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Escort guard duty was boring no matter how one sliced it. Even the highest paid jobs. In some cases, especially the highest paid jobs.

Despite being a kobold, Isma commanded the highest price out of the entire company currently working escort for the princess. Kobolds were hardly uncommon, but ones that could command an asking price for merc work, let alone her price, were rare. She was a special case, however. A paladin. Noble. Stalwart. Unflinchingly blade. She had stood astride her fallen enemies on enough battlefields that she commanded automatic respect just for her presence alone.

She carried the finest weapons. Wore the finest custom-fit steel armor. Mere mention that she was present was enough to turn the tide, as any who wished harm could be counted on to be shaken, if not flee outright. She was young, her virginal body tight with muscle, her brown scales glossy and well-kept. Fit. In the prime of her life. The ultimate kobold warrior, without equal.

This is relayed to you, dear reader, so that it is made clear how shameful it was that her downfall was ushered in not with a glorious battle, but instead with something as base as a call of nature.

The royal family paid top dollar for the princess' escort. Three score of some of the finest fighters, with Isma captaining them. Two weeks into the journey and all was going well. So well that the days fell into routine. The princess' carriage was slow, they ate up the road in fits and starts, but there was no hurry. This was peaceful, friendly country. Or it was thought to be.

She should have gone in a bucket in her tent. She was off watch duty, turning in for the night. Her armor stacked. Her weapon stowed. She wore only a shirt and pants, not overly fine but perfectly functional. She needed to relieve herself, and the night was so nice out; why not use the woods? Enjoy the fresh air, and one less (somewhat embarrassing) morning ritual bypassed.

She nodded to the dozing night watch man, sitting next to the smoldering remains of the fire. The princess' carriage sat to the side, dark and quiet, the girl having turned in for the night. Isma passed them by and stepped into the darkened trees. Twigs snapped softly, leaves crunched, brush scraped past her sides as she walked far enough into the woods to grant privacy.

When she was confident she was alone, she unbuckled her pants and slipped them down to her ankles. Lifting her tail and squatting, Isma rested in a crouch and relaxed. The soft patter of a gentle stream filled the otherwise nightly silence. Idly, Isma scratched her face, thinking about how early she planned on waking in the morning.

She was not yet finished when there was the softest of hissing sounds, barely a thing to be heard. She felt a sudden sharp sting in her rump, enough that she yipped softly in surprise and reached back to cast off what she assumed was an insect. Her fingers found something different altogether. She pulled the object from her rear and held it up. A dart.

She reacted immediately. She yanked her pants up and tried to move forward. She got two steps before she fell to her knees. Her legs felt like jelly. As she opened her mouth to shout, something landed heavily on her back. It flattened her to the forest floor, nearly knocking the wind from her. A hand grabbed her snout and forced it shut. Her hands came up to try and pry them free, but her arms didn't want to cooperate, and all she did was fumble clumsily in the dark.

"Shh," said the gentle voice of the assailant on her back. It felt more like her size; the odor hit her then. Kobold. Male. "Relax, relax," it purred condescendingly at her as she struggled, her body shutting down in stages; she found she retained sensation but could not get her muscles to answer her. "You're finished, Isma. There you go... you feel the toxin in you, taking away your muscles? Potent stuff. Expensive. Money well spent."

She was laying almost completely inert. What little movements she could make were nowhere near enough to shake her attacker off of her. She was aware of dark shapes moving in the woods past them. Her eyes darted about, and she tried to shout something again.

The kobold on her back shushed her again, and she could feel him moving. No longer needing to hold her down quite so much, he collected something from his belt and quickly slipped a muzzle over her snout, yanking it tight as Isma weakly protested into her forced-shut mouth. "You have a nice ass, by the way," the kobold remarked conversationally as he tied the muzzle tightly at the back of her head. She tried to reach up to stop him but she hadn't the strength to even lift her hands off the forward floor. "We'll be seeing a lot of it, won't we, Isma?"

There was activity in the camp. What sounded like a very short fight. Gurgled grunts, gasps of surprise. A woman's scream. The princess!

"Don't you worry about them, great hero," the kobold remarked in a cheerful voice, climbing off Isma's back. She lay flat on her muzzled face, unable to move, but fully sensate. "Their fate is sealed. Yours too. Did you enjoy your last night of freedom? I don't envy the wallet that buys you off the slave block. You'll fetch quite a price."

Isma was fighting panic. She desperately tried to move, tried to make a sound, but she was a prisoner locked in her own body. Her eyes darted madly as the kobold took her arms and stretched them in front of her, then gathered her shirt and easily slipped it off over her head, tossing the garment to the side. "We had this whole plan on how to deal with you," he remarked. "Imagine our fortune you decided to make water in the woods. Now, let's get a look at the world's best kept secret."

She was stone silent, filled with dread, as his fingers hooked in the waistline of her pants. She was a virgin. No male had ever stolen as close and unfettered a look as this one meant to. She tried to summon up everything within her to fight him. All that happened was that she squirmed, very slightly, and uttered a pathetic, "Mmnnh..."

"Shhh," he shushed her, yet again, as in the camp there were orders being shouted, the sound of someone crying. His fingers pulled. Her pants slipped from her hips, over the firm cheeks of her muscular, round backside. Down her legs, past her knees. He slipped one ankle free, and then the other, and her pants were removed. He tossed them to the side. Shivering on the ground, the world's most feared kobold lay naked. The male grabbed her rump cheeks and brazenly spread them, making Isma's heart skip.

"Tch, too dark to see anything," the male remarked, letting her ass go with a pat on one of her cheeks. "Well, best I get you trussed up. Don't want to risk the toxin wearing off, do I?"

Isma's roars of fury came out of her as sad whimpers as the male kobold got to work. He took one arm and then the other, bringing them behind her back. Cuffs were applied to her wrists, and then the cuffs linked together, her hands bound against the small of her back. A collar was slipped around her neck. Her breathing was coming quickly as the reality of the situation was coming down on her. She was stark naked and being tied up. Her things were at that moment being no doubt gathered and secured. She was drugged and helpless. Completely helpless.

Her ankles were next. Cuffs were affixed. They were connected by a short chain; very short. They'd allow for maybe only a quarter-step. His hands slid up the back of her calfs, her knees, her thighs. She squirmed as they roamed over her backside, and then she squeaked softly as he roughly grabbed her tail and harshly yanked it up. His other hand grabbed her by the collar, pulling her head up to him as he forced her tail high.

"Your tail stays up, whore," he said, in that sweet, condescending voice. "Great hero sluts like you know better than to let your tail down. Or you should. Then again, you're new at this whole slave thing, so we'll give you a practice aid." He let go of her collar, and she grunted as her face hit the leaves of the forest floor. He pulled her tail to her neck, which arched her back just a little. She felt something secured around her tail, near the tip, and tightened. A cuff of some kind, which was then clipped to a latch at the back of her collar. He released her and she lay there, panting, her tail forced up over her back, exposing her intimate parts permanently.

"Normally this is where I'd mount you like a common whore," he said, standing up and reaching down, grabbing her by the arms and cruelly hauling her nude, bound form to her feet, where she sagged in his grip. "Give you a taste of where you belong. But, we've got work to do. Let's go say hi to your princess, cunt."

She had never been spoken to like that in her life. Isma attempted a fierce growl and managed to emit one that wasn't wholly pathetic. She was regaining some muscle control, was able to move her shoulders a little, flex her fingers, her toes. The kobold ignored her and walked, half-dragging the bound kobold female with him through the brush, approaching the camp. The fire had been relit and as they approached, Isma could clearly smell blood.

The camp had been completely overrun. What male guards the princess had were all dead. The two female guards were alive, and were kneeling with the princess' ladies-in-waiting. All were stripped naked, bound, and gagged. The princess alone stood with her hands tied behind her back, still dressed in her white night shift, looking defiant but terrified. The bandits (or mercenaries, or whoever they were) lounged around the fire, carried the bodies of the dead into the trees, or stood leering over the prisoners.

"When she gets back, she'll kill you all! She's a legend!" the princess was saying, shivering and glaring at what Isma assumed was the leader of the band, a long-blond-haired man dressed in dark leathers. The bandits were mixed races, and all male; there were one or two gnolls, three lizardmen, one elf, one kobold in addition to the one hauling Isma into the clearing, and the rest were some variation of human.

"What legend?" Isma's kobold captor asked, shoving her into view, the firelight shimmering off her exposed, glossy brown scales. "This one?"

All eyes fell on Isma as she stumbled and fell into the clearing, her chains rattling and a soft grunt escaping her. The prisoners groaned as one, their hope draining from them. The princess looked teary-eyed and disbelieving. "No..." she protested, softly.

Isma felt a strong hand grab her tail and pull, roughly and painfully yanking her to her feet, where she stood shakily, still weakened from the toxin. "This little cunt?" the human asked. Isma's eyes shot open wide as his hand came down on her exposed backside, the spank ringing sharply in the nighttime air. The bandits burst into laughter. "A legend?" he asked, and again Isma's nude little body shook as he slapped her rump. And again. And again. Isma resolutely kept quiet, not wanting to give them the pleasure of hearing her squeal, even as blow after blow rained down on her naked backside, making her muscular rump cheeks jiggle and shake.

"We were sent to take you in, Princess. But not your followers," the man said, tossing Isma to the ground where her original captor gathered her up. "They're slaves now. So, you can cooperate with us and be a good little girl, or things can go very bad for them. Do everything we say and I can promise they're treated nicely before we get them to the slave auction. But give us any trouble... Rikky, you can only be a paladin if you're a virgin, am I right?"

The kobold holding Isma replied, "S' right, boss."

"Good. Let's make the world one paladin less. That Isma bitch has been walking around with an unused cunt for too long. Break her in."

Isma growled, struggling as much as she could against the bindings. Her eyes were open wide with fury, pressing her legs together and twisting, struggling. The male held her fast, and said, "But won't that hurt her value?"

The human tsked. "Whoever buying her is buying the name and species, not her virginity. It'll be novel enough fucking the 'great hero', nobody cares if she ain't broken in yet. Have at her, you and Jekko both."

"No!" the princess cried out, suddenly. "Spare her, please!"

Isma watched in horror as the man walked right up to the princess and grabbed the front of her shift, pulling her close. He brandished a knife. Isma roared into her forced-shut muzzle, but the man didn't cut the princess. Instead, he sliced at the sheer white fabric of her body, yanking and pulling it away from the young girl, leaving the royal heir standing nude as the rest of the women.

"Your royal cunt is off limits," he man snarled, grabbing the girl by her breast. "But your ass and mouth don't got cherries to pop, so what'll it be, Princess? The kobold bitch, or your royal ass?"

The princess, shivering and terrified, looked at Isma, who somberly shook her head. The princess hung her's in shame and was silent.

"Thought so," the man snarled, letting her go. "Rikky, enjoy yourself."

A slave, Isma thought to herself as whoops and catcalls sounded out amongst the men. She was spun around and pushed, her thighs hitting a fallen tree trunk that had been used in the clearing as a bench; now it was used to bend her over. A hand pressed down between her shoulder blades, forcing her face into the grass. With her tail forced up, this exposed to one and all her intimate region, perfectly illuminated in the firelight. The tight, soft, scaly lips of her virginal sex. The tighter, wrinkled tailhole that before then had never been seen by any eyes other than her own, and even then only once, with a mirror. Now on display. "Told you'd I'd get a good look," Rikky snarled.

They're going to rape me, she pondered as she felt hands grab her rump cheeks and spread them. They're going to fuck me and I won't be a paladin anymore. I'll be a slave. And they won't stop there.

She struggled, a little, but a sharp slap to her rump quieted her, as well as the other kobold kneeling down by her head and hissing to her, "Give us trouble, Isma-slut, and we fuck the princess up the ass right next to you. Now take it like the slave whore you are."

Hands caressed her muscular, round rump cheeks. She could hear the men calling out, the kobold Rikky giving her another slap on the ass before she heard him undoing his pants. She didn't listen to any of it. She closed her eyes, tightened her hands into fists. She wanted to kick and fight, to make it as hard as possible, but the princess... she knew they would make good on their threat. If protecting her meant not struggling...

She felt a pair of fingers touch her where even she rarely stroked. Her soft pussy lips, never before felt or even seen by the eyes of a male, were almost tenderly caressed before they were spread, giving the now bottomless and erect Rikky a view of her fresh unspoiled channel. Isma felt herself shaking. She had no idea what to expect. She had never inserted anything in her sex before. It would hurt for a certainty, she knew. She'd have to be strong. Rikky stepped up close behind her, his hands on her hips, pulling her up a little more and steadying her. The clearing slowly went quiet as she felt the warm, firm head of his cock stroke up and down her sex lips. There were some laughs and chuckles and Isma whimpered, involuntarily, softly, as the tension boiled over.

Rikky gave her one more sharp smack on her hip before victoriously driving his hips forward, plunging his hard kobold cock deep into Isma's virginal pussy, cheapening the world by one paladin. Isma whined, arching her head up and wincing as she felt herself stretched wide and filled up in a sense she had never anticipated, never prepared for. The men cheered. Rikky groaned, his hands stroking over her ass and hips, pressing himself in to the hilt and savoring the warm de-virginized walls that reluctantly hugged his dick. Felt her body trying to adjust, relished in the moment of feeling his cock lodged in a place few would dream of being. He took one hand off her hip and grabbed one of her horns, pulling her up and arching her back. She groaned as he leaned forward, grinding his dick deep into her violated cunt, and said, "Finally, you're in your proper place."

Isma could say nothing, gagged as she was, as Rikky started fucking her. Holding her by the horn and hip, the former paladin bound and trussed up, bent over a log, Rikky wasted no time in pounding his cock in and out of her with direct, no-nonsense thrusting. He fucked her at the same force and pace that a male would masturbate. Regular, deep thrusts with no care at all given to female comfort. Isma whimpered, her body shaking back and forth as her sore, stuffed, formerly pure nether lips were brutally ravaged by his cock, forced to give pleasure to the kobold grunting and thrusting behind her. The men egged him on, whooping and calling out. Many of the bound, naked women were weeping and averting their eyes, the princess especially.

"This is the tightest cunt I've ever fucked," grunted Rikky, pulling Isma back into his thrusts. His scaly hips slapped up against her ass, her body jerking with every lunge. It was a perfectly straightforward fucking, barebones and to the point. All Isma could do was try to keep quiet to preserve what little dignity she could hope to have. Rikky panted a little, grunting as he stroked his cock in and out of her sex, mouth open and hips pumping up against her. "Shit," he moaned. "I ain't gonna last long..."

"Fill her up, Rikky!" someone called out, and the kobold started fucking her harder. Isma's fists were clenched, her toes curled. She tried and failed to put her mind somewhere, anywhere else. There was nowhere for it to go. She panted through her nose, whimpering in soft grunts as over and over Rikky plunged his hard penis into her vulnerable, soft pussy. His hands moved so that he was holding her by her bound tail and her horns, keeping her arched up, her hips lifted by the log and his own thrusting.

"After, ngh, I fill you up, bitch... ngh!... Jekko gets his turn. So be a good little whore, ngh!, and make sure your cunt is nice and tight for him too." Rikky was throwing his back into the thrusts now, his tail flagging behind him as he pumped her, his eyes closed and head tossing side to side. Isma's endured grunts matched the wet impacts of their genitals, her rump jiggling, entire body heaving with his deep lunges. Out of the corner of her eye, blurred by tears from the strain of such a brutal assault on her sex, she saw Jokko slipping his pants and shirt off, displaying a solid, full erection of his own. The kobold smirked at her, stroking himself as he watched his companion work himself up to his climax.

Rikky's thrusts started getting longer, deeper. He was panting, plunging into her as his orgasm reached toward its zenith. "Gonna BREED you!" he yapped, pulling her back into his lunges. "Ngh! NGH! Gonna fucking fill! You! Up! NGH! NGH! AH! Yes! YES!"

The kobold threw his head back, mouth open wide with a proud groan. He held himself inside her to the hilt, grinding his hips against her shivering backside as from his cocktip, lodged deep in her cunt, loosed round after round of potent, thick, white kobold cum. Each spurt sealed Isma's defeat more and more. Rikky held himself inside, giving tiny little thrusts as he emptied his balls completely, groaning and grunting and spurting her full. Isma would have held her head in shame but Rikky still held one of her horns, keeping her head yanked up as she was seeded.

The final disgrace with the long post-orgasmic groan from her rapist, and the almost tender lick he placed along the back of her head before he drew himself out of her and let her go. Exhausted, Isma could only slump back over the log, panting for breath through her nose. Rikky stepped away, leaving her bare backside to face the campsite, little pearly white droplets of cum leaking from her used cunt. Rikky was pulling his pants on, walking to his comrades who were rubbing him on the head and congratulating him. As the world came back to Isma, she became aware that the party had broken up somewhat. The princess was nowhere to be seen. Most of the women had been tied together and secured, except for two, both of whom were the female guards and both were being spitroasted between two males apiece, the wet slurps, sad feminine mewls and moans contrasting the dominant male groaning as the women were made use of.

Isma found only small comfort that her defilement was no longer the centerpiece.

She felt Jokko's hands on her hips. She grunted, softly, too tired to protest as she was repositioned and mounted. Jokko apparently felt less need to grind her down. He explored her nude body for a moment with his hands, taking in her curves, the feel of her glossy scales over hard muscle. He stroked her tail, caressed her backside and legs, before grabbing the base of her tail and yanking her hips up by them. Isma braced herself, and then yelped into her gag as her pussy was once again forced to entertain a thick, long guest.

Jokko got right to it. Hands on her hips, he fucked her with short, deep thrusts. He took his time, eyes closed and for the first few dozen thrusts, simply enjoyed the sensation of fucking a tight young reluctant cunt. Isma whined into her muzzle, staring at the grass in front of her as she was used, her pussy sore, her body tired and aching from the awkward face-down/ass-up position. As Jokko pumped her, once again her ears were assaulted with the wet smack of his loins stroking hers, his hips clapping up against her firm backside. The sloppy sounds of his fucking her, her feminine grunts of protest simply one of the small symphony resounding around them.

Jokko hunched low over her, wrapping his arms around her middle in a more traditional mounting, even if her bound hands and tail made it a little awkward. "I can't believe I'm fucking the great Isma," he grunted, focused almost entirely on the sensation of her walls around his penis, living from one thrust of his hips to the next. "Mngh, can't believe how tight you are. Such a fresh, mnh, little cunt. Rikky didn't loosen you up at all." Her nose in the grass, Isma only closed her eyes and focused on getting through it as Jokko breathed into her ear, pumping his hips deep into her.

Compared to Rikky's brutal ravishing, Jokka was nearly gentle. He humping with firm and direct, but comprised of short, deep strokes. He spoke a little, but mostly to himself. Utterances along the lines of "Take that cock" and "Mnh, fuck you're tight!" He huffed as he fucked her, changing the positions of his hands many times. First wrapped around her middle, then arching back with his hands gripping her hips, pulling her into his thrusts. Then sliding to her shoulders, then holding her by the horns. Finally he settled on just holding her hips, hunched over her a bit, resolutely pounding her as he got closer to his climax. Isma was almost limp in his grip at this point, the soft lips of her plundered pussy nearly numb, the humiliation having been burned so deep into her she was very nearly out-of-body.

"Gonna cum," he announced to nobody in particular. He started thrusting harder and faster. Isma whimpered, eyes shut tight as she rode it out. "Oh fuck yes, I'm gonna cum in Isma! Fuck I'm gonna fill her... nnh! Ah!" Jokko plunged in and out of her, his cock unloading his seed into her overfucked pussy, coating her walls. He came down off his orgasm slowly, panting for breath before he pulled out of her with a wet slurping sound, her tight pussy sealing shut as he left her. A parting spurt or two left his tip to mark her backside.

Isma was left bent over the log, panting for air, bleary and stunned. She could feel warm fluid dripping from her sore lips, oozing down her throbbing backside. She felt worn out, defiled, utterly beaten. Though there weren't any hands on her, she couldn't summon the energy to make any kind of escape attempt. It wouldn't do her any good. With her feet shackled, she'd make a racket trying and look silly.

Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. She sagged in their grip; the toxin had worn off more or less entirely, but she felt physically drained for completely separate reasons. Leaking between the legs, she was marched through the camp, the slurping noises of the rapes still ongoing in her ears, along with the gentle weeping or whimpering of the female captives.

She was ushered into what had been the princess' tent. She was nowhere to be seen. Seated on a plush bed was the man from before, the blond-haired one. Isma was thrown to his feet and left there, the other men shuffling out and leaving them alone.

"Before you start," the man said, conversationally, "Don't even think about escaping. The princess is our prize to ransom or sell to the highest bidder, but you and I both know that the only real value a princess has is her virginity. She's intact, I just checked."

The man grabbed Isma by the horn and yanked her roughly to her knees. "I'd sooner hand YOU all my money than risk that sort of value. But you know what the thing is? Ass virginity? Mouth virginity? Not so valuable. Nobody pays for that, am I right? So here's the deal."

He grabbed her by the jaw, forcing Isma to look at him. He smiled into her hateful gaze. "You're our slave. We're going to take you to an auction and make a killing pawning you off. But before we get there, we're going to break you in. Tonight you already learned what your pussy is for. You're going to learn what your asshole is for, and what your mouth is for. I don't think there's a cock in my company you're not going to be intimately familiar with before we even get your scaly hide on the block."

He smirked, holding her face with one hand and undoing his pants with the other. "Here are the rules. Anything my boys want to fuck, you let them fuck. They want your ass? It's theirs. Your mouth? You suck them. Because if you don't, I'm going to fuck the princess in front of you, right up her royal little ass, and I'm going to tell you its your fault. You speak out of turn, you bite, you kick, you try anything funny, she suffers. Not you. I'll make her suck every guy in my command, one after the other, and make her thank you for putting her in that position."

His pants dropped, revealing his maleness, half-hard already, and the round, full balls that hung underneath. He sat down on the bed, grabbing one of her horns and pulling her close, forcing her to shuffle on her knees.

"I'm going to take your muzzle off. You're going to say nothing. Not a word, not a sound." He spread his legs and pulled her between them, his shaft thickening and standing up straighter between his thighs. "I'm going to take your mouth and if you're good, that's all I'll take. Tonight. And when I cum, you swallow every drop. Be an obedient little slave girl, and your princess might even be allowed to wear clothes on our little journey. Do you understand? Nod your pretty little head if you do."

Isma nodded.

"Ever sucked a cock before?"

Isma shook her head.

"Lips, tongue, roof of your mouth. No teeth. I feel teeth, I'll make the princess show you how to properly suck my cock. Understand?"

Isma nodded.

The man unbuckled the straps keeping her mouth closed, slipping them from her face and placing them beside him on the princess' silken bedding. His other hand held her horns and drew her closer. Isma opened her mouth and with a soft, wet sound, his thick shaft slid into her maw.

"Mh," he said, pulling her down over his stiffening rod. "There you go. Careful... careful, yeah, cover the teeth with your lips. Mmmmh, there you go," he cooed, drawing her deeper down on his penis. Isma blinked tears out of her eyes as the man pulled her mouth further over his cock, his hand over the back of her head.

Wet slurping filled the tent as Isma was forced to giver her first ever blowjob, while cum softly dripped out of her sex. Isma's kobold snout being what it was, she could take him all the way into the back of her mouth to 'deepthroat' him, and only gagged a little as he pulled her deep enough to press his balls to her chin. "That's it," he cooed, softly, moving her head up and down on his shaft. "Move your tongue around, make it feel good. Mmmh. Fast learning. Good girl. You'll make a better slave than you did a paladin. Mngh! Oh, if only you knew the bounty on your head. But why kill you? Ah... when I can have you sucking my dick, right?"

Isma tried to shut it all out. Up and down, up and down. His groin had a sharp, musky odor. The tip of him dripped precum onto her tongue and she learned then and there that males taste salty. The man took his time and didn't speak very much, except to giver her condescending compliments and pointers. All the while it was slow, slow, languid and deep. His hand never left the back of her head, guiding her up and down on his thick cock.

His orgasm was slow in coming. He never sped her up. He squirmed a little, huffed, watched her intently as he forced her up and down on his manhood. He leaked cum liberally from the tip, coating the inside of her mouth with his pre. His grip on her head tightened. He shifted his weight, and then added his other hand, gripping her by a horn and guiding her up and down on his shaft. "More tongue," he grunted, and she complied. "Good slave, good... Alright here... here it comes. It's coming. Swallow every drop. Every single drop."

He breathed deeply, forcing her down on his cock, up, then down, up, then down... and held her there. She gagged a little, twisting in his grip, and then flinched as he groaned loudly as she tasted a sudden surge of salty liquid. She quickly got to swallowing as the male panted, holding her head tightly down over his shaft, her mouth filling with seed, swallowing, only to fill back up again. He fired round after round into her mouth until finally it slowed, petered out, and stopped.

She breathed through her nose, whimpering softly as she swallowed the last of him. He stroked her face and made her bob her mouth on his cock a few times to get him clean before he released her. She coughed, head bowed, before she felt him grab her face. Before she could do anything, the straps were against secured over her head, clamping her mouth shut with the muzzle.

"Good," he said. "Soon I won't have to guide your head, but a good start. Welcome to your new life, slave."