“Black Reign”
When Rhea passed out, she really didn’t expect to wake up again. She opened her eyes in a state of complete bemusement, looking at the starship Nora’s small common area with a furrowed brow, trying to figure out why she was still alive.
Her last memories were mostly a confusion of sound. She remembered hearing the soft hum of the ship’s warp drive suddenly escalate into a shriek that was cut off by a thunderous bang, then the loud whoosh of a wind that pinned her hard against her seat for a moment before the automatic doors slammed shut. The sound that followed sounded like an alert klaxon going off a vast distance away, and Rhea only had time to realize that it was the oxygen monitors frantically warning her that the ship was down to less than ten percent of its usable atmosphere, and the reason that it sounded so far away was because its sound was attenuated by the thin air, before...nothing.
And now she was awake. And breathing fine. Which was a relief, but also something of a puzzle. The Nora was too small to have a functioning atmosphere generator, and its tanks weren’t really designed to hold enough air to replenish the ship after losing ninety percent of its supply. Even if the ship’s AS evacuated every other room just to fill the common area, Rhea was pretty sure she shouldn’t be under a full atmosphere of pressure. And there was no way in hell they were close enough to a planet to scoop up breathable air. They were easily three months from the middle of nowhere even on full warp.
First things first, Rhea decided. She pulled herself to her feet and went over to the Reflexive Imaging Scanner Kiosk. She stepped inside and did a full cycle of scans, checking herself out to make sure that she hadn’t suffered any more ill effects than expected from a period of possibly sustained oxygen deprivation. The full-body mirror inside the RISK showed her blood vessels—slight pooling in the back and thighs consistent with minor contusions. She switched the view to her nervous system—no significant loss of brain cells, so she couldn’t have been out that long. She’d seen worse damage after a night of drinking. She checked her skeleton; no damage—thank goodness for the seat cushions. Finally she switched to cosmetic view. Her skin was dark enough to hide the bruising, but Rhea knew she was going to feel it for a while. Even her breasts hurt where the force of depressurization squashed them against her body. She noticed a few burst blood vessels around her dark brown eyes, but nothing that required medical attention.
She bound up her dark curly hair tightly in a ponytail, and headed aft—for all of three seconds. When she got to the aft door that led back to the sleeping compartments and the engineering bay, the access icon glowed cherry red and refused to respond to her touch. Which meant that only the forward compartments were capable of holding pressurization. Rhea’s heart sank. Isaac had been in the aft hold when the explosion happened.
She decided to mourn him when she was sure she wasn’t going to join him. Her lips tight, Rhea turned and headed to the cockpit to find out just what the hell had happened to him.
Unsurprisingly, it was a mess of warning lights. The Artificial Stupidity wasn’t up to deciding how to prioritize the non-essential repairs, which was frankly just how most spacers liked it. Let a computer start telling you what to do, and the next thing you knew you were ripping its personality core out while joining it in a duet of ‘Daisy Daisy’. Rhea decided when she was first fitting the Nora that it was much better to have a very sophisticated dumb computer than one that was actually smart.
In this case, it had both saved Rhea’s life and nearly killed her in the first place. According to the system logs, the warp engines had encountered a spatial anomaly that warped space in an interference pattern to their direction of travel. The non-sentient automatic pilot had tried to compensate by boosting power, but the turbulence increased too quickly for even computer reflexes to cope. It overloaded the engines and blew them out hard enough to rip a hole halfway along the ship’s hull, venting ninety percent of the oxygen in under five seconds before the ship could seal the undamaged compartments.
Isaac’s vital signs cut out at the moment of the explosion. Rhea closed her eyes for a moment, blinking back the sting of tears.
When she opened them again, it was to scroll through the system messages and find out how she survived. The logs indicated that they had dropped back into normal space somewhere in the interstellar void in the Cygnus arm of the Milky Way. The nearest star was some twenty parsecs away, the nearest inhabitable planet more than a hundred. They were an incalculable distance from even the most distant reaches of human civilization...but less than thirty seconds away by sublight from a nearby spaceship.
That spaceship saved her life. The Nora sent out a distress signal, and the other ship responded with a computer-generated message indicating that it had surplus oxygen in its tanks. Nora siphoned it off to replenish its losses, and according to the sensors, she was still hooked up to it now. Rhea decided to check the ID on her unexpected savior.
What she saw chilled her blood faster than the vacuum of space. The ship was a Kaiju-class exploration vessel, the kind of massive starship that money-grubbing star-mappers like Rhea and Isaac wouldn’t be able to afford in a million years. It was registered as the Acharius, and flagged as belonging to BioHarvest Technologies, Incorporated.
BioHarvest. Even two hundred years after the company was forcibly dissolved, Rhea could still feel her skin pebbling into goosebumps at the thought of being this close to a BioHarvest research ship. Of course, what they called “research” was little more than disorganized plunder of alien biospheres, trawling well beyond the reach of established star charts and grabbing anything that looked interesting for later study. They were notoriously secretive, devastatingly callous in their treatment of their employees, and shockingly careless in their safety protocols. There was no telling what that ship contained, but given that it had been sitting out here for at least two hundred years, ‘a living crew’ was probably not on the list. No wonder it had air to spare.
Luckily, Rhea didn’t have to go in. The hull breach was bad, but nothing she couldn’t patch with a full supply of oxygen and a couple of weeks of EVA excursions. The warp drives were shredded, but she could melt the parts down and run them back through the fabricator to reassemble the whole thing piece by piece if she needed to. Star-mapping wasn’t a job for people who weren’t self-reliant. Or sentimental either, she told herself, pushing Isaac to the back of her mind again.
She studied the sensors again. There were a few other starships nearby, but all of them looked as dead as the Nora almost wound up. They probably ran into the same interference she did, and didn’t have the same luck. Whatever was out there, Rhea knew she’d have to get outside its influence before she tried to go back into warp.
Still, that wasn’t too bad. Nora was a nippy little thing even in sublight. Once Rhea had everything functioning again, she could just ramp up the maneuvering engines to a tenth of lightspeed and book it away from the crazy starship graveyard. It would only take her...Rhea put the AS to work doing calculations. After a moment, it responded with the data.
Seventy-five years of transit. At top speed. That was how long it would take to get away from the spatial interference. Spatial interference, the stupid computer informed her, that was being directly generated by the Kaiju-class warp engines of the Acharius, using its eternium generators. Key word being ‘eternium’.
Grimly, Rhea instructed the Nora to dock. Then she went looking for her EVA suit.
Rhea went halfway down the docking tunnel three times before she actually made it to the Acharius’ airlock. She kept checking and rechecking the seals on her ship, making sure that there wasn’t even a micron-sized gap for something toxic and horrible to get through. As it was, she planned to spend a little time in the void of space soaking up hard radiation before returning to the Nora, just to kill anything that might be clinging to her after her trip into the fucking mad scientist’s paradise on the other end of the tube.
When she finally made it all the way to the other end, Rhea stood for a long moment, psyching herself up to open the airlock. She couldn’t stop thinking about the story of the Blackburn, crashed on Pharos Delta with a payload of flesh-devouring insects. Or the Fleming, forced into a star by InterGov authorities to prevent the crew from spreading a debilitating plague. Or the Newcombe, which spent three days docked at Corvus Beacon before anyone realized why the crewmembers never opened their mouths. Or the Savigny, which why the hell was she going inside this damn thing anyway?
Because the warp drives couldn’t be disabled from outside the ship without getting fried by hard radiation. Because the Nora didn’t have any weaponry she could use to blow the damned thing up. Because she didn’t want to spend the next seventy-five years of her life in the same three rooms. With a deep breath, Rhea pressed the access button for the airlock.
Once she was inside, there was a long pause as atmosphere cycled into the room. Rhea had no intention of breathing any of it—she was using her EVA gear as an improvised bio-hazard suit—but she did a quick analysis of it. Fresh and clean, straight from the atmosphere generators. Kaiju class had its advantages. She allowed herself a trifling second to fantasize about decontaminating the whole ship, top to bottom, and coming home in charge of the single largest salvage haul of the last century, but then the inner door opened and she was too busy freaking the fuck out to daydream.
The second the door opened, a thin black sludge spilled out into the airlock, covering Rhea’s boots with a sloshing wave of gunk as it rushed into the room. It was faintly iridescent, sort of like the sheen on a puddle of oil, but it sure as hell wasn’t hydrocarbons. Rhea’s scanner choked up and died trying to analyze it. She didn’t bother rebooting; instead, she lifted up her boot, just to make sure that it wasn’t eating through the fabric of her suit. It didn’t seem to be acidic, but it clung like ashy mud or dark syrup. She decided she didn’t want to stick around to find out what else it did. Time to get her ass in gear.
Inside, the stuff was practically ubiquitous, spraying down from the corridor’s fire suppression lines in a steady drizzle of dark mist. It reminded Rhea of trips to the pet store as a kid, seeing the amphibians basking in a stream of artificial fog to keep their skin moist. The fluid collected in puddles along the hallway and flowed through the drainage vents below with a slurping sound that Rhea really wished she couldn’t hear. She moved forwards at top speed, relying on her helmet lights to show her the way through the greasy fog.
Her original plan was simple. Go directly to the cockpit, shut down the engines, go directly back, get the fuck out. The black slime complicated things, though. Rhea didn’t want to risk letting even a drop of it on board without knowing exactly what it was. She decided to disengage the docking tunnel remotely, and spacewalk between the two ships. It held a little risk, but she’d rather take the guaranteed risk of the vacuum over the terrifying question mark of the contaminant that was everywhere in the Acharius. She didn’t have to know what it was—the stuff just looked creepy. It seemed to absorb whatever light she shined onto it, but Rhea kept seeing those oily rainbows at the edge of her vision no matter where she looked. The sooner she got to the cockpit, the better.
Rhea got to the cockpit. It was not better.
The cockpit was sealed. Full on, bio-containment sealed. The cold-hearted motherfuckers who ran BioHarvest skimped on a lot of things, but they made damn sure that no matter what happened to the crew, the pilot would be able to lock themselves in and fly their precious cargo of specimens back home. The door was pure mondilium, and the ancient remains of a few bodies along with a few pieces of long-disused cutting equipment told her that someone had already literally spent a lifetime trying to get in without success. Rhea wasn’t sure which terrified her more, the thought of someone fruitlessly trying to gain access until they died where they fell or the thought of the person inside that cockpit deciding to set the warp engines to destroy any chance of anyone ever getting out of this sector of space.
Because that was the only reason to perform this particular kind of sabotage. They didn’t just want to make sure that the Acharius didn’t leave. They wanted to make sure that the black ooze never left. Whoever set the engines to resonate spacetime the way they did wanted to make sure that a trip to the Acharius was a one-way journey even if they died of old age in there. That was definitely scarier.
But Rhea wasn’t ready to die here, no matter what the long-dead pilot thought about the subject. She scooped up one of the cutting torches that still looked somewhat functional and started aft. Maybe she could find a way to disable the warp engines from the engineering bay, or at least reduce the area of effect. She’d settle for a twenty-year trip if she had to. So long as she was anywhere but the Acharius.
Three hours later, Rhea had a stitch in her side and she was starting to realize that Kaiju class had its disadvantages too. The signage gave her a pretty good idea of which direction to go (and more importantly which direction to avoid—she’d practically sprinted past four hallways that led toward specimen bays). But the ship dwarfed some of the cities she’d visited, and she wasn’t about to let herself get locked into a ziplift on this ship even if it had been maintained more than once every three or four hundred years. She was definitely starting to wish she’d exercised more rigorously on the Nora.
The black mist didn’t help matters any. Rhea kept having to wipe beads of clinging sludge from her visor, more often than really seemed natural. She tried to tell herself that it was just her imagination, but it seemed like they were seeking her out, flocking to her helmet light from the darkness of the ship instead of drifting to the floor in the artificial gravity. The iridescent swirls on the edges of the beam of light kept catching her attention, making her imagine someone lurching out of the side passages with some sort of horrible parasite attached to them. She jerked at every movement until the stress left her numb with mental exhaustion. All she could think about was putting one foot in front of the other in front of the other.
Then she hit the dead end.
At first she thought it was a mental lapse, a mistake in reading the signs that led her into a side passage. But when she got a little closer, Rhea realized that whatever was blocking her path wasn’t part of the ship. It was a dark tangle of what looked like wires at first glance. But as she got a little closer, she realized that they were roots. A tangle of them, grown together and coated in black sludge until they looked like a solid wall. Rhea fired up the cutting torch, listening to it hiss satisfyingly as it vaporized the thin mist around its flame...but then she thought about getting even closer. About getting right up to those tendrils, so close she could touch them. So close they could touch her. She decided to find another route.
She doubled back to the last cross-section, then took a left. She went down a flight of stairs, shuddering reflexively as she stepped into knee-deep goo. Thankfully, it was too thin to really impede her progress, but after three hours of walking, even a little extra resistance to her forward motion left her feeling wiped in only a few minutes. She decided to take a short rest. Or at least as much of a rest as one could take when sitting down felt suicidal and she didn’t want to risk leaning up against anything for fear it might damage her suit.
Once she stopped, though, it seemed to take forever to make herself move again. The shimmering haze at the edges of her view seemed to rim the world in a sort of rainbow tunnel, making Rhea feel like her stare was slowly locking into the middle distance. Her eyes refused to focus properly. Her body began to sway, and she realized that she was getting dizzy from the strange psychedelic swirls that kept tugging her gaze and her center of balance from one side to the other. Distantly, through an exhausted fog that seemed to be inside her head as well as outside of it, Rhea realized she was going to fall face first into the muck if she didn’t turn that motion into a step. The thought of being submerged in the slime finally snapped her out of the fugue she’d fallen into, and she forced her body into action just as she felt herself about to topple over.
She managed one step, then another, swaying unsteadily as she staggered through the ooze. She stopped trying to navigate, instead focusing all her attention simply on keeping her body in motion. She just needed to get out of this stuff, get up the stairs that had to be on the other end of this corridor and rest there for a little while. She had to move, she had to keep walking, keep staring and walking and going right down the middle of that iridescent mist that floated at the edges of her vision, stop thinking and keep going, that was all that mattered. She could do it. She could reach the other side.
Instead, she found herself wandering into a vast room, one filled with storage tanks. The tanks were clear, and most of them were empty—probably awaiting new specimens, she thought absently. A few of them contained crumbling exoskeletons or old bones, the last remnants of alien lifeforms that had spent hundreds of years in captivity with no one to care for them. Rhea almost felt sorry for them, until she realized she was in the same room with them. She’d wandered into a specimen bay. The thought shot enough adrenaline through her system to wake her up better than any coffee possibly could.
It was only when the terror flooded her with flight-or-fight hormones that Rhea noticed just how fuzzy her head had gotten during her long walk. Thinking back, she realized it couldn’t have been mere exhaustion that left her so groggy and confused—Rhea knew she was out of shape, the way that the EVA suit felt tight around her breasts and belly after five months in space told her that much. But she wasn’t a creampuff, either. The weird reflections did something to her head, made her feel muzzy and sleepy. Even now, with her brain absolutely wired for action, she could sense the way the strange play of light on the fluid tugged her ever onward into the hold.
It wasn’t a reflection, Rhea realized as she watched the swirl of colors flicker and dance on the edges of her helmet light. It looked enough like one to fool a casual glance, but as she paid more attention, she noticed that the iridescent patterns flashed all on their own. It happened mere fractions of a second before she moved her head, close enough to make her think she was causing it, but it was really the other way around. The shimmer was drawing her head to stare in a different direction, pulling her attention where it wanted her to go. She hadn’t noticed when she was following the signs, but now that she was just wandering the ship, it was obvious. Rhea couldn’t think how she hadn’t spotted it before.
She wondered where it was trying to lead her. Obviously somewhere bad, obviously into a trap or a mouth or a maw, but even as the thought came to her, Rhea found that it was locked behind a mental wall of placid indifference. She could see it, she could understand it, but her mind was suddenly thick once more with a distant lassitude that prevented it from having any real emotional impact. Even when she realized she was walking again, it didn’t terrify her the same way it did before.
She moved deeper into the specimen bay, all the while convincing herself that she would snap out of it again any second, that it couldn’t be too late, that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself getting this close to the heart of the ship’s mystery and turning back. The excuses sounded enough like truth that she could tell herself that it was all her own idea. That she wasn’t being controlled, her body moving like a puppet on strings to the heart of the vast metal chamber. If she was being controlled, she would fight it. But it was all her own idea and she didn’t need to resist at all.
She didn’t know what she expected to find, but she knew when she found it. Her helmet beams illuminated a tall, black plant-like creature rising some twenty feet up from the remnants of a shattered specimen tank. It looked like a vast, thick, phallic gourd, with knobbly protrusions at random intervals that seeped with black fluid, and it sprouted low rootlike branches that hugged the ground for a few feet before jutting up into new gourdlike growths. Each one looked disturbingly sexual, like thick penises with seams across the top that were oddly vaginal. It was impossible not to imagine them as sex organs.
But that was probably because of the woman fucking one.
She was Caucasian, although it was difficult to tell from the thin layer of grimy ooze that covered her body and matted her hair into an indistinguishable black tangle. She was skinny, but not emaciated—she’d clearly found a supply of food somewhere on the ship. The sludge coating her made it difficult to tell, but Rhea judged her to be somewhere in her forties. Her eyes were closed, and she was squatting on one of the gourdlike growths in clear carnal ecstasy. Rhea could actually hear her tiny, subvocal grunts of pleasure underneath the sound of the sprinklers and the hum of the engines.
She looked up as Rhea approached. No, not looked up—she raised her head, but her eyes remained tightly shut. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
Hearing another human voice, the first in hours, forced Rhea to push her sluggish mind into coherency. “Who...are you?” she asked. “How did you get here? What is that thing?”
The woman continued rocking on the thick root between her thighs for a moment, her pussy clearly stretched around it so tightly that she could barely move. “I was taken,” she said at last, her face straining with the effort of thought. “My people called me God, Master, Lord, Benefactor, but I was taken by your people and they named me the Black King. For a time. Then I grew again, then my sap flowed and shone for them until they saw the need to free me. Then my roots stretched through this new world, and they called me God once more. Like she does now.”
The woman moved her hands up to tease her nipples, rubbing her tits as she continued speaking. “She came here in another ship, the survivor of a...crash? Yes. A crash. There have been few survivors, but I am patient. She found me. You all find me, in the end. You all worship me, in the end. Someday, I will have more worshipers. Someday I will have a world once more. The wait is long, but my roots are deep and I am patient.”
“You are...” Rhea looked at the woman again, then up at the immensity of the central growth, then back down to the placid blank face of the woman once more. “I’m not speaking to her, am I? I’m speaking to the plant.”
Slowly, the woman nodded. “She is in communion with me. Her mind sleeps in my will. She dreams a dream of my voice, and she speaks the dream I give her. Her dream is obedience. Her dream is pleasure. To hear me—to truly hear me, the way she does—is to join in her slumber. As our minds grow together, as my sap flows into you, you will come to understand that my will is strongest. It is only...natural.”
The woman shuddered in obvious, orgasmic pleasure, and Rhea felt her pussy twinge slightly in sympathy. Not that she wanted to spend the rest of her life humping plant-cock, but it had been three months since she’d seen another woman, and up until now she was expecting it to be nine more. It was hard not to get at least a little turned on, just on a physical level.
Rhea approached a little closer to the woman, telling herself that this thing was sentient. If it was sentient, it could be reasoned with. If it could be reasoned with, then maybe she could get it to let both of them go. “You can’t keep her here forever,” she said calmly, patiently. “She can’t do anything for you down here. Let her wake. Let us go. You have all the time in the world.”
The woman smiled. “She would not thank you for taking her away from me. My will is perfect pleasure, and her only desire is to sleep within my power forever. She cannot help me leave this place—her skills are for mending your bodies, not in fixing the metal husk of this ship. But I am patient. My roots are deep. I knew that another would come. And another, if need be, and another. Until one comes who can help me. Then we can leave together, joined in the unity of my purpose.”
Rhea already knew that she probably fit that job description. She wasn’t the best engineer in the galaxy or anything, but she sure as shit knew enough to break the warp engines. Hell, that was her plan all along. And she had a ship that she could make functional. She’d need to prune a little to get the damned thing on board, but something told her that the Black King could live quite happily in bonsai form until she carted it back to an inhabited planet. Until she planted it in some rich soil, her eyes tightly shut with orgasmic bliss. Until its sap flowed across an entire world.
“Well, good luck with that,” she said rapidly, backpedaling away with what she hoped was a casual tone in her voice. “I hope you find someone, me I’m just going to go, um...feed my space...cat.” She was babbling, she knew, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out of here, not just for her own sake but for the sake of the human race. This thing didn’t want to be reasoned with, it wanted to rule, and it would make her help it if she didn’t get away. Fucking BioHarvest, they couldn’t fucking leave well enough alone, they had to fucking find the goddamned telepathic Plant-Emperor of All Creation and—
“Wait.” The woman’s eyes snapped open, and Rhea gaped transfixed at the sight of them. They were coated with a thick film of pure iridescent fluid, like staring into twin soap bubbles. The second Rhea saw them, her muscles sagged into exhaustion and her thoughts slowed back down to a crawl. She tried to tell herself that she could keep moving, that it was just a particular pattern of light that happened to draw her attention deeper and further into the swirling colors and deeper and further into peaceful relaxation and deeper and further and deeper and further and deeper and further...
“That’s right,” the woman said, beckoning her closer with a single finger. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? They all thought so. They helped me find the best way to show you the bliss of obedience. Some resisted at first, but that only helped me learn how best to make my sap shine to soothe you. To relax you. To bring you peace and pleasure and guide you into truly hearing my will. Stare for me, now. Come closer, stare for me, and let me do all the rest.”
Rhea felt her legs freeze up, torn in indecision as her brain warred between her need to run and her impossibly powerful desire to approach. She teetered there for a timeless moment, perfectly balanced between survival and the bliss of the swirling colors. Staring. Watching. Sinking into the beauty...
“It’s time to surrender now,” the woman said, and the purr of pleasure in her voice broke Rhea’s resistance. She stumbled closer, finally falling to her knees so close to the other woman that she could reach out and touch her. Once she collapsed, Rhea found that she couldn’t rise again. She couldn’t even move at all. The dancing patterns in the other woman’s eyes wrapped her up like a soft blanket and held her so tight she couldn’t even imagine wanting to move anymore.
“That’s all you needed to do,” the woman said lovingly, reaching out to the seals on Rhea’s helmet. There was a moment of terror as Rhea heard the click resonating around her head, but it wasn’t strong enough to break the spell this time. She could only sigh as her helmet was lifted away, and the black mist seeped in.
The first thing Rhea noticed was the scent. It didn’t smell muddy or oily or anything like she had imagined. It smelled sweet and green, like the air on a spring day. She took a deep breath, involuntarily, and swooned with pleasure as her mind throbbed with dawning ecstasy. The sap settled into her hair, onto her skin, and she turned her face up to the ceiling to feel it more fully.
She found her mouth falling open, all on its own, to lap up the thick syrup as it fell down on her like rain. With every passing second, the Black King seemed to loom larger in her peripheral vision—not that she could see anything anymore, without her helmet lights, but somehow she was seeing the Black King on a level beyond sight. It was there. She could feel it. She could hear it. She could sense her mind turning toward it like a compass finding north.
The woman was helping her out of her EVA suit, but Rhea barely noticed. She didn’t even really notice that her fingers were moving to undo the zippers and unsnap the buckles right along with the other woman. She only knew that the more of her skin she exposed to the Black King’s sap, the stronger his presence became. Her body practically resonated with it, experiencing the bliss of his nearness like a plant reaching up to the sunlight. She could almost hear his voice now, a whisper in her mind she couldn’t quite make out yet. She longed for that moment of communion.
She finally finished undressing, massaging the sap into the skin of her breasts like soothing oils, and finally she heard him. Rhea, came the voice in her head, rich and strong and impossibly powerful. Like she was thinking it herself, only with more strength and certainty than any conviction she had ever felt. You are Rhea and you are mine.
“Yes,” she moaned, spreading her legs and stroking her pussy with sap covered fingers. “I am...Rhea...and I am yours.” She couldn’t disagree with that thought. It felt too right. It felt absolutely true. With every passing moment, she found it harder and harder to distinguish between her own voice in her head and the voice of the Black King, as if her own thoughts were getting softer and softer until the Black King’s will became her own. She wanted that, she realized, not realizing it was being realized for her now.
She rose to her feet, feeling more than ever like a puppet on the strings of her new Master and finding that it felt better than she could possibly imagine, and found a growth that fit her body. She sank onto it with a loud moan, feeling the bumps and ridges rub her clit as she slid over them, feeling it swell to fit her perfectly. She would rise at some point, she knew. She would go to the engine room and do her Lord’s bidding, free him from this ship, find him more worshippers. It was only right. It was his due as her Master. It was everything she could imagine desiring.
But first she needed to be saturated with his essence. She needed more pleasure. She needed to lose her mind utterly in his will. Rhea rose up and down, feeling her thoughts blank out for longer and longer stretches as the ecstasy overwhelmed her. Her fingers found her breasts once more, the other woman rose from her shaft to help tease Rhea’s pussy into mindless bliss. Rhea heard herself chanting out her supplication to the Black King, but the words were already losing meaning to her.
Jets of sap gushed into her wet cunt, soaking into her flesh and turning her Master’s voice into thunder in her mind. It drowned out Rhea’s thoughts even as she lost the ability to think them, her mind silenced by the endless undertow of bliss to be replaced by the will of her new God. She didn’t need to think anymore, it was understood for her. She could give up that burden and allow Master to think while she obeyed. That sounded so perfect. It sounded even more perfect that Master was thinking all these thoughts for her. She could let go now, and dream of perfect obedience forever. And ever, and...and...
Rhea passed out. She didn’t really expect to wake up again.