{"sf1_id":1936358,"sf2_id":"Oe5jRONm","title":"DECADENCE","author":"ZhenAbendroth","words":705,"posted_at":"2022-12-25T00:12:00.000Z","tags":["Ball Worship","Cocknosis","Demon","Dubcon","Elf","Equine penis","Fantasy","Furry","Horsecock","Musknosis","Smothering"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1936358-decadence","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5jRONm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/50/87/5087a349-4fc1-4ed0-a1b0-f7addd139a1a","description":"#1 of 50SHADESOFZHENN\n\nA planned short story series about the fall of Dain Linhad; a story about corruption, power, indulgence, and DECADENCE.\nDain was once a revered Hero who had it all. Read as he goes from a proud anti-hero who feels like he's at the top of the world to just another muskrag for the powerful demon he made the mistake of crossing swords with.","content":"  \nHow long had you been here?  \nHow long?  \nYou don't know.  \nYour memories fail you, reaching for them a fruitless endeavor. Yet, now and  \nthen in your restless sleep you see snippets of what may have been your prior life.  \nYou were once a well-known and respected daemon hunter. The name of your  \nprevious identity remains a mystery to you.  \nAt one point you'd had everything you wanted. Women, booze, public  \nadoration. All of it. Nothing was beyond your reach. You had a little villa in the  \ncountry near a village, and a separate estate in a larger town. You forget the name of  \nwhere, and when, but you can sometimes almost  \ntaste your former life.  \nBut what you can taste more of now is the sweaty sac in your mouth. Fingers  \nsnap, your eyes which had been glazed for some time now suddenly refocus. Words,  \ndeep and commanding, snap you out of your reminiscing to bring you back to the  \nhere and now.  \n\"You're losing track of it, again.\" Says the voice, mocking, playful, callous... The  \nbig hell-brute currently using your face as a cushion for his balls tsks at your laziness.  \nHe rolls his hips forward and cuts off your air entirely, smothering you in onyx flesh.  \n\"I didn't say you could stop sucking, did I? This is why we have to do this often.  \nYour mind does tend to wander away.\" Zhenn mused, keeping himself there until  \nyour vision begins to blacken from lack of air. Of course, he is not a cruel Master,  \nand the demon Prince pulls back in time to let your lungs rasp and scramble for air.  \nYou suck in clean oxygen, allowed a brief respite from the assault on your senses for  \nmaybe twenty seconds before he puts his balls and taint back over your face and  \nreturns you to your musky abyss.  \n\"You should be thanking me,\" Zhenn continued, \"I liberated you. Why does  \nyour mind wander to who you  \nused to be? It's pointless you know.\" He chuckles,  \nwiggling on your face and burying your nose deeper into his sweaty flesh. He sighs,  \nrelaxed now, content with his positioning.  \nYou try and remember; you try to rebel against him by digging for your memories  \nlike the lost possession they are. A moment of realization comes over you, the fog  \nclearing, and you remember this isn't who you are, and you try to scramble for  \nreason and collection...  \nBut Zhenn simply toys with you, like the musk-rag you are. It's too much to fight  \nagainst as he once again blocks off all your air and forces you to inhale his scent  \ndeep into your lungs. Your little frontal lobe melts into slush at the onslaught, and  \nwhatever scraps of memory you'd cobbled together are ripped apart.  \nAnd he laughs at you as your eyes glaze again, and your nostrils flare as you  \neagerly breathe in the pheromone rich fuck-stink because you are nothing but a  \nsnortfag, lucky to be his servant, lucky to be pinned under such a divine creature and  \nmade to serve.  \nWho cares about what you once were, or who you were? Who cares about your  \nfriends and your family? They're insignificant.  \nIt clicks again, finally.  \nYou loved it.  \nYou loved him.  \nAnd so, you begin to eagerly suckle and lap at his ball-flesh, tugging on the sac  \nwith your lips, tongue tracing the piercings. You make a sloppy mess of spit out of  \nyour own face as you lewdly serve, polishing those breeder orbs.  \nYou would never know the truth.  \nThe truth that Zhenn could completely wipe your mind any time he wished. He  \ncould completely sever your connection to your old-self like a precise scalpel. But he  \ndoesn't; he doesn't because it is more fun to let you scramble for consciousness  \nagain, watching you crawl and stumble and fall as he rips the rug out from under you  \nagain and again. Letting you nearly achieve what your heart desperately desires only  \nto revoke it, to crush it, and toss it to the wind.  \nThe only thing you'd ever see when you dig for your past would be his grinning  \nface, looming over you,  \ndominating you.  \nNow get back to worshiping.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"50SHADESOFZHENN","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1936370-daddy-s-meal-pov-vore.json"}}