Mirielle was a mess.
Her legs trembled beneath her, the burn of the Itching Leaf still buzzing between her thighs like a cruel reminder of her place. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Sweat clung to her skin, her hair stuck to her cheeks, and her pussy still twitched from the way Allen had *ruined* it minutes ago.
And yet—she was still dripping.
Still bent over.
Still needing.
Allen stood behind her, cock still hard, his hand lazily stroking her raw, stretched pussy lips while Fina sat cross-legged on the counter like a queen, watching the woman tremble and degrade herself.
"Look at you," Fina purred. "Human housewife turned cum-drunk fuckpet. Was the itch that bad? Or is Allen's cock just that good?"
Mirielle whimpered.
"Answer her," Allen growled, slapping her ass.
"Y-yes," she gasped. "It's—it's that good…"
Fina leaned down, claws tracing the woman's flushed cheek. "Then say it."
Mirielle blinked up at her, dazed. "S-say what?"
Fina smiled wickedly. "Repeat after me. 'I won't discriminate against beastkin ever again.'"
Mirielle hesitated. Fina narrowed her eyes.
"Say it."
"I—I won't discriminate against beastkin ever again…"
Fina grinned. "Good girl. Now say, 'I belong to Allen and Fina.'"
Mirielle's voice cracked, but she obeyed. "I belong to Allen and Fina…"
Allen slid the thick head of his cock between her folds again, grinding without pushing in.
"Louder."
"I BELONG TO ALLEN AND FINA!"
Fina tilted her head playfully. "Say you're our slave."
"I'm your slave," Mirielle moaned, her voice shaking with arousal and shame. "I'm your property… please…"
Fina giggled, then grabbed a fistful of Mirielle's hair and yanked her head up to meet her eyes.
"Then tell me, slut. How's my man's cock feel compared to your husband's limp, useless noodle?"
Mirielle's eyes glazed over. Her lips quivered. And then she broke.
"It's better! It's thicker—deeper—he makes me feel things—my husband never—never—!"
Allen shoved back inside her, burying his cock all the way again with one smooth thrust.
She screamed in pleasure.
"Gods—yes—! I'm yours! I'm your slut! I'll do anything, just don't stop—!"
Fina moaned softly, reaching down to rub her own dripping slit through the soft fluff of her skirt. "Mmm… she's broken. I love when they break."
Allen didn't slow down.
He fucked her harder, hands gripping her hips like reins, pulling her back into every thrust as Mirielle sobbed and moaned through her submission.
Fina leaned down again, whispering hot against her ear.
"You're gonna clean my pussy with that mouth when we're done. And you're going to *thank* us for saving you from your pathetic life."
Mirielle could barely respond—she just nodded, gasping, crying, coming again around Allen's massive cock.
Owned.
Ruined.
Slave.
And the best part?
Her husband was still passed out five feet away.
Morning light filtered in through the cracks in the shutters. The little kitchen was still a mess—clothes scattered, a chair knocked over, the faint smell of sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air.
Mirielle lay sprawled across the floor, her body a glistening display of exhaustion and pleasure. Her thighs were sticky, her neck marked with fresh bites. Allen had finally let her collapse after what felt like hours of being stuffed, stretched, and used. Her whole body trembled with little aftershocks, and yet—she was smiling.
No, not just smiling.
Laughing.
She let out a breathless giggle, her hand lazily covering her eyes. "Heh… haha… gods… I can't… I can't ever have normal sex again…"
Fina, curled up on the counter nibbling a dried fruit strip, raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Oh?"
Mirielle laughed harder now, her face flushed red as she tilted her head toward Allen—who was sipping from a mug of water, completely naked and not even pretending to hide the beast between his legs. "I mean—look at that thing! That's not a dick, it's a weapon!"
Allen just grinned. "You took it like a champ."
She let out a dreamy sigh, fingers lightly grazing her sore, stretched pussy lips. "No… no, I took it like a whore. Like a broken little bitch who didn't know she could cum like that."
Fina hopped down and crouched beside her, giving her a light pat on the cheek. "You sound happy."
"I am," Mirielle said, still giggling, voice light with delirious ecstasy. "You know what I used to think during sex? That maybe I was just broken. That maybe something was wrong with me. But nope. Turns out my husband just has the sexual energy of a dying squirrel."
Allen nearly spit out his water.
"And now?" she went on, eyes glazed and blissful. "I got split open by orc-cock, slapped with itching leaves, made to say humiliating things, and you still haven't fucked the last bit of sense outta me."
Fina leaned in, grinning wide. "Oh, we're not done, princess. Not even close."
Allen set down his mug, crouching behind her again, his cock already getting hard again just from hearing her ramble.
Mirielle's smile widened as she looked back at him. "You gonna fuck me stupid again, Allen?"
He gave her a lazy nod. "You're not already stupid?"
She laughed so hard she snorted. "Gods, I love you freaks."
Fina gave her a playful slap on the ass. "Good. Because you're ours now. No going back to missionary Mondays with limp-dick Harven."
Mirielle just grinned, legs spreading without even thinking. "Missionary? Pfft. I'm over here trying to figure out if I can walk after getting rearranged like an alphabet puzzle."
Allen cracked his knuckles, stepping closer again. "Let's find out."