FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Mail, either letters, packages or other miscellaneous parcels, had to be filtered through an organizer. Boring, long, grunt work usually heaped on some recruit as punishment. Important communique usually was hand delivered by special messengers. So, there was theoretically no way anything important would be mishandled.

Theoretically.

Late in a shift, under the shroud of a full moon and glimmer of lamplight, a recruit was flipping through some final parcels. A chunky one was addressed to the Demacian High Command. He thought it was a joke, sneering at the strange label of mad script work that made up the address.

Temptation struck when he felt around the package and thought he detected something valuable inside. Indeed it was. Vindictive at his punishment, this recruit cut up the package and looked inside. He thought he could amuse himself with whatever prank lay in wait.

But it was no prank, it was far worse. A recording, glimmering with a crisp magitech picture that gave high and unmistakable detail. It was Poppy, the great warrior, looking quite miffed. The camera was held close on her cheeks, the recruit always thought she was so cute and hot. But way too stuck-up. At least, to a grunt like him.

Her fluffy blue ears twitched and pinned close by her blonde hair. The pink of the middles burned with a blushed red that nearly showed up past the fur on her cheeks. She looked off to the side at someone. A gruff and muffled voiced said something, and she refocused.

“Hello Demacia. My name is P… Poppy. I am unworthy of the hammer of Orlon,” Her teeth grinded together, fighting to say the words. “So Kled had taken it from me. I have come to show all in Demacia, and all of my comrades-in-arms just how much I don’t deserve Orlon’s legacy.”

Poppy stood, and the recruit licked his lips as he realized she was stripped entirely naked. The yordle seemed to struggle to fight her instinct to cover her body as she walked away from the recorder.

She was a muscular little short stack. Her thighs, calves and butt were firm and fat. Her big bouncy cheeks of blue fuzz produced a yearning in the observer. As she walked away, it became clear just how she was being extorted. Past her shoulder, held aloft by chains precariously, was the hammer of Orlon. Below it a bubbling pit of molten metal broiled, threatening to destroy the hammer at the slightest shake of its chains.

“Go on! Shake your ass you Demacian hooker,” some gruff voice cackled. It sounded like an old man, accented with a country twang

Poppy leaned forward, bending over to show off her goods. Her butt was thick enough that her pussy was hidden from view. Remarkably, after only a second’s hesitation, the blonde yordle began clapping her cheeks. Fwap-fwap-fwap.

Poppy twerked, grinding her teeth together and keeping her eyes on Orlon’s hammer, degrading herself only to keep it safe. The thin fur of her body did little to muffle the sounds of her twerking. The bestial, whorish display was so contrast to everything the recruit had seen and heard of Poppy that he was floored.

The movements were stiff and disorganized. But once more that off-screen voice growled. Chains rattled, and the hammer sunk down a few inches quickly. Poppy gasped, barking a desperate ‘no’. And, without being told, amped up her ass shaking.

“Thank-th-thank you for watching me clap my ass for Noxus,” Poppy said, her voice breathless with effort. Sadly, the recording cut short abruptly.

The recruit took it and the letter, keeping it close and secret. He had some loads to blow to that yordle slut.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The recruit was already planning how to get more time in the mail room when he noticed another, similar package the next night. More of the same. Though surprisingly, the yordle was clothed this time, in a roughspun tunic befitting a prisoner.

Poppy was forced to kneel before Kled, who sat himself beside the forge. Just as before, Poppy’s great hammer hung in the balance. Her teeth grinded as she tried to keep her composure even at this distance.

Being on her knees before an enemy was bad enough, but kneeling before an enemy with his cock in her face was worse! The cavalier’s cock was stuffy and smelled deeply of sweat and masculine need. His pale, white-furred balls had a thickened stripe of fur along the sack.

Poppy felt her nose twitch and crinkle at the sight of it all, trying to pull her face away. But each time she did, Kled would grab one of her ears.

“Turn to the camera and say your line.”

Poppy’s sour expression was all the resistance she put up. Orlon’s hammer was too precious to trifle with, and she was convinced Kled would follow up on his threats.

“I am going to jerk off the–” she paused, trying to remember. Her words came slow and forcefully, trying not to flub it. “The High General Marshal Sergeant Kled.”

Kled tugged her ear, yanking her to continue.

“Because I am a Demacian loser.”

“Good. Now start.”

Kled let go of her ear with a shove, spreading his legs a bit more and getting comfortable. The heat from the forge wasn’t helping the situation between his legs. His aroused, swollen prick sagged a bit from its hefty length.

Such a filthy little toad with such a monstrous cock. It made Poppy sick. One-handedly she tugged away at him, trying to turn her cheek to avoid looking at it. Each pump made her palm feel warm with ick. The slickness of his pre-cum drooling on her back hand joined the sweat from his shaft.

The lube-y mixture clung to her skin and made her stomach churn. But still she had to pump. The faster this was over with the better! She tried to soothe herself. The videos were being sent to High Command, that means someone would be searching for her with clues.

That kept her sane as Kled barked at her to use two hands. Yes, if they were receiving the tapes, analysts could surely discern the location. She tried to think about that, and not about the globs of clear pre-spunk that oozed from Kled’s glans. The grunting and throbbing of his dick in her hands.

He would throb and she would wince, fearful of the impending facial. She had no notion that she’d be spared that humiliation. And finally, pop! Squirting out in thickened pumps, Kled’s husky scented semen shot across her face. It clung to her fur and hair, dashing across her ears with repulsive white ropes. The shock and revulsion slowed her jerking, which enraged Kled.

He held her blonde hair in a fistful, taking over from her fuck-up. He half-stood from his chair, jerking off the contents of his balls all over his enemy’s face. By the end of it, Poppy’s entire visage was repainted. Her chin, hair and ears dripped semen, and she was forced to close one eye against the stinging saline baby batter.

She was thrusted toward the camera, her shame captured forever more. Before the recording cut, she gave the strongest, most pleading look she could. Silently imploring the watcher to save her.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

That face kept the recruit up at night. It was too hot. The sight of that strong warrior getting broken down like that drove him mad. He took mail-room shifts anytime he could, even trading easier duties with his mates. The rest of the barracks thought he was nuts. Boring, late-night work, everyone avoided it.

But how could he, when he knew there would be better and better videos coming in. Rumors were floating around that the search for the missing Poppy was in full swing, but no leads.

And how could there be? When those taunting tapes were being withheld by the horny recruit.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Demacian troops are clumsy oafs. And their wives ride Noxian dick while they get fucked on the frontlines,” Poppy said through gritted teeth.

Displeased with her delivery, Kled rubbed his dick across her nose and lips, grinding against her face, wiping his genitals off on her cheek fur. “Again. This time, like you mean it.” She had her hair grabbed and head shook by the locks.

Poppy looked thoroughly conquered. She was dressed up in a comically slutty bit of lingerie. The white lace playing well against her black fur. Her eyes and lips were made up too. Mascara and red lipstick, almost too liberally applied.

“Demacian troops suck. They can’t hold a formation to save their lives. Their wives get fucked by Noxian mounts.”

“Good, good. That’s very encouraging. That’ll boost morale. And so will this.”

Kled shoved a thumb into her mouth, wrenching it open. Poppy gagged, making a resisting sound, but she dared not bite down. In the blurred background of the shot, the periphery of Poppy’s eye, her shame hung by a chain. It taunted her.

Kled jammed his dick against her tongue, scraping the salty flavor of his meat on her taste buds. Warm and pleasingly wet, Poppy’s held open mouth caused her to drool on his balls as he throated her deep.

Her eyes winced and she gagged, getting her tonsils brushed by his glans brought tears to her ducts. Just as Kled wanted. He fucked her throat deep and suddenly, damning the consequences. The Sergeant Double Admiral whipped his hips forward against her jaw, putting balls to chin with the force of a cavalry charge.

The wet, gagging sounds were shamefully lewd. Poppy’s displeased, squinting expression told any observer just how awful it was for her. Rivulets of black ran down her cheeks as she was choked on his joystick, Kled stepping forward to get an obscenely deep angle down her throat.

The poor yordle’s throat bulged with his fucking, marks of red sliding from his base to the midpoint, nothing further as her captor refused to pull out any more than that. Her lungs burned with his relentless assault, ignoring any protest.

Desperation made her panicked mind consider biting down, but the consequences held it at bay. Even as her vision began to blur, she held strong. The only air she was allowed to breathe being ball-scent from huffing his groin as she was muffled by phallus.

Far later than she would have liked, Kled grunted. That final, potent growl of a man ejaculating. And she felt it, the pulsating of his dick’s heartbeat as he blew his load down her throat. Even in her exasperated state her mind still had energy to torture her with.

Forcing her to think of that jizz, Kled’s cum, her enemy’s semen. Staining her, polluting her mouth. The filth of it! Her body, her temple, defiled by his disgusting seed. He pulled out partly, making sure to lead a fat rope of jizz on her tongue. The final, weaker spurts messing up her lips.

The final frame of her disgrace was her dazed expression, looking blankly at the lens. Her face a mess of cum, makeup and spit. She looked like a cheap hooker. Just as Kled wanted her to look.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days of stressful captivity were wearing on Poppy's mental state. Kled's method of captivity was mostly degrading Poppy's value as a woman, and mocking her Demacian ties. It shook her, as much as she hated to admit it. With each new recording her hopes of rescue waned further. Distress set in, had her allies turned on her? Had they seen what she 'allowed' Kled to do to her and become disinterested in recovering the broken Poppy?

But she wasn't broken! She was still fighting. She was holding onto what she always had been, the hope of passing Orlon's hammer to a worthy warrior. That is what she grasped onto mentally.

Physically she had one arm around Kled's neck. She was being held aloft by the cavalier, legs spread for the camera. Her thick blue furred thighs open and defenseless to his groping. While one of his arms braced her up, the other had free reign of her body. Try as she might, she couldn't quiet her soft sounds of natural pleasure as he plucked at her pink nipples and rubbed over her tits harshly. He grasped and groped them tightly, rolling them against his palm with a sour, evil grin on his face.

Trying to turn her head away from the camera was no use, all it did was reveal just how much she was letting the groping get to her! Her ears twitched and bounced as her erogenous zones were manhandled. Her butt slapped and inner thighs rubbed. All Kled's movements inching closer to her pussy. But he was taking his time, trying to make her beg for it. Or as close as he could get.

"Ghhh!" She gasped, a jolt running through her when he finally smacked her clit. Rough but pleasurable pats came to her pussy, ending with a quick stroke of her pleasure-bud. As he kept slapping her, patting firmly to her pussylips, the sound got wetter and wetter, and so did his hand. She was drooling pleasure all over her torturer's hand. And all of it was recorded.

She could almost cry. And that immense feeling of shame hit her like a truck. Mixing together with the potent teasing from the cavalier. Her fears and doubts welled up in her chest as her loins burned.

And when Kled finally hooked two fingers deep into her and assaulted her g-spot, she broke. Officially, crying out in pleasure before she could bite her own tongue. Kled pressed his finger tips deeply against that spot and brushed it with a rapid and relentless pace. All the slowness of his teasing culminating in a rapid and surprising fingering.

Poppy squirted her defeat across her own thighs, his hand and the camera. Clear cyprine fluid gushing out in a ghastly torrent of embarrassment at her own lack of control. Kled blitzed her cunt with his fingerbang, pausing only long enough to tug and force her to squirt harder and further. This went on until Poppy was practically dry, her voice having become a shrill hiss of barely contained, demented pleasure.

Only after Kled was done did she return to reality and realize what had happened.

"Noooo," she whimpered softly, looking down at her own twitching pussy and the camera. Her sorrowful face, messy blonde hair, and sad wilted ears composing the final shot.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Skaarl snarled, growling and beating his fins in a defiant pump. The gust brought by them fluttered Poppy's locks. Knelt before this beast, nude, she felt fear for the first time in a long time. It's maw was a jagged canyon of snaggletoothed tusks. The clay-red of its scales seemed to gleam with contempt for the Demacian as he moved his neck back and forth, examining her from multiple angles.

Without her armor, without her weapon, she was at the mercy of this beast. At the mercy of Kled's training of this cantankerous lizard. His rider was behind Poppy, clutching her head and nudging her forward. She had her orders, but he was going to remind everyone at High Command what she was going to do today.

"Today this little Demacian harlot is going to make-out with my Skaarl here like her life depends on it." Kled shook her head roughly, thrashing her a bit, she growled defiantly but quickly smothered the sound. "Because it does depend on it. Go on, reach for his cheeks. He doesn't bite. Unless I tell him to."

With a tremble at her fingertips, she did as she was told, fearful of losing a hand to the wyvern. But Skaarl, despite his fierce appearance, gently brushed his muzzle to her palms. He had good cause for being so gentle, Kled had given him 'mates' enough to know what Poppy would be doing for him in a few days. And he didn't want to spoil her so soon.

The feel of him was dry and a bit dusty, the rough rivets of scales dragged across Poppy's fingertips as their faces drew closer. Her nose crinkled, the growling yawn of Skaarl bringing with it a rough stench of his breath. Drool began to drip from the sides of his mouth in hungry anticipation for what was next.

Poppy could feel herself freeze up. She couldn't do it. Not this. This was too much. She shuddered, thinking of the few men she'd kissed in the past. And thinking of her future. What would people think of her if—

Skaarl was impatient. The second Poppy's lips parted even a little, his long and prehensile tongue lashed from his maw. Slobbery and slimy, the appendage forced itself down Poppy's throat, grinding against her own tongue and swapping spit with the yordle. She tried pushing back at his neck, but he was far too strong. And, with the angle of height down on the little blue runt, she couldn’t escape if she wanted to.

Skaarl bore down on her, injecting his searching tongue to her mouth. Muffled sounds of protest were caught on the recording, Poppy's eyes wincing shut and the twinkle of tears appearing at her eyelashes. The feeling of her jaw being pushed open so forcefully brought soreness to her whole face. She felt befouled, her precious mouth now engaged in a spit-swapping match with Kled's filthy fucking mount!

The lizard loved it, after a while, drawing his tongue out. Not to give Poppy a rest, but rather to lick across her cheek. At the insistence of Kled, his toy yordle was forced to return the favor. With her far smaller, pink little tongue she licked at Skaarl's dragging it across the bed of his tongue, trying not to gag for the camera.

Before the footage cut, Kled grabbed one of her hands and put it near her face, ordering her to throw up a peace sign and look directly at the Demacians back home.

No prayers for escape came to Poppy's abused mind. She felt distant. Out of her self. Gone.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Poppy didn't need to be restrained, at least she didn't think so. Kled knew better. He'd branded bitches and mounts before, and they always squeal and thrash. She was lashed to a saltire. Arms and ankles cuffed by leather. Her repeatedly edged and throbbing pussy drooling on the table below her. Her fur looked particularly pale, and her blonde hair was frazzled from days of abuse.

When she looked passed her petite breasts, only the cold reflection of a camera's lens looked back at her quivering lips. Kled approached, and in his hand a long and metallic branding iron. It sizzled and sputtered with heat, the cruel and sharp edges of the Noxian insignia woven into the metal. Poppy closed her eyes tight, until the cavalier ordered her to keep them open and watch.

"Watch, as your body is forever more marked and defiled as Noxian property. Let any male who pulls up your shirt or tugs down your panties know that you're a Nox-whore whose cunt has taken the enemy's loads."

Poppy groaned, his words worming into her abused brain. Her body, having been stimulated for hours before this and denied orgasm, actually clenched and throbbed in arousal. The idea of being marked like a lowly piece of property made her feminine, bestial, instinctual elements thrilled. Her frontal lobe however was in shambles, bitterly trying to resist the cravings of her hindbrain.

As she fought her internal battle, feeling her nethers squeeze down on a dick that wasn't there, she got to watch Kled's tool descend on her body, aimed for right above her mons. She didn't want to watch, she wanted to look away. But she felt as though if she kept staring it would somehow be delayed, and by looking away it would happen suddenly.

Unfortunately, her mind held no secret psionic powers, and her wide-eyed gawking did nothing but satisfy Kled's depraved sadism. With a grunt and a firm, powerful thrust, he planted the red-hot iron to her body. The tool was specialized, of yordle make. A contraption that branded and bewitched. It was no ordinary heated metal, he'd never use something so basic on his special victim.

And Poppy understood just what was so special about it the second it made contact with her thin coat of bluish fur. She screamed, there was pain. Sharp and sudden, a redness and heat. Like a burn. But it faded quickly, the pain melted from a caustic sting to a throbbing soreness. And worst of all, her loins were set alight with a humiliatingly potent need. She felt like her clit and cunt were ablaze, and she thrashed at her bonds to tug the iron away from her form.

It was hopeless to pull at the leather cuffs, feeling her toes curl and her hands clench and grab at her palms. All in an attempt to soothe the blistering lust being beset upon her. All that sexual teasing had riled her into a fragile state. The thin glass globe of her psyche was shattered by the iron, and as Kled peeled it away, a new feeling came.

A rush of cold, the absence of heat, confusion, desire. And pitifully, a second before she could stop it, she felt her body submit. Once again, for the camera, for all her allies at home. For the recruit pumping his cock and making certain her rescue was delayed. She came. She threw up the white flag, squirting her debasing declaration of Noxian ownership against the table, floor, and lens. All while a throbbing reddish brand of Nox cooled on her belly.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Kled had only to tug Poppy's collar and she would crawl by his side. Skaarl sat waiting, though faced away from the two yordles. Poppy had no clue what Kled planned, and for barely a second did her eyes glance at the hammer. It was almost forgotten, in all her futile attempts to hold it together in captivity. The source of her mental fortitude before had been pushed away to the recesses of her mind as an afterthought.

And just as she looked upon the glittering golden metal of the hammer, tug. She needed to move forward.

"Time to make out with your husband again, Poppy," Kled growled. "Don't look so shocked. I am sure most of your military career was accomplished through ass kissing, this is no different."

Poppy's pupils shrunk to pinpricks as she put together what he meant, yanking away from him and hearing her collar rattle as it dug into her neck. It was pathetic, trying to scamper away the half-meter the leather lease allowed. But Kled was an animal tamer, he snapped his fingers and pulled back at her. Be firm with your beasts, and they will break.

He didn't even need to order her, she merely whimpered. The sight of his scowling one-eyed gaze had meant punishment in the past and she had no desire to repeat it. Trapped between risking the whip or worse, and kissing Skaarl's ass, the wincing Poppy crawled forward.

Kled's mount was spoiled. He knew exactly what Poppy was here for and was dying for it. He lifted his large, scaled tail and with it came the reeking, dense cloud of musk trapped under it. The dry, nose-crinkling smell of his ripe and sweat-slick asshole and full balls hit Poppy across the face like an abusive spouse. She gagged, turning the other cheek, but it was useless to avoid it.

Skaarl's clay colored pucker dripped rivulets of perspiration. Kled had made sure to exercise his mount thoroughly, drilling him to work up a dense musk. It flexed and winked in anticipation, the reptilian shoving his ass back in eagerness to feel that small yordle tongue kiss his tailhole.

With a displeased face, and shut eyes, Poppy pursed her lips and inched closer. Until, finally, her lips met his rear. The tickle of a sweat droplet irritated her upper lip as the wretched reality of her task seeped into her taste buds. Her nose was pressed up close to Skaarl's business end, forced to huff animalistic ass musk as she kissed and kissed, seeking Kled's signal to stop.

But it didn't come! No amount of smooching was enough, so she kept trying. Peck-peck. Demure, sheepish little kisses.

"Nah, nah. Get in there. Make out with him. Show him some tongue," Kled instructed, his voice lowering in register with the cruel statement.

Poppy gulped, she had no prayers or hopes left. She felt herself recede inward as her tongue dragged across the sensitive hole before her. Skaarl yipped and pawed at the ground. He liked that. He chuffed his low, throaty breathing in pace with her tentative licks. Each one eroded Poppy's self-respect and self-image further. Grinding her into dust until she was eating his ass like it was a 5-star meal.

The yordle got sloppy, rolling her tongue around the lizard's asshole and smooching it like a lover she hasn't seen in months. The mount's dick throbbed, sliding from its sheath and twitching against the reptile's belly with wet plapping.

"Mhffmm, ffhhmm." Lewd, wet sounds rose from behind Skaarl. If one was merely listening to the audio of the recording, they would easily be forgiven for mistaking it for a blowjob.

But now, Poppy was rimming a beast with all she had. After all, she was a Noxian slut, wasn't she? It said so right above her pussy. Forever an ass-kissing Noxian cumdumpster. She ran that thought over in her head again and again. The only thing that snapped her out of it was when her tongue slipped passed Skaarl's entrance, waggled at his prostate, and a sound cut through all the haze.

The creamy raindrops of semen were squirted out of the lizard's cock, blasting his seed against the floor with potency at the ministrations of Poppy's tongue. Only when she didn't hear any more snarls or squirts of jizz did she pull back and rest her butt on her feet, gasping for air.

"Smile for those at home."

She turned and did. A wavering, busted smile, lips sticky with her own spit, and forehead wrinkled in anguish. Her fingers were raised by her cheeks, posed in a pair of weak peace signs.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Weeks of maneuvering to the mailroom, trying to keep the evidence hidden, panicking about his higher ups capturing him, has worn the recruit thin. But, he just couldn't let them take those recordings. Each new one he pilfered was better than the last. The amount of jerk off material he'd gotten from Poppy's torment rivaled anything he'd seen before.

And when posted so far from home, so far from available women, this did a lot to slake his lust. But the pressure was mounting, the guilt building. Just this last night, he told himself, and then he'd turn them over somehow. But, that night, perhaps the best recording arrived.

Poppy was once more on the saltire. Skaarl loomed over her with his fat, throbbing lizard dick. Poppy wasn't wet, she was nervous, but that didn't matter. Nerves or lack of lubricant were going to stop Skaarl from breeding. Led forward by his master, Skaarl followed his natural instinct to mate, fucking forward in a heavy thrust into Poppy.

Her vision went black with the sudden forceful impact. A fullness and soreness hit her like nothing she'd felt before. Her pussy lanced with reptile dick far too large for her little yordle form. Her tummy bulged past the belly button, her mons rounded with the lump of his dick fucking forward. She was tight, the key here being 'was'.

Skaarl shook his hind hips, raping forward again and screeching in a throaty roar. He drooled over Poppy as he curled his body across his bound sex toy. As he fucked and thrusted, trying to carve his way forward and remodel her pussyhole to his liking, Poppy shamefully felt herself getting wetter. No grunting, clenched teeth, or simpering could stop her body from reacting that way.

It was a mercy, anyway, as the cyprine fluid lubed up Skaarl, his fucking got easier. Less painful, more pleasurable, and quicker. Though Poppy didn't want to feel her nethers pleased by the dick of an animal, she felt it all the same. It didn't quite dawn on her, but her nethers were being reshaped, spoiled for anyone that wasn't as big as Skaarl. If she ever got out of here, her loosened cunt and marked womb would make her quite the unappealing catch to prospective beaus.

Skaarl didn't care about keeping Poppy tight for whoever got her next, he just wanted to plant his seed deep in her womb. That's what instinct demanded. His fucking was erratic and bestial, of course. Spikes and skips of pleasure hit Poppy, but never for long enough to truly take her to an edge. She grunted and winced, hating herself for the moans she couldn't stifle.

The beast took these sounds as encouragement, joining her calls with dry barks of his own. And as he drew closer toward breeding, he dived his maw across hers. He snapped himself shut around her mouth, driving his long and prehensile tongue into her mouth and swirling it around. Poppy's lungs burned, unable to get any breath, being pumped into furiously, and having her throat violated by a long slobbery tongue.

And, then, while making out with today's mate, Skaarl bred Poppy. A deeply shot, squelching orgasm into her defenseless and open womb. Sprays of lizard jizz pooled in her pussy, stuffing her tummy like she was a slutty eclair.

Only when his dick was soft, did he let go of her mouth and dismount. Poppy was nearly unconscious from it all, dizzy and head spinning from the impact to her body.

Kled stood over her, grinning. For a moment she thought it was just a tormenting specter of her own mind, until that specter slapped her cheek a few times.

"Focus, you're not done yet. I haven't had my go."

She shook her head, no. She couldn't take anymore.

Kled didn't reply, but he did free her. Both arms and both legs were unlatched, but Poppy only curled slightly closer to herself, exhausted. Lifted up, Kled got her from the saltire and rolled her over.

To stop herself from face planting she caught herself on her hands and knees, shaggy blonde hair hanging before her on the floor. Her long and sad ears drooped. Kled got his cock out, stroking his meat to hardness.

"Don't worry, I'm not fucking your box."

She sighed with relief.

"Especially not after Skaarl's marked it as his cum-toilet," he cackled, making the yordle captive shiver. Her cheeks burned and expression soured with the anvil of that insult, something deep in her felt defeated at the violating of her body into something so pathetically devolved.

"I'll be fucking your ass instead."

Before she could crawl away, clutching at the ground, Poppy's hips were grasped, and Kled had his dick poking her asshole.

"Relax. It'll hurt less."

He jammed himself forward, reminding Poppy she had a voice.

"Ahh! Ghh, ow!" Poppy croaked, craning her neck back at Kled, supporting herself with her elbows. The cavalier rode her as hard as he did Skaarl into battle, reaming her ass with only his pre and a bit of her fluids as lube. The potent pounding downward poked at her abused pussy, stimulating it with direct and dull tremors.

Sharp sounds of confused arousal came from Poppy as Kled snickered and snarled for the camera, making sure the sight of Poppy's asshole and dripping cum-stuffed cunt were in frame.

"I hope you like the sight of my balls in your bitch, Demacia!"

Lewd, sonorous claps of their forms smacking together in a rut rang out. Kled took his time exacting his self pleasure on Poppy. And she had nothing in her that could struggle against it. She could only tumble and chew on the events. Thinking about the violation and degradation of her form, internalizing it. Eyes fluttering with the realities of just what impact this treatment would have on her psyche in the future.

And with all those thoughts, the pounding ram of pleasure at the gates.

"Oh fuck," Poppy whispered, a moment of clarity flashed to her. She was brought back to reality from her internal fantasies just in time to be front and center row to her cumming from getting ass-fucked by Kled.

It was almost surreal, that ramping up, the feeling of dense and heavy pleasure in her nethers as her ass was pumped into. She knew it was coming, and could only flinch at the fireworks as Kled's fucking got her up to and over an edge. She came on his nuts, came against his legs, the floor and the lens, a rattled and breathless whore's moan squeezing from her throat as she did.

Kled smacked her ass with a heavy hand, like he wanted her to giddyup. "What's the score now, slut? Zero to five? Is it six?"

He shoved down, putting his whole weight on her backside and forcing her to hold him up with her tits and chest. Her voice vibrated from the impact of his dick to her but, until after far too long, he emptied his balls in her rear.

When he finally pulled out, he made sure to leave his viewers with a special sight. Poppy, in a pool of her own drool, both of her holes leaking ejaculant.

"Have fun jizzing in your hands, Demacians. I'm going to be cumming in her until you nut up and find 'er, if ever."

A potent message. The recruit did in fact have fun.