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The Gamer Chapter 1846 – Nympholympics 10 – Princess Play Set-up
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 16:57:47 +0000 UTCJohn Newman was known under many titles. Mind Breaker, the goblins and catgirls had dubbed him, after he had conquered their lands with his hypnotic powers. Archer of Spines, he had been dubbed by the golem people, who had been driven before his mighty host. Dragonrider, many called him, for no other had a black dragon to call his steed. Fire Tamer, Ocean Parter, Storm Stirrer, Shadow Dweller, Earth Shaker, all of those and many more were his titles. Day to day, the sovereign of the Dark Empire preferred a simpler title.
Tyrant.
The noises of the crowd were drowned out by the thick castle walls. John preferred it that way. The last thing he wanted to think about was the voice of that herald, Jeff, while he went ahead and did what he had been gifted the opportunity to do.
John descended a short staircase and then he was in the depths of the dungeon. Orbs swirled around him, allowing distant subordinates of his to follow his every move. A measure he had agreed to, for he wanted the world to see what happened next.
A closed dungeon door awaited him. He pushed it open with a half-leaping step, his enthusiasm too great to be halted by the creaking barrier. Rusted hinges screamed, then he slammed the door shut behind him with a reverberating, dull thud. He stepped forwards, his expensive shoes meeting uneven cobblestone.
The tyrant clapped his hands and magic obeyed. Crystals on either side of the room came to life with the flicker of cheap enchantments. It took many seconds before their artificial light crept to the centre of the damp dungeon chamber. “I am certain you are used to better,” he said, smugly. “Alas, you are now just another slave-to-be.”
Chains rustled. They were the only expensive thing in the dungeon chamber, for rusted cuffs would not have done for his prize. For all his demeaning words, John did not want his prize damaged by poorly crafted or rusted confinements.
The light revealed her feet first. Naked things, the shoes no doubt kicked off during some futile fight, that barely touched the ground. Her skirt was torn, revealing much of her thighs. The tyrant whistled, looking at them. The thickness of the princess had not been understated, nor the unique tint of blue to her pale skin, hinting at a divine lineage. A lineage her hips could very well continue.
The dress clung tightly to her midriff and medium-sized breasts, sitting with the firmness of custom-tailored clothing. It was blue with golden highlights. A white neck ornament, made from expensive satin, covered her skin halfway up her neck. Her arms were visible, courtesy of being forcefully raised by the chains she hung from.
Finally, the crystals were at full power, giving enough light to the room that the head of the slave-to-be was fully visible. Her hair was long, white at the base and down to her chin. Past that point, it swiftly transitioned into a bright blue colour, yet another sign of her divine bloodline. Her face was gorgeous, despite the nervous resentment that contorted her features.
“I am a princess! You-” she barked at her captor, biting back cruder words, unbecoming of a lady’s mouth. She balanced on her toes, rubbing her thighs together in the process. “Your deeds will not be forgotten, vile tyrant!”
He chuckled and reached out. She tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. His fingers combed through her hair before long. She let out a trembling breath, rage easily misunderstood as excitement. He laughed again, while feeling the waves of her hair. “So thoroughly combed,” he complimented. “Put into waves with great effort no doubt – and that is a fine crown braid.” He felt the expert make of the bundled and woven hair. “All of it proof of the status you had until this morning.” He suddenly grabbed her by the back of the head, pulling her close. Against his chest, it was clear how much shorter she was. Even standing on her toes, she did not come up to his chin. “You were a princess, Eliana, but now you are just meat.” He stared into her eyes, his evil smirk falling for a moment when he was absorbed by their beauty. “Like shattered amethysts… the eyes of an angel…”
“Wha-“ Eliana recoiled as best she could.
The tyrant let her, taking a half step away. “The bards sang about your beauty. I believed half of them, after I had broken their minds. They spoke of the nobility in your soul, the smoothness of your skin, the fullness of your lips-”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Eliana shouted, trying to kick at him. “Every compliment from your mouth makes me cringe as if a million cockroaches are crawling into my holes!”
John raised an eyebrow, doubly amused by the outburst. “Such dirty words, how unbecoming of a lady of high birth.” The rebuke made the princess go lax in her chains. “Alas, as I said, you are no longer a princess. Your father’s kingdom has fallen to me, the men drafted into my armies and the women… ah, you know very well what fate awaits you.”
“I will not be your… grovelling pet!” the princess declared.
“Ah, but you will be,” said the tyrant. “My methods have been proven thoroughly. By the time I am done with you, you will beg to be bred – and I will oblige. I will join our lines, over and over again, and each time you grow gravid with my child, the only words on your lips will be, ‘Thank you, Master.’ You are meat to be fucked. A breeding slave, ready to be made.”
The princess shuddered, in disgust perhaps. She opened her mouth in retort, only for the door behind the tyrant to fly open. He turned, directing his gaze at the fire born women that entered.
“Beloved Nathalia,” he greeted.
“John,” she responded haughtily. The tall, curvaceous woman was, as always, covered by nothing more than a layer of black scales, orange glowing between the gaps. Even those scarcely hid much. A wide, V-shaped gap from shoulders to groin left most of her huge tits and sculpted midriff exposed. There, above her pussy, was the mark of the tyrant. The heart-shaped seal proved to all that the redheaded dragoness was his property.
A status that did not prevent her from taking a demanding tone with him.
“I did you the favour of capturing the princess and yet you approach her without me,” she stated and sashayed slowly towards him, hindered by what she was dragging along with her.
“I was simply too eager,” he answered.
“Ehtra!” Eliana shouted out in surprise.
John first glanced at her, smirking as a tyrant assured of victory would do, then at the woman in question. She was what slowed Nathalia, who dragged her along by her white hair. She was of even darker skin than the dragonette. The fire in the former maid’s eyes was twofold. One was rage, the other lust.
“To drag me before my princess, you know no honour, tyrannical creature!”
“Honour… honour is for the white knight who saves a single princess. My desires are much, much greater than that.” The tyrant’s eyes roamed over Ehtra’s naked curves. She was not allowed to wear clothes, given her lowly state. “Now stop this pathetic act. You’re here to help me break your princess.”
Those words fanned the smouldering flame of rage within the servant. She tore herself free from Nathalia’s grip, whirling to her feet with her back to the princess. “I will never help you break her!” she announced defiantly.
John laughed, watching the servant’s tits bounce. Her fighting posture only elevated her attractiveness. She was toned and curved in equal measure. “The king chose you wisely when he assigned you to the princess. You’re beautiful, as a maid to the heiress should be, and strong. Your loyalty is remarkable.”
“Cease your chatter and release us!” Eliana shouted in from the background, straining against the chains.
“Better yet, kill them,” Nathalia remarked, leisurely checking the claws of the hand that had held Ehtra, as if to see if she had clipped a nail. “What do you need the angelic princess for? Your heirs already will have the blood of the black dragon. There is no need for more.”
“There is every need for more,” John growled. “I will sire a hundred dynasties and scatter them across the dimensions. The work I cannot complete in one lifetime, my heirs will continue, until the Dark Empire stretches from the highest heavens to the deepest hells.”
“You wish to breed me so that your children can storm the heavens…?” Eliana realized.
“Indeed, ‘princess’,” he used the word mockingly, to underline just how hollow of a title it was now. “Now, if you wish to stop me that eagerly…” He reached out, his hand disappearing in the air before returning, now holding a sword. The weapon was of fine make and shimmered gold in the dim light of the cheap magical crystals. “…I shall provide you with the sword of Saint Alabasta herself.” A simple toss delivered the armament to Ehtra. “Strike me down, then, or my lust will turn to your princess.”
He opened his arms wide and awaited the attack. Ehtra looked at the heavy, holy weapon in her hands, then glared at him. “For the princess!” she yelled, amping herself up before charging the short distance. She swung the weapon overhead, building up as much momentum as she could. It was a sloppy strike, unbecoming of a warrior. Momentum almost made the blade fall onto the tyrant’s head – yet it stopped.
John’s smile grew wider, looking at the keen edge hovering mere centimetres from his forehead. “You are strong of will, Ehtra. The job of a maid was wasted on you.”
“I live to serve my princess and her bloodline…” Ehtra mewled, her defiance draining away as rage was replaced with desire in her eyes.
“Do not worry…” He pushed the weapon aside with a casual brush. “As my general, you and your bloodline will serve Eliana and her children again.” He leaned forwards, whispering in her ear, “Imagine it. Licking my cum out of your princess after you return from the great conquests in her name. You will fight the gods themselves to lay to her feet the very kingdom of heaven. Every day will be glory and bliss and your own children will be the greatest warriors the world will ever know.”
“Y-your words do not sway me,” she stuttered, all while blushing like a bitch in heat.
“Do they not?” John reached downwards to feel the exposed cunt of the servant. “Then why do I find your cunt ready and dripping?”
“Y-your dark magic-”
“Only emphasizes what is there already,” he interrupted her. “I told you before – but perhaps I should remind you directly.”
He mashed his lips on hers. In the first second, the servant went rigid. After that, she gradually relaxed as memories and pleasure flooded through her system. Her sword arm lowered bit by bit, until it hung limply from her side. Loudly, the holy artefact clattered on the ground. Not a second later, Ehtra’s hands held onto the collar of the tyrant’s elaborate outfit instead, pushing her feminine softness against him. Their kiss was so heated it could be heard, the wrestling of their tongues mixing with the muffled cries of a woman at the edge of sanity.
“W-what is the meaning of this?!” Eliana shouted.
Nathalia mockingly blew flames out of her nose, then walked up to the bound princess. “What are you surprised for?” she asked, expertly cupping the chin of the other woman between her razor-sharp claws. “We captured you four hours ago. Do you think we were inactive during that time? Your servant has already altered her loyalties.”
“T-that cannot be true!” Eliana stated. “I just saw all of that… She… she remains loyal to me and the house.”
Nathalia rolled her eyes. “Cease tasting the spit of your new pet and show your divine broodmare the truth.”
The kiss broke with John chuckling darkly. He gazed at the face of the servant, every bit of defiance melted from her gorgeous features, replaced with a placid acceptance and desire to be used more. “Show her, in every detail, what your loyalties are.” A final shadow of reluctance flashed over her face, eliminated when the tyrant gave her plump, chocolate rear a smack so intense it bounced off the cobblestone walls. The ripple went down to her thighs and the moan surfaced from the depths of her throat. “Now.”
“Yes… Master…” she muttered under her breath, still loud enough for Eliana to hear. The eyes of the princess widened, as her personal servant and bodyguard turned around. Prominently displayed above her womb was the mark of the tyrant. A different version of it, certainly, but his mark all the same. “I’m sorry, princess,” she said, her voice bereft of regret. All that filled her words was the indulgent pleasure of being found out. “The Master showed me the world of pleasure already… I tried to fight for you but… he is right!” She half turned, reaching behind him to undo the clasp of his belt. Pants fell, allowing his hard cock to bounce free. “The pleasure of serving him is too great! I am loyal, princess, and the greatest betrayal would be to deny you this… this bli-aaaaaahhh-ss!”
Ehtra’s eyes rolled up as she slipped her Master’s cock inside. The tyrant’s mark multiplied the pleasure, making her giggle with intense delight as another orgasm turned her brain to mush.
“Truly, I have to acknowledge her willpower!” John stated and grabbed Ehtra’s neck from behind. The strangling only elevated the pleasure of the warrior woman. Her knees wobbled, barely keeping her upright while he ploughed her from behind. That fat ass of hers moved in sinful waves, a sight more sublime than any hoard of treasure. “Few have managed to retain their mind after I show them true bliss. Truly, she is worthy of serving in my personal harem – where she will continue to be a servant of yours as well.”
“This is not the kind of servitude I want!” the princess screeched. “This is fucked up!” The corners of her lips twitched upwards. “I hate it!
“Again, with the crass language!” John reprimanded her. “You will be free to speak like the slut you are before long, Eliana. Once I have shown you this pleasure, you will understand that this is the best way to live – isn’t that right, slave?”
“Yeee-e-essshhh!” Ehtra shouted, now completely reduced to being his toy to play with.
John would have loved to indulge in her more, now that he had reduced her to this state. Alas, Ehtra was not the focal point of the scene, so he kept it nice and short. He hammered her as quickly as he could, racing towards his orgasm.
Nathalia sashayed around Eliana, now holding the bound princess from behind. “That is what is in store for you,” she whispered just loud enough to overpower the sound of rough lovemaking. “Do not worry. Sex with John is enlightening. You consider it a mark of slavery…” the dragoness’ fingers caressed the surface of the dress above where the mark would be, “…in reality, it’s a mark of illumination. He can only place it on those that desire it, you know?”
“I-impossible! Ehtra would never break without dark magics!”
“Your naivety is adorable.” Nathalia squeezed one of Eliana’s breasts, making her gasp lewdly. “Already you moan, when all I do is tease you. You do not know pleasure. What can your own fingers do compared to a Master and a Mistress that know what they are doing? You will be dripping wet when you beg for the mark, to be shown even greater pleasure.”
“I would never-“
“You will,” Nathalia interrupted, grabbing the cunt of the bound princess through the torn skirt. “You are fuckable meat. John desires you to breed a dynasty. Unnecessary, if you ask me, but I will oblige his fantasies.”
“You’re just another slave.”
Nathalia snorted derisively. “Again, you demonstrate that you know nothing. Watch your once and future servant and tell me if she looks like she is being coerced.”
Eliana stared at Ehtra and John. The tyrant was rutting into the dark-skinned woman, causing her to gush over and over again. “H-how can one woman climax so much…?”
“Now you are starting to ask the right questions,” John said and thrust into Ehtra one more time. He stared into Eliana’s eyes, while his cock throbbed inside the servant, pumping load after load of baby batter into her. Ehtra convulsed where she stood, squirting aggressively over the stone floor. Her tongue hung from parted lips, her expression made utterly silly by the pleasure wiping her mind. “You will find out the answers soon enough.”
He pulled out, leaving Ehtra to slump to the floor, and began to walk towards Eliana.
