal length of gnarled, pulsing wood jammed deep in her clenching ass, her body trembling in continuous, helpless spasms. Her breath comes in shattered gasps around his still-embedded tail, her eyes glazed with pain.  

“Ah… such a tight little prison you’ve become.”  He grins, red eyes alight with sadistic brilliance.  “Let’s see how well you hold me.”  

With that, his hand lashes out-crack!-a sharp, open-palmed slap across her toned abdomen, the impact reverberating through her core, making her inner muscles spasm violently around both shafts. She jerks against the bindings, a muffled scream humming down his tail, her pussy and ass squeezing him and the tree delightfully in reflexive, agonized clenching.  

“Yes… yes!”  He laughs, delivering another strike-this time to her inner thigh, hard enough to leave a red welt.  Another punch lands on her ribcage, then a slap to her ass, each impact sending shockwaves through her violated depths, forcing her to ride the cocks impaling her whether she wills it or not.  

S'ym’s assault escalates-no longer just punches and slaps, but deep, grinding thrusts from his monstrous cock, matched by the tree’s own sinister pulse, the branch inside her ass twitching and swelling in size, literally feeding on her torment. Each brutal forward drive forces more of his girth into her straining pussy, more of the bark-wrapped intruder into her ravaged rectum. Her body, proud and vital, tries desperately to resist-leg muscles tensing, sphincters clamping, her abdomen flexing in instinctive defense-but every movement only tightens her around the invaders, every struggle becomes a rhythm of violation.  Her youthful frame trembles-sweat-slicked, overheated, trembling at the edge of sensory collapse. The blows rain down: a fist to her solar plexus, a slap to her left breast, a sharp strike to the soft flesh above her hip-and each one sends a seismic ripple through her core, forcing her inner walls to spasm, and clutch at the thick shafts splitting her open. The torn fabric of her top flutters with each shuddering breath, her long yellow hair matted to her neck, her green eyes 109wide, unfocused-no longer seeing the realm, only the horror of her own helplessness.  

Her body *jolts* as a punch lands low on her stomach, right above her pubic bone-the impact driving her down onto S'ym’s cock, forcing another inch inside, the ridge at the base scraping against her sensitive inner walls. A raw, choked cry escapes around his tail, her back arching violently, her thighs quivering. Her mind screams no as her clit throbs against the ruined fabric still pressed there. She tries to clamp down, to push them out, but the tree constricts in response, its branch swelling slightly, its resinous tip pressing deeper. 

Magik fights every pulse, every thrust, every strike-but after nearly ten minutes of unrelenting assault-S'ym’s cock pistoning deep, the tree’s grotesque branch throbbing deeper in her rectum, than she thought possible  fists and palms hammering her abdomen, breasts, thighs-her resistance begins to fracture. The spasms that once were purely reflexive now carry a terrible cadence. Her inner walls clench from building, insistent pressure.  Then it happens. 

A brutal punch to her pelvic mound-delivered just as S'ym drives deep, the flare of his cock dragging across her swollen g-spot, while the tree-branch inside her ass pulses with dark mimicry with a thrust of its own. Her body locks. Her back bows so hard the tree creaks. She tries to scream, but it only comes out as a muffled noise of despair, a “NAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHNNNNN echoing down S'ym’s tail in a long, shuddering hum. Her pussy floods, hot and slick, clenching in rhythmic waves around his cock. At the same instant, her ass also spasms around the invading branch, her entire frame trembling as the orgasm rips through her-a violent, unwanted climax born of degradation, pain, and cruel, brutal stimulation.

The question hangs in the air in the aftermath of her orgasm-her Darkchylde persona should have surged forth the moment her life was threatened, a reflex as instinctive as breathing. But it didn’t. In fact, that side of her has been oddly silent. As Magik’s mind wanders in her post-orgasmic state, she sense Darkchylde’s response.

“I can’t, sister-self. If I come up, I will fall to S'ym’s grotesque attentions, and then we will both be lost. My demonic side makes me much more vulnerable than you to turning , to giving in–to becoming his. I’m sorry.”

Despite not having cum himself, he withdraws slowly-just enough to make her feel the thick pull of his cock on her pussy walls, the gnarled ridges of the tree-branch still buried deep in her ass-and steps back, his red eyes raking over her like a conqueror surveying pillaged land. His breath is steady, his body unmarked, his tail curling with satisfaction as he drinks in the sight of her: Limbo’s once fiercely radiant queen, her golden hair matted with sweat, her toned body trembling in the tree’s cruel embrace, the torn remnants of her top clinging to heaving, pert teardrop breasts, her pussy glistening with a mix of her juices and his slick, her anus still impaled by the living shaft that pulses inside her. The taut, sweat-slicked muscles of her abdomen still quivering from violation, the proud curve of her shoulders strained against the tree’s grip, the youthful suppleness of her skin now marked with red welts, claw tracks, and the faint bruising from having survived his brutal thrusts. Even now, her athletic frame and youthful vitality make her the object more of lust and arousal than pity. 

The ancient tree , having drunk its fill of the young woman, slowly releases Ilyana. The living branch buried deep in Magik’s ass slowly retreats with a wet, reluctant drag, leaving her raw, gaping, trembling. The trunk’s cruel 90-degree angle unwinds, straightening with a groan of aged wood, while simultaneously her bindings snap like brittle threads, and she collapses forward, catching herself on trembling arms, her bare knees pressing into the scorched earth. 

The shredded remnants of her shorts hang in tatters, her body exposed, marked, *used*.  Her spine is a column of fire. Every vertebra aches from the unnatural arch, the forced curvature that held her open for violation. Her limbs shake-muscles locked in chronic tension, now flooded with blood, lancing through with pins and needles as sensation returns in waves. Her thighs tremble, her pussy and ass still aching, the violated muscles fluttering as if trying to reject what they’ve been made to hold. Sweat and fluids slick her inner thighs, dripping down in slow, shameful trails. She breathes-deep, ragged pulls of smoky air-as if remembering how to do it on her own.  

Her body *wants* to move-every instinct screaming to roll, rise, form the sigil, *teleport*-but her mind knows the truth before her hands even twitch. She presses her palms flat against the blackened earth, veins standing in her arms as she tries to summon the energy, the focus, the spark of mutant  power that once let her portal through space like shedding a coat. Nothing answers. Flight is not an option-but she knows fighting. Her spine straightens inch by inch, pain lancing through her like live wire, but she wills her body into a fighting stance. 

In a flash she charges towards S'ym, knowing that in her exhausted condition it will take speed and surprise to have a shot. Her left leg sweeps low-a brutal, precise kick to the back of his knee, engineered to buckle him, to make him drop. 

He lets her strikes land-fist against chest, knee against ribs, nails raking his skin-each blow drawing a low, rumbling chuckle from his chest. His corded demonic body is nearly a ton of sinew and muscle, without Ilyana’s mutant and sorcerous powers, she is a noble, beautiful pest. And what a beauty…his eyes drink her in: the way her sweat-slicked muscles coil and release, the defiant fire in her green gaze, the sway of her perfect breasts with every furious movement, the glistening trail of blood and essence still seeping from her abused ass, painting her thighs with her own defiance. He pretends that the blows damage, bending his knee, Then-snap! In one brutal, seamless motion, he surges forward, crushing her as his huge hands clamping just below her ribs, her arms pinned to her sides in a vise of muscle and heat. The breath explodes from her lungs in a choked gasp, her body lifted high off the ground, her spine arching against his chest as he pulls her flush against him. His tail whips forward, coiling around her right thigh-just tight enough to keep her open, vulnerable, displayed.  

“Mmm… yes.”  His voice is a dark purr in her ear, his fangs grazing the shell of it.  “That’s it. Fight. Struggle. Let me feel you burn. “ 

He squeezes-just enough to make her whimper, to make her perfect abs spasm under his grip. Her breasts heave, nipples hard from exertion and cold exhaustion. He rocks his hips forward, his still-hard cock pressing into the cleft of her ass, slick with her fluids.  “You think you can take from me?:  He chuckles, low and vicious.  “You can’t even stand on your own…and still you try to play queen.”  He faux playfully shakes her around, loving how her blond hair twists about, framing her angelic, pained face, how his rotations force her pert nipples to brush against his stony chest, the light friction of her sculpted stomach pressing and moving against his. 

Unfortunately for Magik, the experience is far less playful, as each shake rocks her spine, as she feels her vertebrae pushed to the limit. She hates how her body is forced intimately against his.  S'ym’s fingers spread to feel everything he can get his meaty \, the way her lower back tenses and flexes as he pressures her, the frantic flutter of her abs as she strains against him, the way her stomach muscles jump and coil under his grip like living silk.He memorizes it all-the map of her resistance, the rhythm of her failing strength.  As soon as he stops twirling her around, his grip tightens, offering the poor girl no relief.

His arms are so large compared to Magik’s frame that his hand can reach around to her breasts, his  thumbs shift slightly, grazing the lower swells of her breasts, not touching the areolas, not yet-just *teasing* the edge, letting her feel the heat, the potential. His tail tightens around her thigh, pulling her leg up to add to her humiliation, exposing the slick, warm heat between her legs to the smoky air. 

He drinks in her fury like wine-her heart-shaped face contorted in beautiful defiance, her lips parted on a ragged breath, her green eyes blazing even as her body trembles in his unbreakable hold. Every shudder of her frame, every desperate flex of her stomach against his arms, sends a pulse of dark satisfaction through him. His gaze sweeps lower-yes, her front is a canvas of his earlier strokes: the redness across her chest from his slaps, the faint bruising along her ribs, the delicate pink of her nipples now darkened with arousal and friction. Even her thighs-the only parts of her legs not covered by her alluring thigh-high boots, all show marks of his tender attention. But her backside-those firm, round, *glorious* ass cheeks-remain unmarked, still covered by trembling patches of her shorts. And her strong, lean back-he knows it’s still pristine. 

His tail rises, thick, scaled, alive with dark energy, and in a swift, whip-like arc, it snaps across the lower swell of her back, just above the cleft of her ass. Not hard enough to break skin. Not yet. But just enough to make her arch, forcing her breasts to grind harder against his chest, her nipples dragging across his demonic flesh in a maddening, involuntary friction.  

Her face-oh, her face-twists in pain and fury, sweat beading on her brow, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “Beautiful.  You wear pain like a crown. But let’s see how you wear punishment.” 

 His left hand releases slightly from her abdomen-just enough to glide lower, fingertips dancing over her hip before landing with a sharp, open-palmed span* on the right cheek of her ass. The flesh jiggles, turns a soft pink. He does it again-left cheek. Then right. Then left-faster now, building rhythm, each slap echoing like a drumbeat. His tail keeps time, striking her back in alternating lashes, never too hard to break skin, never too soft to be ignored, just enough to keep her on edge, her cries rising, her body writhing, every movement dragging her sensitive nipples across his chest in a torment of pleasure-pain.  

“Feel that?”  He growls in her ear, squeezing her tighter as she bucks, her ass stinging, her back alight. “Your body sings for its king. And your ass…”  He lands a harder spank, making her yelp, her holes twitching in response.  “…is finally learning its place.“ 

As the lashes on her back and spanks on her ass build, the pain blooms, radiating through her entire body. Her head jerks forward with each impact, her breath cutting short, a cry tearing from her lips that she immediately tries to choke back. But it’s useless. The sounds keep coming-sharp, broken gasps, whimpers she can’t silence, cries that twist into something raw and aching.  “You… fucking… demon!” Her nipples, still crushed against his chest, drag with every shift, every breath, every punishing stroke.

“ I’ll… I’ll end you!”  She thrashes-harder now, her legs kicking, her spine arching, her abs clenching beneath his crushing grip. But every struggle only drags her body tighter against his, only grinds her burning ass into the relentless rhythm of his hand, only presses her sensitive breasts deeper into his chest. 

S'ym’s sadistic grin sends more shivers down Magik’s also brutalized spine. It only widens as feels the way her body shudders*when his left hand shifts from slaps to deep, possessive gropes-fingers sinking into the hot, tenderized flesh of her ass, kneading her strong, toned globes like clay meant to be shaped by his hands alone. He spreads her, pulls her open, *claims* her with every grip, every press, every slow, circular grind of his cock against the cleft of her ass. She writhes-of course she does-but her struggles only feed him, only make his blood burn hotter.  And then-control.  His tail wraps around her slender but strong neck like a serpent claiming its mate, thick scales pressing just enough to make her breath come in short, ragged pulls, making her feel how fragile she is in his grip. 

He leans in-his mouth, hot and wet, closing over one taut, abused nipple. His tongue drags across the pebbled peak, slow, thick, devouring, before his lips seal around it, sucking-deep, rhythmic, relentless. The other hand releases her breast for a moment only to palm it, to pinch the nipple between calloused fingers, to torture it into hardness before letting it go. His mouth moves then-lips trailing to the other breast, tongue flicking the areola before he takes it too, sucking harder now, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, drawing a strangled cry from her throat.  “All those men.”  He murmurs against her skin, lips still sealed to her nipple, voice vibrating through her chest. “Your fellow mutants. Warriors. Kings. Who dreamed of touching you like this. Of owning you like this.”  He bites down-just enough to make her scream, her back arching, her ass clenching around nothing, her pussy dripping in betrayal.  “But they only wished.”  He sucks again-harder. 

When his mouth releases her left nipple with a wet, audible pop, the sudden absence is its own kind of torture for the young Russian mutant. The cool air hits the soaked, abused peak-swollen, glistening, hypersensitive-and she flinches, her back arching slightly as the nerves scream in protest. But for S'ym? It is only pleasure, as he sees how her perfect breast, firm and high, jiggles once, twice, the teardrop shape trembling before settling.  Her breath hitches as his mouth closes over her right nipple-hot, wet, and ravenous*sucking deep, tongue swirling, teeth grazing the edge. Her hips jerk forward instinctively, her pussy clenching, a hot gush of slick leaking from her ass, trailing down her thigh. A moan-thin, desperate-slips through her lips before she can crush it.  *Nngh-!* 

At the soft sound of Magik’s moan, S'ym stops slapping her to pull her much more forcefully into the bear hug, harder then ever before-and then he quickly raises her up, bending his back, to slam her asshole down on his cock.The sudden shift is brutal for the poor girl. One moment, there’s the rhythm of pain and unwanted pleasure, the sting of her punished ass, the suck of his mouth on her nipple. Then nothing* No warning. No foreplay. S'ym’s entire body tightens* his tree-trunk arms clamping around her midsection like a vise forged in hell, crushing her ribs, flattening her abs, lifting her off the ground as he bends his back, arches his spine back-then drives down.  She doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late. His cock-thick and veined and flared-rams straight into her asshole. 

**“NNNNNGGHHHHHHAAAAAAA!!!! NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”**  The scream is primal and despairing. Her back seizes, her head snaps back against his shoulder, her mouth gapes wide as the thick, monstrous head of his cock literally punches past her clenched sphincter, tearing through resistance with inhuman strength. Only five inches breach her-but it feels like fifteen. The stretch is like fire. Her inner walls *spasm* in blind panic, clamping down in a futile, instinctive defense, only to be ripped*open wider by the ridges of his shaft. Her legs kick, thighs trembling, calves spasming even through her thigh-highs. 

“ You’re killing me-!”  She sobs, tears streaming, her face contorted, her breath coming in broken gasps.  “God-UNNHHH-pull it out! You’re-*UUUUHHHHNNNGGGG*

The moment her body arches in raw, agonized recoil from the brutal impalement-her scream tearing from her throat-S'ym’s mouth crashes down onto her left breast with predatory precision. Her nipple, already swollen and sensitive from earlier torment, is engulfed in a flash of heat and pressure. The impact of her scream makes her chest rise violently-but she cannot pull away. His mouth is a seal, his lips locked like a vise, his teeth already pressing into the tender areola as her breast is jolted*upward by the spasm of her spine. 

*UUUUHHHHNNNGGGG* Her scream distorts into a wet, gurgling shriek as her breast jiggles wildly inside his mouth-the sudden motion making her flesh slap against his palate, the nipple dragging hard across his sharp teeth, sending a fresh spike of pain radiating through her chest. The fullness of her teardrop shape is compressed as his jaw tightens, his tongue pressing up underneath, *mashing* the soft globe against the roof of his mouth. With every choked gasp, every convulsion of her ass around his cock, her breast shudders in his lips.

S'ym feels it all-the way her scream vibrates through her chest, rattling her breast inside his mouth like a living instrument of torment. Her sweat is sweet, notes, as he grinds*his teeth just enough to make her sob, “Mmm…”  He growls around her breast, the sound vibrating through her sensitive tissue, making her whimper.  “Such a voice you have…”

His teeth clamp harder. He sucks suddenly-deep, hard-pulling her entire breast deeper into his mouth, flattening it, consuming it as she bucks, as she screams, as her body tries to escape and only succeeds in feeding his arousal more.  “You don’t like it.” He releases her nipple with a wet, cruel pop, then bites down on the underside of her breast, marking it, making her shriek. “ Good. I don’t want you to like it. I want you to remember it. How your king claims you.”

The moment his tree-trunk arms flex-his massive frame tensing, his chest expanding, Magik knows what’s coming. There’s no surprise this time.. Just dread. Her breath hitches-short, panicked-as his arms lift her again, her body suspended in the air, her all almost free of his cock, her sphincter stretched wide, pulsing in helpless, twitching resistance.  And then-down. He slams her onto him with even greater force, driving deeper-another thick inch, then another, until ten brutal inches of his monstrous cock are buried in her quivering, violated ass. The stretch is worse than before-not just because of the girth, but because her body remembers, fights, fails. 

**“AAAAAGH-NO! NO! NO-!!”**  

Her scream rips from her throat like a beast being flayed alive. Her back arches violently, her head whipping back, her fingers clawing at his arms with the last of her strength. Her legs kick once, then lock-muscles rigid, tendons standing like cables-as her ass is forced to accept him, her inner walls tearing open, her body trembling not just from pain, but from the impossibility of what he is doing to her. And then-his mouth also slams down-onto her right breast.  His lips seal over her nipple, his teeth immediately pressing into the areola. She tries to pull away. But the sensations are too much-the deep, burning stretch in her ass, the sudden, wet heat of his mouth, the sharp bite of his teeth all collide at once,overloading her nerves. Her breast jiggles violently in his mouth as she jerks, as she screams, as her chest heaves with ragged, broken breaths. 

“You… you monster!” Her voice is a mix of sob, curse, and plea. Her eyes fill with tears streaking her face.  “I’ll… I’ll kill you for this… I’ll-*AH!*-I’ll flay*you alive-!”  And then, quieter… “It’s too much…” 

His words drip like poisoned honey-soft, sweet, mocking. “Awww… if it’s too much… I can do something about that.” The moment he speaks, he releases her-both arms falling away from her midsection, the crushing pressure gone, his tail loosening around her throat just enough to let her breathe freely. But freedom is an illusion. She’s still speared on his monstrous cock, ten brutal inches buried in her quivering ass, her body trembling atop him like a broken bowstring.  He doesn’t move a muscle. He simply watches-red eyes blazing with sadistic hunger-as gravity takes its course.And slowly-inevitably-she sinks

“OOOOAAHHHHH!! GOOOOD! NNNOOOOOUGGGHHHHHH” 

 Another inch. Then another. Her body slides down his shaft with a wet, helpless slide, her sphincter fluttering in protest, her inner walls stretching wider than they were ever meant to, the thick ridges of his cock pressing deep into uncharted territory. A fresh scream tears from her lips as the torn fabric of her form-fitting booty shorts in both her holes shift with every brutal inch of his cock driving deeper into her rectum. Each thrust *grinds* the fabric against her most sensitive nerves, the edges abrading raw flesh, the bulk of it pressing from within like a second invasion. 

Every forward roll pushes one clump of fabric deeper into her pussy, the sudden pressure making her scream anew, her hips jerking as if trying to flee, but going nowhere. Her hands hesitate as they begin to reach for him, but she refuses, instead clawing impotently at the air, at her own thighs, at nothing, as if searching for something to stop the descent that won’t be a surrender to S'ym. There is none.  

He leans back slightly, hands resting on his own thighs, observing a fallen queen. His gaze roams her body-her still-vibrant teardrop breasts, now marked with his nibbles,  swaying with every shudder, the dusky pink of her nipples glistening with his saliva and her own sweat. Her flat, toned stomach-now twitching in helpless spasms, her abs flexing as if trying to push him out. Her perfect heart-shaped face-twisted in a mask of utter agony and despair, tears streaking her cheeks, her green eyes wide with the horror of what her body is being forced through. 

But even now, Magik resists. She attempts to strike him, raising her elbow to drive it into his jaw, but the movement triggers a deep, agonizing stretch in her ass, her inner walls fluttering around him as she strains, and the strike falls short, her arm trembling. Magik realizes she can’t fully commit to a strike against S'ym without literally rearranging her guts, but still she tries. Her clenched fists pound at his chest in rapid, staccato bursts. Short, sharp jabs from the shoulder, no follow-through, no momentum, just raw, furious repetition. 

“No wonder you rose to rule this place…” His voice is a low, rumbling growl-thick with admiration and darker intent.  “Every strike, every twitch, every clench of that tight little ass-fighting me like a wild thing… only made you ride me harder. “ 

Slowly, deliberately, he tightens his grip on her toned waist-fingers spreading over the soft, sweat-slick skin of her sides, thumbs pressing into the supple, firm muscle just above her hips. His touch is possessive, reverent, inescapable. With controlled strength, he begins to pull her up-inch by inch-her ass stretching *tighter* around his ridges as she’s dragged off him, the thick shaft glistening with her blood, her juices, a few tattered remnants of her shredded shorts now clinging to his length like war trophies.

His left hand snaps to her right breast-fingers closing around the firm, teardrop globe with brutal possession, squeezing just shy of pain, using it as leverage to hold her in place. At the same time, his right hand clamps around her jaw, thick fingers forcing her mouth open before he drives three meaty digits deep into her throat. She gags instantly, her eyes watering, her neck arching as he stuffs her mouth, using her own tongue as a fulcrum, her lips stretched around his knuckles. And then he moves. No tease. No mercy. His hips explode upward-six massive inches of thick, veined cock slamming into her tight, resisting pussy with one savage thrust. Her body jerks, her spine bowing, her breasts jolting as the force rams through her. Her scream is muffled-choked around his fingers, erupting as a wet, broken cry that echoes off the black trees.

Her inner walls spasm wildly, trying to reject the sudden invasion, but he holds her down with his hand on her breast, his fingers in her mouth, his cock buried to the hilt inside her womb. “You take me so well, even when you hate it,” he growls, his voice dark with satisfaction, his red eyes locked on her tear-streaked face. He grinds deep, making her whimper, her thighs trembling, her hands clawing at his wrist, her nails scraping skin. The shredded remnants of her shorts shift inside her pussy, adding pressure, friction, humiliation. 

For the next ten minutes, S'ym is a god in his own personal heaven-as his monstrous cock drives deeper into her tight, unwilling pussy, inch by brutal inch, the resistance only heightening the ecstasy. Her inner walls clamp around him like a fist, her womb flinching with each forward surge, each impact making her breasts jolt, her head snap back, her voice tear from her throat in choked, gagging cries. His left hand leaves her right breast-reddened from his grip-and moves to the left, taking hold with the same possessive force, spreading the strain across her torso, ensuring neither side bears the full weight of her suspension. He squeezes, kneads, claims, using her flesh as leverage to pull her down harder onto his cock, making her take more, until nearly eight inches of him are buried in her quivering, clenching hole. Meanwhile, his right hand shifts from the depths of her mouth to a more vicious control-his thick fingers curling around her tongue, gripping it like a handle, pulling it forward as he thrusts deeper into her throat. 

She gags violently, tears flooding her eyes, her neck muscles straining as he denies her breath, using her own flesh as a tether to force her head back, her spine arched, her body fully exposed, fully impaled. Saliva spills from the corners of her mouth, dripping onto his wrist, her whimpers muffled, her defiance reduced to fluttering eyelids and clawing fingers. 

“You were never meant to rule,” he growls, watching her suffer, her pussy still fighting him, her body refusing to welcome him even as it’s forced to hold him. You were meant to choke on my hand while my cock splits your womb open.” He thrusts  deeply into Magik at this, his pelvis slamming against her pubic mound, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing across the black stone, mixing with her muffled screams, the distant lava hissing in time with his rhythm. 

It takes exactly seven minutes of relentless, brutal fucking-seven minutes of pounding thrusts, of her muffled screams, of her body trembling on the edge of collapse-before the final inch slips in. His cock, twelve inches of thick, veined, flared demonic flesh, is now fully buried in her tight, unwilling pussy. The base of his shaft presses against her swollen labia, his pelvic bone grinding against her clit with every deep roll of his hips. The moment he hits the deepest part of her womb, she screams onto his fingers, so violently even his bones feel it. Her womb flinches around the tip of his cock, pulsing in panic, burning*from the impossible stretch. Her legs jerk-knees buckling, then locking again as she tries to stay upright, but it’s useless. Without his hand on her breast and his fingers gripping her tongue, she would have collapsed long ago. Her free hand flies to her lower stomach, fingers pressing hard into her own abdomen as if she could push him out from the outside. Her face is a mask of agony-tears streaming, lips pulled back from her teeth, her green eyes wide with horror and hate. 

His hands finally retreat-from her breast, from her tongue, from the raw, violated spaces they’ve dominated. But the relief is a lie as he shifts to a cruel mimicry of affection. One massive hand glides up her trembling spine, fingers spreading wide as they find the deep, lean dimples just above her ass-the elegant musculature of her lower back, forged by battle, now reduced to texture beneath his touch. He presses into the hollows with knowing pressure, a lover’s caress from a defiler’s hand. The other rises to the base of her neck, thick fingers pressing on the strong column of her throat, And then, in one fluid, devastating motion, both arms pull her body, slamming her forward against his chest in a brutal parody of an embrace. Her hips drive down, forcing her pussy lips to grind even more against the base of S'ym’s cock, the motion forcing a deep, involuntary clench as he grinds inside her. Her firm breasts crush against his broad chest, her nipples rubbing against his coarse skin with every trapped breath.

He rolls his hips slow, deep, making her womb pulse around him, her breath hitching as her body is forced to ride him through the motion of an embrace. His hand on her lower back presses harder, arching her spine, making her take him at a deeper angle, while his grip on her neck tilts her head slightly-exposing her throat, forcing her gaze upward.  

Magik hates it the way it feels like an embrace. Hates the way her body responds. Her stomach subconsciously begins to roll against him before she mentally stops it. Her fingers claw at his arms, nails scraping muscle, but there is no leverage, no escape. She cannot twist. Cannot pull away. Cannot even lower her head to hide. She is held open in every way-and she knows it. 

S'ym begins to rotate his cock deep inside her, twisting the thick shaft in tight, controlled motions, ensuring every ridge, every veined curve drags against the sensitive walls of her womb, as if mapping it for his cock. At the same time, his tail rises, its tapered tip pressing against her abused asshole, still raw from earlier penetration. Her anal ring clenches in panic.

But he is patient. He will have both holes. He will have all of her. His hand on her neck tightens, fingers tangling in her bright blonde hair, pulling just enough to tilt her head to the side-exposing the long line of her throat. He lowers his mouth to her neck and begins to nibble-sharp, wet teeth grazing the tendon, then pressing harder, marking her, tasting her sweat, her fury, her fear. His lips trail to her cheek, nuzzling, kissing with mock tenderness, the contrast between his actions and his violence more degrading than any slap. 

S'ym’s demon physiology knows-soon, in a minute or two, he will climax in her. And he wants her aware and terrified. Wants her to know, seconds before it happens, that she cannot stop it. Cannot escape it. He tightens his grip on her hair, yanking her head back harder, exposing her throat fully as his teeth drag across her pulse point. His tail presses firmer against her asshole-still not entering, just claiming the rim, making her clench in dread. And deep inside her, his cock swells-thicker, longer, the veins pulsing as his rotation grows slower, heavier, more deliberate, each turn of his shaft pressing against the most sensitive walls of her womb. 

“I’ve been inside you for over an hour of your earth time. I’ve split your ass. I’ve stuffed you with your own clothes. I’ve held you like a lover just to feel every bit of you. I’ve made your body scream against. And now… now I’m going to fill you.”

 His tail finally pushes in-just the tip breaching her tight, abused sphincter-and she screams, the sound more exquisite as S'ym’s hand keeps her head yanked back by her silky blonde hair. S'ym gets a good look at her-more beautiful now than ever, her face strained with pain and despair. She knows what’s coming. He bends over her, his massive frame folding forward, his chest pressing hard against hers, his cock still buried deep in her womb, pulsing with the slow, inevitable rise of his release. His face hovers just above hers-red eyes locking onto green-before he crushes his mouth to hers in a violent, claiming kiss. His tongue invades her mouth the same way his cock invades her pussy. He tastes her helplessness and revels in it. He drinks it in like wine. 

His cock pistons into her womb, thick and unrelenting, each thrust driving her deeper onto his length, her body jolting with every impact. His tail embeds itself in her ass, its scaled shaft pulsing as it spreads her open, forcing her to take him on both ends at once. She screams into his mouth, her cries muffled as he devours them, his tongue claiming hers just as his cock claims her pussy, just as his seed prepares to claim her womb. 

She tries to teject-but he only slams into her with more inhuman force, his hands still gripping her hair and lower back, holding her in place, forcing her to absorb every stroke. And then-he explodes. A guttural roar tears from his throat as his cock swells to its limit inside her. The first jet hits the deepest part of her womb like a blast of molten fire, thick and powerful, flooding her in an instant. The second follows immediately, then the third, each pulse hotter, heavier, more invasive than the last. His seed surges into her in relentless waves, filling her beyond capacity, stretching her from the inside, the pressure building until she feels it in her ribs, in her throat, in the very core of her being. Her moan of pain is buried by his suffocating kiss, her eyes flying wide, her breasts forcibly pressed hard against him, her nipples abrading his skin with every shudder, every pulse of his cock. A low, broken sound escapes her throat-not a moan, not a cry, but something between surrender and agony.

Even as his cock remains buried deep in her twitching, oversensitive pussy, his seed still seeping from her stretched entrance, S'ym moves with deliberate cruelty. His hand slips from the back of her neck to seize her crown on her forehead, the dark circlet that marks her as ruler of Limbo. With a sharp twist, he yanks it free, the metal tearing slightly at her skin, a thin line of blood welling at her hairline. With both hands, he wraps the cold iron band around her throat and begins to squeeze. The jagged edges press into her skin, biting into the delicate flesh of her neck Her breath cuts violently short as she tries to pull in air. Her eyes fly open, green blazing with shock and fury, her hands trying to grasp the crown at her throat, but stopped by his bear hug. After several minutes. her legs jerk. Her pussy clenches around his still-buried cock, a reflexive spasm of panic. Her face flushes, her lips parting on a silent gasp, her chest heaving against his, her body trembling in the aftermath of violation and now, strangulation.

Before Magik chokes to death, he releases his grip, forcing her to heave, dazed and exhausted, her gulping breaths forcing more of her perfect body to rub against his. S'ym holds her like a trophy-his arms locked tighter than ever against her midriff, his chest fused to her chest, his thick, veined cock buried to the hilt in her ass, stretching her wide, grinding deep with every slow, possessive thrust. She can’t move. Can’t escape. Can’t even scream-her breath comes in short, desperate gasps, her spine arched against him, her head lolling in a state of automatic reflex, struggling for air.

He has plans for his former queen-such beautiful, dark plans.

“Strip her.”