Round 35

The sorceress leaned back against the desk, her dark leathery wings spreading slightly to catch the late afternoon light streaming through the penthouse windows. The others were still reeling from what had just happened—the brutal public fucking she'd just inflicted on Silra, leaving the rogue gaping and leaking cum like a used toy. Halia was sputtering indignantly, clearly floundering for some shred of moral high ground that had ceased to exist weeks ago. Pathetic.

Jeane let her crimson eyes drift over them lazily, settling on little Abby pressed against the far wall. The innocent civilian's wide-eyed horror was almost… arousing. Almost. She'd have to break that one in properly before she could be of any real use. For now, the elf would suffice as a reminder of what happened when you crossed her.

"Enough!" Halia suddenly stepped forward, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. "You can't keep doing this to us, Jeane." The cleric's hand clenched into a fist at her side—was she actually considering violence? How delightfully stupid. "We're supposed to be adventuring, not… not…" Her words trailed off, leaving the accusation hanging in the air between them.

Jeane simply smirked, spreading her wings wider in a gesture that was half-threat, half-display of dominance. The others flinched back instinctively—all except Silra, who remained slumped against the wall, still gaping and leaking cum with every shift of her weight. The rogue's teal eyes blazed with defiance even as her body betrayed her, still trembling from the aftershocks of her forced orgasm.

"Oh please," Jeane drawled, her voice dripping with contempt, "spare me your pathetic whimpering." She pushed off from the desk and strode toward Halia, each step deliberate and predatory. "You think you have any say in what happens here? After all this time?" The cleric flinched back, pressing herself against the wall like a cornered animal—exactly as Jeane had intended.*