This story is set in Arth-Keros, a world of high-fantasy female degradation. More information on Arth-Keros is available to ATR paid members! (Click here to view memberships.)
General Dhalg was delighted with Tilly’s new alchemically-augmented tits. As soon as he saw them, he grabbed at them, seizing one of the poor girl’s melons in each hand and using them to drag her bodily to his bedroom. Once there, he threw Tilly on the bed and violently raped her, before having Aylee lick his cum from Tilly’s pussy.
Then he had Tilly kneel over Aylee’s face, so that Aylee could lick Tilly’s pussy, and he used his leather belt to whip Tilly across her new tits until she was able to orgasm from the combination of the pain and Aylee’s tongue. This became a routine – an ordeal that Tilly went through twice daily – and within only a few days Tilly was able to orgasm not just once, but twice, from each session of breast abuse.
Whenever Tilly and Aylee were allowed to be alone together, they would kiss, and make out. Aylee didn’t know whether Tilly genuinely wanted to kiss her – and she no longer cared. She had had no control over anything ever since the day she had been apprenticed to the alchemists, and now, thanks to her alchemical mistake, she possessed this pretty creature body and soul. She had commanded Tilly to sexually desire her, and she had commanded Tilly to act as though she was deeply in love with Aylee, and honestly the thought that Tilly didn’t want this but was forced to do it anyway was as appealing to Aylee as the idea of Tilly holding genuine affection for her.
She had discovered that she loved demonstrating her control over the Orhanian girl. As Tilly desperately tongue-kissed Aylee and professed her passion and love, Aylee would pinch the girl’s clitoris hard, or slap her across the face, and Tilly would have no choice but to thank Aylee and tell her again how much she loved her.
She even made Tilly beg for her own abuse. “Please, mistress, pinch my clit,” Tilly would whisper, in the darkness of the supply closet where they often had their illicit rendezvous. And then Aylee would pinch Tilly’s clit, and Tilly would start to cry, but she would say, “Please, mistress – harder” – and it would make Aylee so wet that she would have to kiss Tilly, then push Tilly to her knees and hump her pussy against Tilly’s face until she had to stop, certain that she would be noisy in her orgasm and that they would both be caught.
“I love you, Tilly,” she would whisper to the enslaved girl, as she sent Tilly back out to her daily duties with a wet sheen of Aylee’s cunt-juices on her face.
But Aylee’s happiness inevitably came to an end. A week after Tilly’s enhancement, it was time for General Dhalg to leave and return to Orhanos – taking Tilly with him.
Aylee wanted to scream in frustration. She wasn’t ready to flee the city yet. She still had preparations to make – but now her only ally was being taken away from her, and she would be returned to the degradation of the Alchemists’ Guild.
“Tilly, you belong to me, no matter where you are,” Aylee whispered to her lover-turned-slave on their final night together in the cages. “I expect you to return to me, as soon as you are able.”
“But how, mistress?” asked Tilly. “The General makes the decisions. I’m just a bitch…”
“Find a way,” said Aylee. “I command you.” And she nipped TIlly’s clit lightly with her teeth, for emphasis, making Tilly squeak.
“Yes, mistress,” said Tilly unhappily. “I love you, mistress.”
“I love you too,” said Aylee – and began to lick Tilly’s pussy, to prove it. A moment later, Tilly began to return the favour, and they spent the rest of the night in mutual sexual pleasure.
The next day Tilly was gone – returned to Orhanos, along with General Dhalg – and Aylee was back in the custody of Master Klax and the Watchful Guild of Alchemists.
She considered not mentioning that Dhalg had given Aylee permission to orgasm while she was away – but she remembered how her slutty orgasm had altered her magical treatment of Aylee, and she remembered also how Master Klax had warned her about the dire consequences of orgasming around the finely-tuned equipment in the alchemists’ tower. And so she confessed to her new ability as soon as she was reunited with her Master, and Klax once again removed her ability to cum.
She cried as she realised that she would have no more of the wonderful rape-orgasms and lesbian climaxes she had enjoyed at the Orhanian Embassy – and possibly would never orgasm again, unless she completed her escape from her apprenticeship.
But the day of her escape was still in the future, and so she reapplied herself to her studies under Klax. She knelt before him, and drank his piss, and couldn’t help but beam with pride as he called her an “acceptable cunt” for her success in altering Tilly’s tits for the Orhanian general.
To Aylee’s surprise, she learned that her next assignment would be in the Battery – the fortress-like installation where gynaetic energy was harvested from the pain and degradation of caged women in order to provide power to the lights, heaters and other machines of Vass.
“You will be learning to craft a Halistrax Field,” said Klax. “You may consider it a great honour. Very few cunts have sufficient brain-power to understand the equations of the Great Deducer. We shall see if you are one of them.”
Aylee hadn’t been inside the Battery since her family visit on her 18th birthday. The inside was still mildly terrifying to her. The walls were of thick, brutal stone. Level after level of identical circular rooms were stacked on top of each other, each lit with a cool, blue light, and the walls of each room were lined with wire cages.
Each cage held a naked, abused woman, trapped on all fours, and most of them were crying or screaming.
Klax instructed Aylee on the workings of the battery as they entered within.
“Each bitch within the Battery has been fitted with Halistrax implants,” he told Aylee. “They’re rather like your collar, except they’re directly implanted in her body – located at the brainstem, the groin, and in the breasts. They harvest the woman’s gynaetic energy and transfer it to the yonic accumulator on the upper floor of the structure. The energy is produced from a woman’s sexual arousal, shame, fear, and pain responses, so the implants work to maximise those feelings in each bitch. She is kept in a constant state of extreme arousal, while pain is triggered randomly in her tits and cunt.”
Aylee shuddered. The women in the cages looked miserable – and they had been here for most of their lives, and would remain here for the rest of them. This was the price of Vass’ fortune and prosperity.
“There is a small meter implanted on each bitch’s left hip,” said Vass, “through which you can read the magnitude of her recent gynaetic output. For your first week here, you will be required to do nothing other than experiment with the bitches, and see how your treatment of them can raise or lower their output.”
Aylee looked at her master questioningly. Did he mean she was to….
“Hurt them, yes, Aylee,” said Klax. “See if you can do a better job of torturing their tits and cunt than the implants do. You’ll need an intuitive understanding of the creation and flow of gynaetic energy to master the production of Halistrax fields.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, they’re quite safe. The implants render them completely incapable of harming anyone, or refusing any order they’re given. They’re also prevented from using human languages. Just treat them like the animals they are.”
And so Aylee was left alone in the battery for a week, with all the caged women therein as her toys.
At first she was hesitant to hurt the women. She started a large-breasted brunette girl her own age. She released the bitch from her cage, and led her to the centre of the room, where Klax had allowed Aylee to lay out some blankets and pillows for comfort. She stroked the girl’s hair, and treated her kindly – and watched as the girl’s gynaetic energy output diminished, as shown by the small metal gauge implanted in her hip.
At first it was just nice to lie there with the girl in her arms, cuddling contentedly. It reminded her of Tilly. It reminded her, in an odd way, of her own sister Hana.
But then Aylee’s cunt began to throb. The girl felt a little *too* much like Tilly. She was looking up at Aylee with gratitude and happiness. Aylee had reduced her discomfort, and the girl clearly wanted to please Aylee, so….
Aylee gently pushed the girl’s head down towards her pussy. When the girl understood what was happening, she started to struggle – but Aylee just pushed firmly, and soon the girl was licking Aylee’s cunt.
It was just like her first experience raping a girl, in front of her whole family on her 18th birthday. It felt good. And it was also like her experience in dominating Tilly, after accidentally enslaving the Orhanian girl with her magic. Aylee controlled so little in her life that having total control over another girl was addictive.
She humped her cunt hard against the girl’s face, barely letting the poor thing breathe, but of course she couldn’t orgasm, and could only become more and more frustrated.
In the end she pushed the girl away from her, angry and despairing at her inability to find release. She noted that the girl’s gynaetic output was up again. For a brief moment, Aylee was filled with ugly thoughts – unfair thoughts, but ones she nevertheless couldn’t resist. She felt abandoned by Tilly. Tilly should have been here, helping Aylee to cum, but instead she was off in Orhanos, probably fucking her canine boyfriend. And this nameless battery cunt was no replacement for Tilly’s beautiful, affectionate tongue.
Maybe if the battery bitch had tried harder, Aylee would have been able to cum.
She reached out and grabbed the girl’s left tit, and twisted, and pulled. The girl squealed, and hearing her squeal made Aylee feel good. She pulled on the girl’s other breast, with the same result.
And then it really sank in that Aylee could do *anything* to this girl, as long as she left the girl basically intact, and not only would there be absolutely no consequences, but the girl would never even be able to tell anyone. And the crueller she was, the more her Master Klax would approve.
Thoughtfully, experimentally, Aylee punched the girl in the tit.
After that, there was no holding Aylee back. She spent the week practicing the craft of inflicting pain. After the first girl, she usually worked with two or even three bitches at a time, forcing one girl to lick at Aylee’s cunt while she tortured a second.
“I’m sorry,” she would whisper to the girls sometimes – because part of her felt tremendously guilty about her treatment of these women, and knew it was deeply wrong – but she wasn’t really sorry, because the more she hurt these girls, the more she came to see them as sub-human, just animals, not really thinking beings at all.
She discovered a love of abusing breasts. Or at least, she loved to abuse breasts while she was horny. The wetter she was, the wetter it made her to torture a girl’s tits. But in the few moments where she calmed down, and let her pussy stop throbbing, she would sometimes experience great shudders of shame at the cruel things she had done, and the response it had produced in her pussy.
She played with slapping tits, punching them, pulling on them. Master Klax brought her a selection of tools and toys, and she found she quite enjoyed whipping a girl’s tits until they were purple and the girl was crying – the larger the breasts, the better. She experimented with chaining two girls together via clamps attached to their nipples and making them play tug-of-war. She made girls put their own tits in vices, and wind the vice closed on their titflesh while masturbating and crying until she told them to stop.
Cunts were fun to hurt, too, whether whipping them, punching them, putting clamps on them, or just stuffing things up inside them.
She dutifully took measurements of the gynaetic output of all her abuses for the benefit of her Master. And she discovered something interesting.
The greatest outputs weren’t produced simply by the greatest pain. The largest surges of gynaetic energy were produced by *contrast*. Hurting a girl generated energy, yes – but if she was *nice* to the girl first, and stroked her hair, and told her she was pretty – and *then* tortured the girl savagely, and told her it was all her own fault for being disappointing and stupid, the gynaetic energy generated was exponentially higher.
And so she began to play head games with the girls of the Battery, trying to convince them that she loved them prior to abusing them, and then convincing them that they had caused their own abuse somehow.
At the end of the week, Klax came to take Aylee home to the Guild, prior to the next step of her training. Aylee didn’t want to go. She wanted to hurt the girls more. Klax had to practically drag her away, and confine her in her room in the Guild, until finally Aylee slept.
The next day she felt terrible. She had barely been awake for a few minutes before she found herself vomiting. The events of the last week seemed like a blur. What had she done? She had tortured so many girls – and loved doing it. It seemed unbelievable to her now. Was she a monster? She began to cry, with the knowledge of what a horrible slut she was.
“Oh, do be quiet,” said Klax, entering her chamber. “I dosed you with Beastrose. It reduces the barriers that normally suppress the Nine Impure Natures within you. It effectively reduced you to your true form as an animal that thinks with your cunt. Even as slutty as you are, you never would have behaved that way had you not been drugged. It was important that you gain an understanding of how abuse powers the Battery, and I simply didn’t have the patience to deal with you pretending that hurting other bitches didn’t make your cunt wet.”
Aylee felt dizzy, and overcome with strange gratitude to Klax. It *wasn’t* her fault that she had done those things. She had been drugged! Sure, she may have been willing to rape that girl on her 18th birthday – but her family had told her to. And sure, she had dominated Tilly – but Tilly *loved* her, and she had never really hurt Tilly.
And yet her cunt pulsed with the memory of how *good* it had felt to rape one girl’s face while punching another girl in the tits…
“Now get up,” said Klax. “Your sister is coming.”
Aylee was confused. “My sister?” she asked. “Hana? Why?”
“So you can take her measurements, of course,” said Klax. “It’s her 18th birthday.”
Had so much time passed since Aylee joined the guild? She had lost track. Her sister Hana was 18 now?
But something else commanded her attention.
“Her measurements?” she asked. “What measurements?”
“Why, for a Halistrax Field, of course,” said Klax. “Why else do you think I’ve had you working in the Battery?” He paused, and looked at her. “Were you not aware of your sister’s fate?”
“What fate?” asked Aylee with dread – although at some level, she already knew.
“Your parents are selling Hana to the Battery,” said Klax. “Soon she will be just another of those nameless bitches you spent the week raping – and her sacrifice will help to bring power to the whole city…”