"Ugh, oh—!"
In the suffocating gloom of the basement, Diana's skin emitted a faint, dying white luminescence. The air was thick, heavy with a pungent, musky stench that clung to the back of her throat. High-pitched moans and the rhythmic, wet gurgling of relentless thrusting echoed off the damp walls. Diana's arms were wrenched behind her back, her wrists bound by the slick, gray-black grip of massive tentacles. Her long, powerful legs were forced into a punishingly wide split, her calves bent back at angles that defied even her Amazonian physiology.
Traces of spent fluid clung to her matted, chestnut hair. Her once-elegant office attire had been shredded into rags, leaving only her signature gloves and torn stockings clinging to her trembling form.
'Another orgasm... I'm going to become a nothing but a slave to this... oh!'
The tentacles, nearly as thick as her own thighs, were lined with thousands of microscopic, vibrating spikes. With every brutal plunge, they grazed her sensitive walls, weeping a potent, supernatural aphrodisiac that had been pumping into her system for a day and a night. Though her mind remained stubbornly conscious, the creature sensed the shift; it believed the once-invincible Princess of Themyscira was finally breaking.
The coils tightened around her slender waist and aching breasts, accelerating the pace. Each lunge of the beast's anatomy sent Diana into fresh howls of ecstasy and agony. Fluid gushed, mixing with the dark pool beneath her. Her white heels, still strapped to her suspended feet, shivered in the air as the afterglow of her umpteenth climax took hold. From her overfilled womb, the excess dripped to the floor. With every peak, the monster siphoned her divine magic, its mass swelling to twice the size it had been the night before. It pressed its weight against her, crushing the breath from her lungs.
It had all begun with the crushing weight of peace.
As Earth's guardian, Diana had reached a plateau. Since the fall of the Dark Legion, the world had settled into a long, quiet era. Trapped in her role as the CEO of a global conglomerate, a strange, hollow emptiness had begun to fester within her. She missed the heat of battle; she missed the raw, primal lust of the monsters she used to hunt. Neither the Paragon of Justice nor the corporate executive could ever truly indulge the dark, unrestrained desires that clawed at her—only the hidden, demonic realms offered a sanctuary for her moans.
Earlier that day, the office had been silent. Diana had shed her fur coat, standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows to stretch. Her white silk shirt strained against her full breasts, her waist tapering into the sharp line of a black pencil skirt.
'Sexy, aloof, powerful,' she thought bitterly, looking at her reflection. It was an aura that inspired awe in her board members, but it was also a cage that kept her isolated.
Crouching, she used a flick of magic to slide open a hidden drawer. It was a stark, carnal contrast to the sterile perfection of her office, filled with various implements of glass and silicone. She selected a heavy, transparent dildo the length of her forearm, suctioning it to the edge of her mahogany desk. Facing the city skyline, she stepped out of her skirt and lace.
Pressing her palms against the cool glass, she guided herself down. Her body swallowed the cold glass, a soft, broken sound escaping her. As she swayed, she let her eyes drift shut, conjuring memories of being pinned by a demonic general—the terrifying, sharp pain of being truly overpowered. She remembered the fear of being turned into a mere toy, the moment her powers had surged to save her.
But as she straightened up, the hollow ache in her chest only felt wider. The toy was not enough. She needed the real thing.
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