# DECADENCE

Author: ZhenAbendroth
Tags: Ball Worship, Cocknosis, Demon, Dubcon, Elf, Equine penis, Fantasy, Furry, Horsecock, Musknosis, Smothering

#1 of 50SHADESOFZHENN

A planned short story series about the fall of Dain Linhad; a story about corruption, power, indulgence, and DECADENCE.
Dain 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.

  
How long had you been here?  
How long?  
You don't know.  
Your memories fail you, reaching for them a fruitless endeavor. Yet, now and  
then in your restless sleep you see snippets of what may have been your prior life.  
You were once a well-known and respected daemon hunter. The name of your  
previous identity remains a mystery to you.  
At one point you'd had everything you wanted. Women, booze, public  
adoration. All of it. Nothing was beyond your reach. You had a little villa in the  
country near a village, and a separate estate in a larger town. You forget the name of  
where, and when, but you can sometimes almost  
taste your former life.  
But what you can taste more of now is the sweaty sac in your mouth. Fingers  
snap, your eyes which had been glazed for some time now suddenly refocus. Words,  
deep and commanding, snap you out of your reminiscing to bring you back to the  
here and now.  
"You're losing track of it, again." Says the voice, mocking, playful, callous... The  
big hell-brute currently using your face as a cushion for his balls tsks at your laziness.  
He rolls his hips forward and cuts off your air entirely, smothering you in onyx flesh.  
"I didn't say you could stop sucking, did I? This is why we have to do this often.  
Your mind does tend to wander away." Zhenn mused, keeping himself there until  
your vision begins to blacken from lack of air. Of course, he is not a cruel Master,  
and the demon Prince pulls back in time to let your lungs rasp and scramble for air.  
You suck in clean oxygen, allowed a brief respite from the assault on your senses for  
maybe twenty seconds before he puts his balls and taint back over your face and  
returns you to your musky abyss.  
"You should be thanking me," Zhenn continued, "I liberated you. Why does  
your mind wander to who you  
used to be? It's pointless you know." He chuckles,  
wiggling on your face and burying your nose deeper into his sweaty flesh. He sighs,  
relaxed now, content with his positioning.  
You try and remember; you try to rebel against him by digging for your memories  
like the lost possession they are. A moment of realization comes over you, the fog  
clearing, and you remember this isn't who you are, and you try to scramble for  
reason and collection...  
But Zhenn simply toys with you, like the musk-rag you are. It's too much to fight  
against as he once again blocks off all your air and forces you to inhale his scent  
deep into your lungs. Your little frontal lobe melts into slush at the onslaught, and  
whatever scraps of memory you'd cobbled together are ripped apart.  
And he laughs at you as your eyes glaze again, and your nostrils flare as you  
eagerly breathe in the pheromone rich fuck-stink because you are nothing but a  
snortfag, lucky to be his servant, lucky to be pinned under such a divine creature and  
made to serve.  
Who cares about what you once were, or who you were? Who cares about your  
friends and your family? They're insignificant.  
It clicks again, finally.  
You loved it.  
You loved him.  
And so, you begin to eagerly suckle and lap at his ball-flesh, tugging on the sac  
with your lips, tongue tracing the piercings. You make a sloppy mess of spit out of  
your own face as you lewdly serve, polishing those breeder orbs.  
You would never know the truth.  
The truth that Zhenn could completely wipe your mind any time he wished. He  
could completely sever your connection to your old-self like a precise scalpel. But he  
doesn't; he doesn't because it is more fun to let you scramble for consciousness  
again, watching you crawl and stumble and fall as he rips the rug out from under you  
again and again. Letting you nearly achieve what your heart desperately desires only  
to revoke it, to crush it, and toss it to the wind.  
The only thing you'd ever see when you dig for your past would be his grinning  
face, looming over you,  
dominating you.  
Now get back to worshiping.  
  

 

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5jRONm
Part of the series 50SHADESOFZHENN
Next: https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1936370-daddy-s-meal-pov-vore.md