What if the Primarchs were Women?

The battle was long over, but Isstvan V still burned. Towering, black plumes of smoke rose from the blasted earth; the scent of ash and burning promethean mixed with blood and ozone of lasfire. For hundreds of kilometers, the broken and rendered bodies of Loyalist Astartes lay dead or dying in the mud and dust, their corpses bearing the heraldry of the Iron Hands, the Raven Guard, and the Salamanders. Among them, arranged in impeccable formation, was their killers; the seven traitor legions of Astartes: the Daughters of Isis, the Death Guard, the World Eaters, the Alpha Legion, the Iron Warriors, the Night Lords, and the Word Bearers. The seven Astartes legion stood in an impromptu military parade, beneath the shadow of a great grandstand erected in a day by the Iron Warriors and the Martian Mechanicum who swore loyalty to the Warmaster. The grandstand jutted from the earth like a dark Triumph, dwarfed only by the Imperator-Class Titan Dies Irae. As the Isstvan sun began to set, the dark glass of the stand was bathed in fiery red, illuminating the triumphant commanders of what the Galaxy would forever know as the Dropsite Massacre.

The grandstand was composed of four tiers made from black glass, each successive tier growing increasing smaller in diameter. Its base, perhaps a thousand meters in width, housed the Marines of the Sixteenth Legion, clad in sea-green ceramite. Above them were the officers of the Daughters of Isis, including the remnants of her Mournival, as well as her Justiciaries Terminators, clad in black just like their leader; First Captain Aziel Abbadon. Higher still were six of the seven Primarchs of the Traitor Legions; Aurora Aurelian of the Word Bearers, Morticia of the Death Guard, Areia of the World Eaters, Alphara of the Alpha Legion, Petra of the Iron Warriors, and Kassandra Curze of the Night Lords.

Yet above all of them, atop of a pillar of blackest glass, illuminated in the dying sunlight like a hero of ancient legend, stood the Warmaster herself – Isis Lupercal. The Warmaster gazed out the blackened husk of Isstvan with a grim smile on her face. Though events had no played out exactly as she had planned, her rebellion had shattered three of the loyalist legions and bloodied the Imperium. Ferra Femina and Corva Corax had fled, Vulkana was missing, either dead or in hiding, and now she was free to uproot her mother from her Golden Throne. With one fell swoop of her Talons, Isis sent a signal to her forces down below. A spark set of miles and tons of phosphorex, igniting the potent weapon in a blazing trail, one that crossed across the vast plains of Isstvan, forming the outline of burning, lidless orange eye. Her eye, the Eye of Isis blazed across the surface of Isstvan, as her soldiers below chanted her name in a cacophonous roar that shook the dust from the earth. Isis smiled as her glorious rebellion began in earnest in this one, momentous occasion.

"I do so love fireworks."

The Warmaster frowned, irritated that even her moment of triumph could not go uninterrupted by her 'patron'. The Daemon Prince of Slaanesh known as Baren remained hidden to all but Isis herself, standing beside her atop the pillar, an oversized glass of wine in one massive, clawed hand. The sight of him made her blood boil, incensed that even now she was forced to share her glory, her victory, with this godly lecher.

"Indeed, my Legions have shown the Empress that her Imperium is coming to its end." Isis made sure to emphasize that they were her warriors, and not Baren's. She couldn't allow the distinction between her efforts and those of Baren and his Warp gods be blurred. The Daemon could strut around with his machismo and sorcery all he liked, but she was in control here, not him. This was her victory to indulge in, one that had been won without Baren or his gods. Well, mostly anyway, Isis though, glancing at the Word Bearers Gal Vorbak Terminators, those Marines who had been temporarily possessed by Warp daemons as their Primarch dueled Corax. Still, she couldn't help but get one last barb in. "I may not need your assistance after all."

Whatever petty satisfaction Isis might have gotten was snuffed out however, as Baren only snickered condescendingly at the Warmaster's claim. "Little girl, there is far more at play in this war than your little games of tin soldiers and there are grander battlefields than this drab, backwater ball of dirt."

Isis seethed at Baren's patronizing words. "I am not a little girl, daemon." The Warmaster snarled.

Baren smirked, onyx eyes trailing appreciatively over Isis's figure. "No… you're not, are you?" he asked with a crooked grin. He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Still, hats off to you, Warmaster. Mommy dearest now has no choice but to take you and your sisters seriously now." He downed the wine in one go and tossed the glass off into the blackened abyss that was Isstvan V's horizon. Isis was not amused.

"If you have nothing else to add, Daemon, I thank you to let me return to my campaign." The Warmaster dismissed, turning her back to the Slaaneshi Prince.

Baren snorted. "As you wish. Enjoy your victory, Warmaster." Unseen by Isis, the Daemon's onyx eyes drifted toward her eighth sister, the so-called 'Night-Haunter' of Nostromo. "I think I'll celebrate in my own way."

-

The Gloriana-Class battleship designated Nightfall sat moored in the upper atmosphere of Isstvan V alongside the other Traitor Legion flagships. It was here where the Eight Legion – the Night Lords – carved a bloody path through the galaxy, each planet that had the misfortune of crossing their path left maimed and haunted. Kassandra Curze, Primarch of the Night Lords, sat alone in her private sanctum, deep within the sunless halls of the malicious ship. The Eight Daughter was brooding, as she was prone to do, her head an aching mess of visions and rampant sadism.

Even among the veritable pantheon of demigoddesses that were the Primarchs, Kassandra stood out. Her sisters had all been handcrafted by the Empress to be tools for her campaign, useful tools, but still ultimately tools. They had city builders like Dorn and Guiliman, inventors like Vulkana, Petra, and Femina, diplomats and scholars in Sanguinia, Freya, Aurora, and Hecate. And though they were all weapons on some level, there were those among them who stood out even in that category; Runa, El'Johnson, Areia, Khan, etc., etc. Then there was her. Kassandra had no delusions about what her role was in the Great Crusade, she was a weapon of fear. Ever since she had been dropped on Nostramo, she had been an instrument of terror. First were the gangs that ran rampant on that godless, sunless world. Gangers, and murderers, and rapists; they all ended up the same. Skewered, broken, flayed, dead. The Night Haunter, they called her. The monster hiding in the shadows, in every dark corner and under every bed. She found it appealing, much better than the name the Empress had saddled her with. In a few decades, Curze had brought Nostramo to its knees. She hunted the criminals down, drove them to their hiding holes and put them all to the blade and the torch. And in doing so, she brought order and justice to a place that had never known such high concepts. You can't respect what you don't fear, afterall. And she had made sure that all of Nostramo feared her. Fear had saved Nostramo's soul. Fear was brought order to a chaotic wasteland.

Fear was justice.

And when the streets were quiet and not a soul on that forsaken planet dared say a word against her, Kassandra had waited. There was nothing left to do but sit there and wait. And then, the day had come when her waiting had ended. The Imperium had come to Nostramo, the Empress of Mankind descending from a sunless sky like an Old-World Angel in golden light so shining that any Nostramen who laid eyes on her went blind. Accompanied by the Praetorian and the Angel, the Empress had met with Curze in her stronghold.

It had not been a very productive meeting.

Ever since she was born, Kassandra had been cursed with precognition, a psychic foresight that allowed her to see evens before they occurred. Some near immediate, allowing her to dodge gunfire and melee strikes before her opponent had even started moving, and others centuries before they would occur. The visions, however, always showed her the worst possible outcome. It was for the best, though. Hope was a dangerous thing, especially on Nostramo. Hope could and would kill you. So Kassandra knew to always expect the worst out of any situation, so she could never surprised or disappointed. Her first meeting with her would-be mother and her sisters had only reinforced her grim predictions. When she gazed upon Regalia Dorn, she saw the Praetorian of Terra overwhelmed by a horde of dark faceless warriors in some grim tunnel. When she gazed upon the Angel of Baal, she saw Sanguinia's body, broken and bloody, at the foot of a dark giant with a blazing orange eye on its chest.

And when she gazed upon the Empress…

Kassandra shuddered, her hands rending deep gouges into the table in front of her as they instinctively clenched. When she gazed upon the Empress, she saw past the farce of humanity that her mother wore. She saw a screaming, half-mad thing, an open and bleeding wound in the Ephyream, half-conscious and half-living, caught between the Material and Immaterial realms and chained to a golden throne. The sight of it had sent her to the floor in psychic conniptions.

And the dreams had only grown worse as time passed.

In her dreams and in her waking nightmares, Kassandra bore witness to a galaxy on the brink of utter collapse. She watched as seas boiled, as stars as were snuffed out, as gods and monsters drowned planets and star systems under writhing oceans of blood and gore. She watched as the galaxy burned. These visions of civil war and strife managed to terrify even her, drove her to the brink of ruin and made her desperate enough to actually confide in one of her sisters. It had not been an easy feat. Sisters they might have been, but to call the Primarchs family was to be naïve and overly generous. They were rivals, comrades, and peers, but not family. They had their own little cliques and partnerships. Ferra and Freya, Sanguinia and Horus, Magnus and Petra. Even the savage Areia was balanced out by ever-pious Aurora. Kassandra had no one. Not on Nostramo, where she grew up in the crawlspaces and forgotten corners of the hive-cities, feeding on rats and whatever ganger was stupid enough to try and make a victim of her. And on Terra, either. Kassandra was always alone.

The one time that she tried to confide in one of her sisters about the horrific visions she had seen had been a disaster. She had spoken Freya; the Phoenician had acted as her 'mentor' in getting the Night Haunter adjusted to her position in the Imperium. An unlikely pairing, but one that had surprisingly worked. For a time anyway. She had made the mistake of believing she could trust Freya with the things she had seen, that maybe her sister could help her understand these terrible visions. Instead, Freya had betrayed the fledgling trust that Kassandra had in her and immediately went to Dorn of all people with the things that Curze had told her. The Praetorian had scorned Kassandra's visions, beating her within an inch of her life for daring to suggest such things could come to pass.

Kassandra took to the lesson well. She never brought up her visions to her sisters again, nor did she ever make the mistake of trusting any of them. Freya might have acted like she had no idea Dorn would react that badly, but Kassandra saw through her lies. She must have known. The joke was on both of them now, though. Kassandra's visions were already coming to fruition. The Warmaster was turning the Primarchs against each other, turning them against the Empress of Mankind and her spineless Imperium. Soon, the entire galaxy would burn. Just as she predicted. Kassandra had known. She had always known.

And nobody believed her.

Kassandra Curze was briefly broken out of her reverie as the Nightfall shuddered as it entered the Warp. She winced; the chaotic energies of the Warp had her head throbbing. Morticia had the right idea, this cancer was not for them. Aurora could debase her legion with her abominations, but Curze would not let her Night Lords be tainted in such a way. Not as if they weren't already tainted in their own way. Kassandra felt her choler rise as she thought about the state of her legion. Infested with gangers and murderers, the criminal elements of Nostramo that had survived her purges. When the Empress had recalled her to Terra, Kassandra had left Nostramo certain that the memory of her would be enough to keep the populace in line. She had vastly overestimated them. Seemingly the very second she was off-planet, Nostramo had regressed back to the ways before her arrival. In their suicidal overconfidence, the filth had assumed that she would not be returning, that now they were below the Night Haunter's notice.

Their arrogance had cost them dearly.

When Kassandra saw just how beyond saving Nostramo truly was, she had done the galaxy a kindness by exterminatus-ing the entire, forsaken planet. A few carefully placed missile strikes, and a core already made unstable from millennia of reckless mining was fit to blow. The act might have damned her legion, if her so-called 'daughters' weren't damned already. The Empress, the greatest hypocrite in a galaxy teeming with them, had the audacity to recall Curze and her legion back to Terra for her actions. As though Kassandra had not simply done exactly what her 'mother' designed her to. She was a weapon, a tool of terror. She had only ever done what she was made for. And it worked. Her way worked. There could be no forgiveness, no hope of redemption or penance. Justice could not afford such luxuries in galaxy so depraved and vile. It must be swift and merciless, unhindered by race or creed or station. No one could be above it.

Not even her.

Kassandra knew that her death was coming. She knew the how and the why of it. One of her mother's assassins, the shapeshifters of the Temple Callidus, would run her knife across Kassandra's throat. Perhaps sooner, perhaps later. But it was coming for her. Kassandra had no interest in changing her fate, even if she believed such a thing was possible. Let the assassin come, let Isis and the Empress play their games. It didn't matter. Death was nothing compare to vindication.

Unfortunately for Kassandra, fate was not as set in stone as she might have thought. Life was not a mapped-out path that never strayed from its course. It was a twisting, writhing tangled mess of a thing, always turning and splitting at the seam with every obstacle that got thrown its way. Baren was one such obstacle, and he planned on turning Kassandra Curze's life right onto its head.

The daemon slowly molded into real-space behind the Night Haunter, his arrival sending ecstatic ripples through the Immaterium. Kassandra froze, like a deer that heard the grass behind it shift. The Eight Primarch faced him, her pitch-black eyes meeting his glimmering onyx ones. To his mild surprise, Curze did not attack immediately. She watched, though, with the wary energy of an animal confronted with some unknown. Suited Baren fine, gave him the freedom to appreciate her body. She was slenderer than most of her sisters, a bit like Morticia in that way. Still curvy though, nice wide hips and a sizeable bust stretching out her black red and dark blue bodysuit. Still, he didn't miss the knife she had stashed in her boot. Not that it could do much against him, but still, he appreciated her level of pragmatism.

Baren gave the Primarch a disarming smile. "Kassandra Curze, I presume?"

The Primarch grimaced at the same, her hand twitching slightly, anxiously fighting the instinct to grab the shiv in her boot and shank her repeatedly. "…That is what I am called." She answered tersely, still watching him.

Baren grinned toothily. "But now what you call yourself, is it? No. You prefer the Night Haunter?" There was a flash of…something in Kassandra's eyes as Baren practically purred her preferred title. The daemon shrugged. "Can't say I care much for it, though. A bit grim for my tastes." His smile grew, taking a more mocking edge to it. "How about 'Kassie'?" he asked. "Much nicer sounding, don't you think?"

"…" Kassandra stared daggers at him, her eyes like bottomless black pits. Baren met her stare head on. He's gazed into the eyes of Slaanesh and come out (mostly) sane, a little death glare didn't scare him. "I think you should leave." Was her frosty response, leaving out the rest of why she wanted to say. Presumably something along the lines 'before I skin you'. Charming. She'd probably fit right in with a few of his peers.

The Prince shrugged. "Just trying to make friendly conversation, Kassie."

He didn't miss the way Kassandra's eye twitched at the nickname. Kudos to her, she was remaining remarkably cool-headed for someone with her rather gruesome reputation. "Then go see Aurora, she's the 'conversationalist'." The Night Haunter snidely muttered. "Let her waste her time with the likes of you, I'll not have any Warp abominations among my legion."

Baren pouted. "Oh, but I want to talk to you…Kassie." A shudder of some unfamiliar sensation crept up Kassandra's spine as the Daemon once again crooned out that butchering of her name. Kassandra clutched her head, a wave of dizziness overcoming her. Her legs were growing wobbly, forcing her to steady herself against the table. Baren grinned wickedly, approaching the Primarch slowly. "Something the matter, Kassie?"

"S-top calling me that!" Kassi-Kassandra demanded, baring her pointed teeth. Whether it was a mutation, or she had simply filed them herself for the scare factor, Baren didn't know. Didn't care either, he was more interested in how they might feel running his tongue against them.

"Why?" Baren coyly asked as he drew closer to the shivering buxom Primarch. "It's such a nice name, isn't it? Kassie, short, sweet, delightful."

Kassandra Curze was many things, but 'delightful' was not one of them. Something…something was wrong. The Primarch clutched her head, struggling to get her muddled thoughts together as the daemon crept closer still. The daemon... Kassandra's eyes widened in realization. She turned on Baren in an instant, accusation and understanding written across her pale face. "You! You-you're doing something!" She accused weakly.

Baren's eyes glinted with a knowing light, as he was practically on top of Curze's shaking, curvy form. "Oh?" He said, feigning innocence with total insincerity. "What could I possibly be doing, Kassie?"

Kassi- Kassandra. - She was Kassandra, dammit! – let out a strangled cry that only slightly sounded like a delighted moan as the Daemon purred his chosen name for her again. "Stop calling me that!" She feebly demanded as Baren continued to approach. Some strange unfamiliar feeling that might have been trepidation forced Kassandra to back away, right until her plush ass met the unyielding form of the table. "I-I mean it!" She tried ordering him, only for the words to come out as a desperate plea.

Baren was unsympathetic. The Daemon loomed over Curze, his chest pressing into her obscene bust. Onyx eyes met her black ones with cruel amusement. "Why should I?" He asked as Kassie struggled to met his gaze. "Don't you like being called Kassie? Isn't it your name?"

"Y-No!" Kassandra blurted out, a vibrant red blush spreading across her ghostly white face. She tried in vain to put distance between herself and this lustful menace, but there was nowhere to go. Baren had her trapped, her voluptuous body caught between him and the table she was practically sitting on now. "I don't want my name to be that!" She desperately insisted even as her legs steadily began spreading, allowing Baren to come even closer to her. She could feel her mind being overwritten by corruptive Warp magics, as every bloody aspect of her grim personality was being twisted in something equal parts saccharine and lewd. For the first time in her life, she was the one who was afraid. Not of death or some gruesome mangling, but of having everything she stood for be completely corrupted by this Daemonic interloper.

Baren smirked down at her, as the fearsome Night Haunter had the look of a panicked rabbit on her gorgeous face. "You know, Kassie," he began. "I think it's about time you got more in touch with your feminine side." 

-

She was Kassie now.

There was no longer any denying that simple fact.

But every remaining ounce of Kassie's mental strength and fortitude was going into resisting what this daemon was trying to turn her into!

He had her pinned to the table, her curvy body trapped between the table and his unyielding form. His hands were all over her shivering, busty form, teasing every lewd inch, tearing and stripping away the all-too thin material of her bodysuit. The only thing that comforted her was the fact that none of her legion were here to witness her debasement. The thought of someone seeing her as a half-naked, lust-drunk bimbo slut, being ravished… it filled her with such shameful thoughts that Kassie had to do everything she could just to hold on.

But her body… Kassie's body felt so good as Baren toyed with her, and as he was toying with her body, his magic was toying with her mind. Making her…pliable and weak. Kassie had never dealt with sensations like this. A bolt of pleasure over came her as Baren drilled her pussy with his wickedly talented fingers, and she moaned in helpless dismay. There was no denying it, she wanted to be Kassie, to forsake any pretenses of justice or sadism or fate and give in to this daemon and be one of his sexy harem girls, his pet. But still, Kassie tried as hard as she could to deny what her body knew to be the truth.

Because once she accepted it, she would be well and truly broken, an utterly helpless slut who had no thoughts left other than being a pleasure toy for her better-no! Her- her-

Kassie struggled, trying to think of how she felt about Baren, but trying to think of that only made her realize how sexy he was.

No!

No, she wouldn't – wouldn't give! She was Kassandra, no, she was the Night Haunter! This – this was an outrage!

Rallied by that sudden burst of courage, Kassandra felt confident, felt like –

You're being silly, Kassie!

What- who could have- who said that!

But the voice in her head just giggled. Don't you wanna get in touch with your feminine side?

Kassandra felt a surge of revulsion at the thought! She didn't want to – didn't – she didn't have a feminine side! Her preordained death, her vindication! She couldn't let it all go! She was justice incarnate! Fear made flesh! No matter what Baren said!

But the thought of baren set off the voice she instinctively knew was Kassie's.

Baren's such a kind master, isn't he? He's being so nice to us! Helping make us feel better. And's he sooooo attractive too, isn't he? No wonder Aurora loves him so much, I bet he makes her feel really, really good!

Kassandra tried to wretch, at the thought of him- of – why was the feeling getting stronger!

And Kassie continued, without pause or mercy. We should have always just wanted to feel good and get laid and not think about things! All those bad feelings can't hurt us anymore! We were so grumpy and mean, but now we can play with out big, fun titties and have a master who can think for us! And if we're a good girl, maybe he'll fuck us with his big hard cock!

With a desperate whine of dismay, Kassandra realized that her identity was fading again, that "The Night Haunter" was disintegrating into little more than a mess of old, bad memories of an angrier, more miserable life. She gasped, trying not to fully give in to Kassie, but it was so haaaaaard!

"I'm sure you feel so awful," Mast-Baren! Lectured, "for how you behaved before. But your pussy is doing so much to make up for what a murderous bitch you'd been. And you were a bitch, weren't you?"

A question. She had to answer. She couldn't not. Kassie tried to stop herself, but the words were already spilling out of her mouth. "I- I was!" She admitted, secretly rejoicing to finally confess it! "I was a bitch, I was such a biiiiiiiiiiitch!" she squealed, feeling as Baren's drove his fingers even deeper into her pussy. Terra, sex felt so goooood! Her mind was breaking and she didn't caaaaare! "And I'm soooooorry!" she continued, "I'm sorry I was such a bitch!"

"And you're willing to make up for it?"

"Yes!" she panted, "Yes, I-"

SMACK!

Kassie squealed as Baren gave her round ass a powerful smack. "Yes, what, Kassie?"

Ý-yes, master!" she corrected immediately, "Y-yes, Master!"

"Because…?"

"Because you're my master!" she cried.

Baren smirked cruelly. "Good girl," he whispered.

With those damning words, Kassie couldn't help but succumb to a massive orgasm, her limbs turning to rubber as she collapsed, flat on her back, moaning and giggling incoherently as she proclaimed, again and again, that she was her master's good girl, the only thing Kassie ever wanted to be and could ever strive for!

Eventually, she realized she was just a giggling slut, lying in her own naughty juices. Looking up at her master, his massive cock throbbing dangerously over her vulnerable and soaking wet pussy, Kassie couldn't help but grin. She'd been such a naughty bitch, and now he had to discipline her…

She couldn't wait.

-

Baren pinned the newly re-christened 'Kassie' up against the table, her dark hair fanning out behind her head like black ink spilling across its surface. Her bodysuit was easy to rip away more of while Kassie giggled her way through wild delirium, through the giggling excitement of her abrupt transformation. Being fucked dumb suited her just fine as she spread her legs out, and as he slammed his cock into her, she braced herself back against the table with her shoulders. His first thrust into her was already a dream come true, making her moan, "I needed you to take away those bad thoughts!" while delighting in the utter insanity behind these spectacles.

Wasting no time in hammering forward, Baren threw himself into this as hard as he could. From this position, her big tits had no choice but to bounce about madly, heaving up and down while he had his way with her. Kassie was completely addicted to these efforts and their ruinous excitements, an attention divorced from anything sensible or good. That was how she wanted it, her legs wrapping around his back as she clung to him. Kassie only wanted one thing, and she was thoroughly addicted in her desperate push forward to get it. She offered herself up as easy prey.

But how could she not when it felt so good? Every delirious moan from Kassie showed off just how ready she was to fall into the throes of chaos, to give in to these pleasures and all of their worsening pressures, a raw excitement to completely succumb to, letting the mindless pleasure keep pushing her into stranger heights of delight. She was dizzy, slutty, more than a little dumb, but Kassie had never felt happier than she did in that moment with her brain fully shut off, where all she could possibly understand was the sinful satisfaction of completely falling apart. She was happiest here. Blissful. It was all she wanted from now on.

Honestly, between her and Areia, Baren was doing these girls a favor.

There wasn't anything quite like the crushing joy of being subjugated like this. Her will wasn't hers, but she didn't care about any of that. She didn't need a will. She was just a silly girl with a dumb, empty head. Her tits were what was full now. So heavy, bouncing madly about while the raw slams stuffed her cunt and pounded hard into her. "You can do whatever you want to me. I'm just a little pale fuckdoll," she moaned. It felt liberating to say. She was having a blast here.

"Ignorance is bliss, isn't is, Kassie?" Baren asked, flashing a pearly white smile while he continued ravaging her, pushing Kassie's body along for his own satisfaction, driving her into worsening pleasures and excitements with each shove forward. This was so ridiculous and feverish, but the pleasure kept coming with such brilliant fire that it didn't matter. She just wanted more of this, bucking harder against the twisting fascination of giving up to all of this. It felt too good, driving her into stranger excitements and a depraved rush of pleasure that felt like the senseless pinnacle of lust now. This was so perfect, so fierce, and every ditzy fever made her feel better and better.

"Cum in me and make me happy. I don't want to be full of those bad feelings anymore, I want to be full of cum!" Kassie's eyes rolled back into her head as the pleasure of an orgasm like she had never known before burned through her. She'd never felt better than she did in the heat of the moment, in the throes of pure fascination and surrender. It was something truly beautiful, and she was powerless to fight how nice it felt, especially as he slammed into her and filled her up, made her squeal and twist through the mad delight of being pumped full. All his gooey, thick cum filled her womb up, made Kassie twist in a satisfaction unlike anything she'd known before, and it was the best argument anyone could have made for staying exactly like this. The pinnacle of ecstasy lay in surrender and submission.

Baren wasn't done with his new convert. He turned her over, bending her now over the table and grabbing her plus cheeks. The Daemon rammed his cock up her ass, and Kassie became an even louder, even more desperate mess, vocally appreciating only the crushing joy of being pushed to the limit. "Yes, fuck! Oh my god, your big dick up my ass feels amazing, I love sex! I'm such a slut now!"

Wild, purpose-driven slams into her made Kassie feel better and better, and she was happy to keep falling. Her descent was rapid, and Baren expected more of a fight out of her, but she rapidly broke down, body and mind, into one of his best works yet. "That's it, forget all about justice and the like. All that should matter is the pleasure," he groaned, keeping up the fiery thrills of a pace that made Kassie buckle under the delirium of pure ruin. She was powerless to fight it, growing more erratic and panicked by the second about the pleasures that had her completely lost to these feelings. It was enough to keep her happily losing her mind, to make everything feel like such a beautiful frontier of fire and fever that she couldn't keep her head on straight anymore. This was unreal, a frontier of persistent pleasures that didn't feel reasonable or sane, but which kept pushing her to the limit of beautiful sense.

 Drooling and babbling her way through sexual discoveries, Kassie was simply consumed by her lusts and by the joy of embracing her new lewd state. Within it, this all seemed better, and Kassie was happy to keep sliding, to fall into weirder passion and pleasure. This was too much, and she felt powerless to handle all of it. Pure euphoria followed, and it was simply too grand and too beautiful to resist now.

Kassie's big, round ass bounced while she got fucked, big and fuckable, as Baren hammered into her. Everything carried her into madder excitement, into the pleasures that couldn't be contained for a second. It was too much, and everything felt like a chance to fully fall to pieces. Kassie was all too happy to fall into the ludicrous hysterics of giving completely up, craving the maniacal fever and pleasure of pure surrender. It was too good to believe, inescapable and hot and bringing her what she needed harder by the second, feeding a sense of persistent desperation she was eager to continue succumbing to.

Anal was amazing. She wished she'd known sooner, but she was happy to learn now, her boots rooted firmly on the floor and every mad sense of pulsating fever inside of her begging Kassie to keep receiving these attentions. The pleasure was everything she craved, everything she could have wanted manifesting with dizzy sweeps across her thoughts, and she couldn't believe that it was all coming on so strong now. It was incredible, and she felt like she was right where she needed to be in the utter collapse of reason.

When she came, Kassie came hard. Even harder this time. It was euphoria burning across her bod and sending her spiraling into chaos, a pleasure she couldn't believe, but which brought her precisely what she craved all at once. The burning pleasures swept wilder across her, made her lose all focus and sense. Maniacal bliss ripped through her, had her moans and heaving about, struggling for sense and savoring only the delight of plunging into chaos. When the Daemon slammed forward and pumped her ass full of cum, she felt the dreamy, floaty joy consume her.

Kassie was fully consumed, fully transformed, and she was happier that way. Only one thought was left in her head as she shook through it, as Baren pulled out of her ass and her legs shook. She wanted to be a good girl now, but she had done something bad… "Master," she began hesitantly, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "I did a bad thing."

-

Lying deep within the bowels of the Nightfall was the brig, a place that in the hands of the Night Lords blended the lines between prison and torture room. The walls were streaked with faded blood and the air lingered with the coppery smell of it. A smell that was enhanced even further by the beyond human senses of the brig's current sole occupant. A giant amidst a ship crewed by them, chained to the walls like an animal. Her powerful and curvaceous body heaving with battered breath left from hours of fruitless struggling. The prisoner's ashen skin blended seamlessly into the near pitch darkness of the cell, only her blazing red eyes could be seen from the black.

That darkness was suddenly broken as the doors to her cell opened with a powerful hiss of steam, and a figure appeared at the door. Temporarily blinded by the sudden rush of light, the prisoner could only make out their visitor's silhouette, but even that was enough for her to discern their identity. Those red eyes narrowed with a mixture of recognition, hate… and trepidation, as the carnal memories of their last encounter came flooding back.

"You." The prisoner hissed.

The figure grinned, pearly white teeth glinting in the darkness. "Hello, Vulkana." Baren purred, like the cat who caught the canary. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The Primarch of the Salamanders knelt before him, her powerful arms raised above her head by the shackles that kept her in place. This had the added bonus of thrusting her gigantic tits out, her armor and clothing long stripped away by the former Kassandra Curze. It was a sight Baren took pleasure in, especially as this time he didn't have to share it with himself. The sight also served to amuse him somewhat. The fact that Kassandra had managed to capture Vulkana during the Isstvan V massacre and carry her off to the Nightfall with no one the wiser managed to impress even him.

 Vulkana glared up at him, a glare that momentarily faltered when he stepped closer, as she realized she was eye level with his belt line. She swallowed, her face heating up as she was reminded of their last meeting. "W-what are you doing here?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Visiting another one of your sisters," Baren admitted freely. A cruel glint crossed his onyx eyes, and his grin turned wicked. "In fact… Kassie, why don't you say hi to your sister?"

The brief look of confusion on Vulkana's face soon turned to horror and outrage as the newly-minted Kassie Curze timidly walked into the room. The former Night Haunter was a perverted shadow of her former shelf, her body left bare, exposing every scarred inch of her voluptuous and busty body, her grim visage now that of some well-trained bordello slut mixed with a docile puppy. Before Vulkana had any time to react, 'Kassie' was upon her, though not in the way she might have expected. Rather than attempting to tear into her with the savagery of a feral animal, the former Kassandra Curze flung her arms around her sister, squishing their massive breasts together as she whimpered into the crook of Vulkana's neck.

"I'm sowwyyy!!!" Came Kassie's partially muffled apology, and Vulkana's brain struggled to keep up with the surreal whiplash of what was currently happening. "I-I was so mean to you a-and I'm sorry!" The fact that the infamous sadist and killer sounded close to tears as she babbled apology after apology did little to help Vulkana to process.

"W-wha… What did you do to her?" Vulkana asked of Baren, her eyes wide and mouth gaping.

The Daemon grinned. "I made her better!" He proudly declared. "Took all that hate and bitterness and poof! Sent it aaalll packing away."

"Kassie's been a baaaaaaad girl," Curze giggled, "Needed her, mmmm, big, strong Master to, mmmm," she nuzzled her head on Vulkana's gravity-defying bosom, "teach her how to be goooooood."

Vulkana was torn between abject horror and untold satisfaction at seeing Curze, the sister who stood in direct defiance of everything Vulkana has faith in, reduced to this simpering, addled bimbo. As though picking up on her emotional turmoil, Baren casually added. "If it makes you feel better, she was apparently planning to torture you horrifically in some deluded quest to prove that deep down you were just as monstrous as her." He didn't really follow Curze's logic, or the absence of logic anyway, but surely his way was better.

Though perhaps not, as Vulkana made no attempt to thank him for his generosity. Oh, speaking of generosity. Baren held out a hand and summoned forth a very familiar hammer. Vulkana's red eyes immediately fell on Urdrakule, her beloved thunder hammer. He placed it on the ground and knelt before Vulkana, his onyx eyes boring into hers. "I can send you back to your Legion, you know~" He teased, running a large hand through her ivory tresses. "They're going to need their mother now that they're almost extinct."

Vulkana's face paled as the true extent of her legion's dire state was revealed to her. Yet she remained suspicious of her ravisher, narrowing her eyes at the Daemon. "And why would you do that?" she asked, voicing her suspicions. "Wouldn't it be more beneficial for Isis if you simply left me here?"

Baren smirked. "What the Warmaster doesn't know won't hurt her," he lied. He leaned in close, and Vulkana had no way to know if he was about to pounce atop her, or just let his breath tickle her cheek. "Though if you want to stay…" She gasped as he fondled her breast, pinching her nipple. "We can take a few hours to catch up ~" Despite being much gentler than he'd been, she was still sore, and her delicate flesh sang with both pleasure and pain. She shivered as he bit the lobe of her ear, and trailed his tongue down her neck. Pushing her onto her back, Baren, gave a soft chuckle as he reached between her legs. "Wet already? I tend to have that effect…" Vulkana snapped to her senses, shoving his hands away, and scrambling out of his reach as he watched her with a snicker.

"S-send me home!" She feebly tried to demand; the effect undermined slightly by the vibrant blush on her face.

Baren chucked, and, with a snap of his fingers, Vulkana and her hammer alike vanished, sent back to their wounded legion. The Daemon smiled, and idly ran a hand through Kassie's hair as she nuzzled up to him. He almost regretted letting her go. It had been a while since he devoured a fellow perpetual, the last one John something, had been a couple of centuries ago. A warning to the Cabal not to interfere with Slaanesh's plans. He'll give Vulkana a few centuries, let her age a little more. A few more years of life would sweeten the taste of her soul.

Besides, he had bigger game to hunt and the trail led back to Terra.