What if the Primarchs were Women?

'Moored' in the upper exosphere of the Imperial Mining World of Cthonia, the Gloriana-Class battleship known as The Vengeful Spirit, the very flagship of the Imperial Warmaster Isis Lupercal herself, was waiting. Just what it was waiting for soon became apparent as the fabric of real-space was torn asunder not too far from where the ship was stationed. From this relatively small tear in the fabric of the Materium, exited a second Gloriana-Class vessel, this one proudly displaying the grim skull heraldry of the 14th or Death Guard Legion of Astartes, the legion of the Primarch Morticia of Barbarus. The Flagship of the Death Guard, known to the Imperium of Man as the Endurance, safely made the exit of the Warp, its Warp-Drives shutting off as the tear in space-time closed behind them. From this mighty sister-ship, a much smaller craft left from its bay, crossing the brink of Void between the two ships, and hailed the Spirit.

Aboard the Thunderhawk, the Primarch Morticia stood near the back of the craft, her face hidden beneath both the heavy woolen shroud and the cumbersome breathing apparatus affixed over her mouth and nose. The gaseous device hissed, and the Primarch inhaled a deep breath of the toxic and near-lethal atmosphere of her homeworld. Such a noxious and potent vapor would kill a lesser being, even among her most durable of daughters, but Morticia was different. She was a Primarch, she had been forced to live off the damnable mixture for years under the thumb of the Xeno overlords of Barbarus. Even now, thinking of the years of humiliation and torment forced upon her by her so-called 'father' boiled her blood.

But those years were far behind her now, she acknowledged, unclenching one heavy fist. She had scoured Barbarus of the Xeno psykers that had plagued it and reclaimed it in the name of humanity. Even if vengeance against her 'father' had been denied to her…

"My lady, we're boarding the Vengeful Spirit now." The words came from one of the mortal crew of the Thunderhawk, dragging Morticia from her choleric thoughts.

She waved the words away dismissively. "Alright," she muttered as the Thunderhawk came to a juddering stop within the Spirit's launch bay. She stepped forward and her loyal Death Shroud Terminators took position around her, their great man-reaper scythes held like the gleaming weapons of warrior-queens. The presence of her legion's elites wasn't strictly necessary, but there was still a level of expectation that came when two Primarchs met. This wasn't a casual talk between sisters, this was a meeting of warlords and legends. A certain level of pageantry was demanded. "Time to see what 'the Warmaster' wants."

Primarch Morticia of the Death Guard stepped aboard the Warmaster's flagship and was immediately met with the stares of the mortal crew members. Morticia and her daughters marched, disdainful of the slack-jawed gaping of the mortals around them. They might have been disappointed, actually. Morticia was not like her vapid prancing peacock of a sister Freya, or the Warp-damned sorcerer Hecate the Red. Her armor didn't gleam like starlight and had no ostentious jewels embedded on its surface. Its bronze and cream-colored plating was dim and dented, grimy with oil and caked with dirt. Her cloak was of a plain and roughly hewn material dyed olive green. Her daughters' heavy terminator armor and man-reapers were much the same way; kept in pristine function, but blatantly well-used. The only medals and trophies that adorned their plate were the marks they earned in battle, the dents of bullets and blades and the stains of toxic and hostile environments. Arms and armor used by the Death Guard were maintained not cleaned or polished. It reflected their tactics, their modus operandi; above all else, endure.

Primarch Isis of the Daughters of Isis and her 'Mournival' were there to meet Morticia and her entourage. To Morticia's surprise, Isis wasn't the only Primarch there. Aurora Aurelian stood by their sister's side, that smug, holier-than-thou smirk stuck to her face as usual. Morticia bit back a sneer. She was admittedly curious however as to what could have made the 'Warmaster' felt she needed the aid of two other Primarchs?

Isis stepped forward as Morticia approached. "Sister," she began pleasantly. "Welcome back to the Vengeful Spirit."

"Warmaster," Morticia responded curtly. "I heard you nearly died."

Morticia privately took a moment to enjoy the way Isis's pleasant mask briefly faltered at the reminder of her near-death experience. Seems the 'Warmaster' didn't like being reminded of her own mortality. To Isis's meager credit, she recovered swiftly.

"Reports of my injuries were…greatly exaggerated, sister." Isis waved away Morticia's remark with feigned levity.

"Hmmph, so you say." Morticia huffed, her breathing apparatus hissing. She turned to her other sister, the Aurelian, simply observing her and the Warmaster's interaction with that same self-satisfied smile on her face. "And what of you, Aurora? How goes your…'conversion?'" Again, Morticia was privately satisfied at the brief lividness that crossed Aurora's face.

Whatever retort the Aurelian had on her tongue however was cutoff by Isis. Why … don't we save conversation for the command deck, hmm? Let's not take up any more of our legions' time, shall we sisters?"

Morticia crossed her arms over her chest and grunted. "As you wish." Turning toward her Death Shroud Terminators, she waved her elites away. "You are dismissed. Go…mingle." Her daughters nodded as one, understanding the hidden meaning behind their mother's words. 'Mingle' actually meant 'Test yourselves against the Warmaster's terminators. Do Not disappoint me.' Isis dismissed her Mournival and the three sisters adjourned to the command deck of the Vengeful Spirit. Or rather, what had once been the Spirit's command deck. The room had been heavily altered since the last time Morticia had set foot inside. Now it more closely resembled a throne room, a heavy throne dominated the raised dais of the Strategium and the tattered banners bearing some twisting unknow symbol hung from the walls. It eerily reminded Morticia of her 'father's' stronghold, stretching high into Barbarus's toxic atmosphere, where even her superior physiology strained against each choking breath. The psyker bastard would regularly drag her up there to watch her gasp and gag for breath for his amusement and that of his court's.

The command deck was left empty save for the Primarchs and Isis immediately took to her throne. "Sisters," she began. "In recent times, a terrible truth has been revealed to me. Our mother, the Empress of Mankind, has retreated to Terra to cultivate a cult of personality focused solely on her as the divine savior of the Imperium. We, our sisters, and our loyal daughters are to be swept aside, forgotten and forsaken in favor of fallible and mundane human sycophants and High Lords."

Morticia took an involuntary step back from the throne, shocked to her core by her sister's declaration. Their mother, the Empress of Mankind, was plotting to spit in the face of everything the Great Crusade stood for, everything the Imperium stood for, all for her own ego? As she slowly started to come down from her own shock, Morticia's thoughts hardened. No, it actually made too much sense. It was only the natural conclusion to their mother's goals. The Empress's ego knew no bounds, just like Morticia's father's. She had spared the Librarians when they should have been hunted down and killed to the last, encouraged the Martian Mechanicum's adulation of her as their 'Omnisiah', it only made perfect sense that divinity was their mother's true end goal.

Morticia ripped her breathing apparatus from around her lips and asked Isis in a low and demanding voice. "And what is your plan then, Warmaster? We cannot allow this insanity to spread!"

"I am well aware of that, Morticia," Isis answered, her voice infuriatingly calm. "Rest assured, sister, we won't allow this stand. Even now, the foundation of a grand and righteous rebellion is being laid down. The Titan Legions, The Mechanicum of Mars, even many of our own sisters are more than ready to join us. In a Terran years' time, maybe even less, we will be more than ready to march on Terra and rip our mother down from her pedestal of worship."

"And who among our sisterhood is ready to strike out against the Empress, hmm?" Morticia asked, her face a vicious sneer. She gestured at the still silent Aurora. "The Aurelian, what will she do? Evangelize the enemy to death?"

"Rude," Aurora muttered.

Morticia and Isis both steadily ignored her. The Warmaster attempted to cool the 14th Primarch's fatalism. "Of course, it won't be just the three of us, Morticia. Areia, Kassandra, Petra, Hecate, perhaps even Freya and the Khan will see the righteousness of our cause."

Her words, however, did little to ease Morticia's incredulity. Indeed, the Primarch of the Death Guard seemed to only get more outraged. "Areia?" She scoffed incredulously. "Curze? You expect to trust the fate of the Imperium in the hands of a feral dog and an insane seer? You're so-called 'righteous rebellion' will be fought by an army of broken sadists and mutilated monsters?"

Isis frowned. "Watch your tone, sister," the Warmaster took a deep breath. "And no, it will not just be mortal warriors who shall fight by our side. I have come to the conclusion that in order to defeat our mother, we may have to ally with the forces of the Warp."

Morticia reeled back from her sister's declaration, refusing to believe what she had just heard. Isis Lupercal, the Warmaster, the apple of their mother's eyes, had suggested they ally themselves with the creatures of the Warp against their mother? Morticia had seen firsthand the cancerous touch that was the Warp and those who could use it. Her xeno father and his overlords would use their unnatural abilities to create beings of corpulent and diseased flesh from the carcasses of their serfs, animating their bodies with corruptive psychic energies. It was unnatural, a cancer and she would have no part of it.

"Madness…" Morticia whispered. "This is madness, and I won't let you drag me down with you, Isis!"

The Warmaster leaned back into her mighty throne, her face eerily expressionless. "I am surprised at you, Morticia. I thought you would have taken any chance you could to strike back against the Empress."

"Not this way," Morticia hissed at the Lupercal. "Should this madness pass you, sister, then you may feel free to contact me again. Until that day, however, I will have no more to do with this talk of Warp nonsense and psykers."

The Primarch of the Death Guard stormed out of the command deck not soon after, her Death Shroud Terminators loyally following behind their mother as she returned to her own flagship. The Endurance soon left, leaving the Vengeful Spirit alone once more in the upper atmosphere of Cthonia.

The Warmaster made no move to stop her sister, and simply remained on her throne. As soon as the doors to the Strategium sealed shut however, she groaned and pinched her brow. Behind her, Baren slipped into real-space, his form shimmering and flickering as it dropped its disguise.

"That was handled rather…poorly, if you don't mind my saying, Isis." There was no mistaking the disappointment in his tone. Isis didn't let out a pitiful whine like Aurora did (honestly have some self-respect, sister) at his displeasure, but a part of her had to resist flinching at words. Only because of how it made her look, of course. It wasn't as if she cared if she pleased Baren or not. Obviously.

Any excuse the Warmaster or the Aurelian could have come up with went unsaid, however. Baren simply raised one clawed hand, cutting them off before they could get a word in. "It seems I'll just have to convince Primarch Morticia myself." The Daemon Prince of Slaanesh grinned toothily, his many sharp teeth glinting in the light of the command deck. "This will be very entertaining." With a loud crack! Baren disappeared from the Vengeful Spirit.

-

Back aboard the Endurance, the Primarch Morticia was stewing in her outrage. Upon her return to her flagship, she had given strict orders to her captains that she was not to be disturbed and retreated to her private quarters. The Primarch angrily took a huff off of her breathing apparatus, taking to the lethal fumes like an alcoholic took to spirits. The very nerve of Isis, asking her, her of all their sisters to side with her in using psykers. True, Morticia despised her mother, the Empress had had the audacity to deny Morticia her rightly deserved vengeance against her xeno 'father', but Morticia hated psykers and the Warp even more.

It was in this state that Baren found his latest target. Sitting on her bed in a surly huff like a spoiled governor's daughter who had been denied getting her way. It was almost cute. He slithered into the Primarch's chamber, unseen in his hidden form. He remained so as he stalked closer to Morticia, admiring her curvaceous body hidden under her chiton. He leaned in until his lips were close to brushing against Morticia's ear before asking; "So, is sulking what you do, or are you just having an off day?"

Morticia's eyes widened, and she immediately swung her fist into the direction of the voice. Baren leapt back with ease, chuckling as he did so. "I have to say, I'm impressed by your reflexes," he admitted as he easily dodged another heavy-handed attack from the startled Primarch. "I was told that you Death Guard girls were rather slow."

"Who are you?" Morticia demanded, still trying to bludgeon this strange-looking intruder with her fist. Her armor and weapons had been stored in the Endurance's armory. She was completely unarmed. That wouldn't stop her, however. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh, well I let myself in," Baren casually answered. He was actually getting pretty bored with just dodging the enraged Primarch. With a great sweeping motion of his wings, he took to the air above her, floating just out of Morticia's reach. It was actually pretty amusing watching one of the taller Primarch's actually be too short to be able to catch him and just watch her futilely jumping into the air. Her ineffective jumping also had the added benefit of giving him a nice show, watching her ample bust bounce behind her thin chiton. "I'm Baren, by the way. Nice to meet you, Primarch Morticia."

Eventually, Morticia finally realized that she wasn't going to reach him and instead rushed over to the inter-vox by her door. Pressing a button, she hissed into the machine; "There's an intruder in the ship, send a detachment of Terminators to my quarters immediately."

The machine didn't answer, only emitting the static hissing of an empty vox channel. Morticia growled to herself, fully aware of Baren's smug amused look behind her. "She punched to activated switch for the door, only for the heavy entrance to remain close. With a hate-filled snarl, the Primarch smashed her fist into the door, trying to pry it open, only for it to refuse to budge, even in the face of her incredible strength. Behind her, Baren snickered.

"You didn't honestly think it would be that easy, did you?"

Morticia spun around on her heel to face him. "You will be quiet!" She snapped.

"Aww, but I didn't even get to say why I'm here yet," the Daemon mockingly whined, pouting.

Morticia bit back her instinctive retort. The daemon had unwittingly drifted closer to the ground almost within her reach. Her apparatus was still draped around her neck, still pumping the toxic air of Barbarus. Surely such a poisonous mixture could prove enough to weaken a psyker? Morticia would never admit this to anyone for as long as she lived, but she was afraid of what this Daemon might do to her if her plan failed. So, might as well let him keep talking.

"And just why are you here?" The Primarch demanded, planting her fists on her wide hips. She puffed out her chest, hoping to look like the image of control and strength. Instead, all she achieved was offering up her big fat tits to the lecherous daemon's grasping hands. Baren was more than tempted to take the Primarch up on that offer… but no. Not yet anyway, let her cook just a little longer before he tucked in.

"To tell you that you should reconsider you're the Warmaster's offer."

Morticia's already dour face soured even further. "Oh, you're one of the Warp creatures, aren't you?" The Primarch huffed and crossed her arms under her chest, unknowingly propping up her already very prominent bust. "I don't need help from you or your psykers to win." She pretended to glance away, but kept the daemon just out the corner of her eye. His tail was almost in reach, flicking back and forth lazily.

Almost…

"I think it might be in your best interest to recon-wagh!"

Got it!

While the Daemon was distracted, Morticia struck! As fast as a serpent, she snatched the Daemon's spade-tipped tail and dragged him down to the ground, pinning him underneath her voluptuous form. Before Baren even had a chance to struggle, Morticia ripped the gasmask from around her neck and forced over the Daemon's mouth, pumping in as much of Barbarus's toxic atmosphere as she could. It was not until the reserves were completely empty did she let the mask fall from her grip, only to be forcibly shoved away by a hacking and gagging Baren.

"Disgusting," the Daemon rasped, sounding more offended by the taste of the poisonous gas than by the attack itself. Still, the attack did little to slow him down, much to Morticia's horror. He seized the shivering Primarch by her throat and tossed her onto her bed with one arm. He immediately pinned her down in a reverse of their earlier position. Her grabbed Morticia by her white hair and tugged her head back, his lips hovering over her gasping mouth,

"I've had a taste of yours," he muttered darkly, glaring into her wide eyes. "Have a hit of mine."

He then preceded to give Morticia the most savage kiss of her life. It was like he was devouring her, like he was wolfing her down! Time and time again, he firmly pressed his lips against hers. First, he turned his head to the left, opening and closing his mouth. Then he took her from the right, forked tongue worming into her mouth. Each time the seal between their lips was broken, thick red mist poured from Baren's mouth, filling up Morticia's lungs, her blood! When Baren withdrew, he left her panting. The kissed left her leaking from her lips, her eyes…her pussy, her body was hot with a strange and invasive fever.

"Mmmm…" Baren chuckled darkly, he got off of Morticia and took a seat beside her on her bed. "How bout a little wager, Morticia? A friendly little game?"

"W-what kind of game?" Morticia asked, shivering. She didn't like how close Baren was, forcing her to retreat further up her bed to put space between them. Her chambers were spartan and humid, and the air was stale and thick with the scent of aphrodisia. She found herself feeling more and more like a cornered animal, like she was being goaded into a cage.

"It's just a harmless little game, don't worry," Barne 'reassured her', wrapping a friendly arm around her and dragging the paling Morticia closer, rubbing her shoulder in a far too familiar way. "If you win, I leave you and your sisters alone and you fight your rebellion without my help."

"…And if I lose?" Morticia couldn't help but ask. She knew she shouldn't have indulged the thought at all. There was no possible way this Daemon could beat her at anything. Still…

Baren smiled, as though he was hoping she would ask. "Then you and your sisters belong to me." He hissed, his lips brushing against the blushing Primarch's ear.

Morticia's already pale face lost what little color it had upon hearing the Daemon's ultimatum. This psyker… this Daemon… he would have her and her sisters as his slaves, as his pets, toying and tormenting them for his amusement. Just like her father…just like the Empress. Morticia shook the dire thoughts out of her and drew what resolve he had left. No, she wouldn't let it come to that. She would beat this Daemon and prove that they didn't need the Warp to win.

"I…I accept!" Morticia declared, not sounding nearly as sure of herself as she had hoped.

Baren only grinned, every razor-sharp tooth gleaming. "Game on, then." He said. To Morticia's shock, Baren tugged down his pants and freed his cock – and to her greater shock it turned out he was fucking massive. Morticia squawked in surprise as he brought that thick-headed behemoth out into the light. She gulped and scurried away, pressing her back against the wall, wanting to retreat but seeing nowhere to run. "What are you doing!?" she demanded, averting her eyes and blocking the line of sight with one hand.

"What?" Baren asked, mockingly innocent. "This is the game, Morticia. We each get ten minutes to try and make the other cum. If you can get me to cum before I can make you do the same, you win. If not…" The words went unsaid, the hanging sword over her head well and clear to the blushing Primarch. He put his arm back around her, drawing her back in firmly until her gargantuan breasts were heaped up on his chest, titflesh spilling down his pecs and all over his abs. He cupped her chin. "It should be child's play for a Primarch, shouldn't it?"

With another toothy smirk, the Daemon pressed against Morticia, shoving her off the bed. "Up, up. On your knees now, Morticia."

Morticia let out a small yelp as she ungracefully slid to the floor, falling on her knees and between Baren's legs. She whimpered as she looked up to see Baren's cock looming over her. It stood proudly, casting a shadow over her face. She stared at it cross-eyed, with the mammoth of a shaft being mere inches from her plump lips.

"M-my knees?" Morticia asked, uncertain. Baren chuckled at her naivety, giving her a condescending pat on the head like she was a pet who had done something adorable.

"Yes, Morticia, your knees. You do know how to give a blowjob, don't you?"

Morticia felt her pale face turn red at the Daemon's teasing and grew frustrated at how easily he was able to toy with her. Why should she feel bad that she didn't have much experience in the bedroom? She was a Warlord, not a hive-city hooker!

Still, that was one big cock…

Morticia shook herself out of her daze. She remembered the objective. Right. Just make him cum and get him to leave. Simple as that. Terra, he was big. She might have a hard time. No. There was no room for thoughts like that. Isis better be grateful for the things Morticia did for her.

"Ten minutes, Morticia. Tick Tock…"

"Shut up!" Morticia said, her intended commanding bark coming out more like a whimpering plea. Still, Morticia went to work, reaching a trembling hand up towards that monolithic cock. She slowly, clumsily pumped up and down a few inches of the shaft, more exploratory than anything. Morticia looked at the floor, gulped, and very slowly and consciously began to open her mouth.

"Ahhh~" Her plump pink lips fell open, and Baren bucked his hips forward and depressed her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. Its squirming stopped abruptly, all available space in her mouth now taken up with daemoncock. Precum splashed onto the roof of her mouth as Morticia uncertainly began to bob her head up and down. Time seemed to stop as her mouth was stretched out around Baren's cock.

With every slick, sweaty inch of cock that slowly pushed its way into her overstretched mouth, Morticia's worry began to deepen. This had been a questionable idea to start, but now that it was in her mouth, her brain was struggling to keep up with her senses. There was that thick, musky taste, that stench of sweat and manliness, that dripping, lingering flavor of precum and cock that seeped into her taste buds for the first time. Her eyes widened, glancing rapidly, helplessly, from a cross-eyed stare at the huge dick slipping into her open mouth to Baren's confident, grinning expression. Her own expression was all confusion, her eyes overwhelmed and pleading.

Feeling yet more gooey mess start to dribble and spurt from the tip, she sort of coughed, gagged slightly, but all it served to was instantly slip her down another inch of that enormous pillar of pure, intimidating, daemonhood. Baren felt that there was lot to be desired.

"Come on now, Morticia. Surely that's not the best you've got?" He mockingly asked, causing the Primarch to whimper. "Why don't you use those fat tits of yours? Or would you rather ask one of your sisters for help?"

"I don't-" Morticia tried briefly to defend herself even as she did what she was told. She reached up and grabbed the top of her chiton and pulled it down below her breasts with one great tug, exposing her huge pale tits to the hot musk-filled air of the room. With her tits heaving in the open, she brought her hands to their flanks and lifted them high up. Parting them, Morticia leaned forward and wrapped her enormous cool pillows around her throbbing shaft, gasping at how hot his skin felt against her cool tit-flesh.

 "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised." The Daemon drawled, a malicious grin on his face as he leered at the cornered, curvy Primarch. "You still needed mommy to save you on Barbarus didn't you?"

Morticia froze, a quiet, unfamiliar dread creeping up her spine. Eyes wide, she stared at the Daemon Prince in unsettled uncertainty, even as she continued to drag her heavy tits up and down his cock. "H-how do you know that?" She hated how weak she sounded. How easily this psyker had managed to catch her off guard, managed to trap her in her own sanctum. How had she allowed this to happen?

"Know what, Morticia?" The Daemon mockingly asked. "That you were too weak to kill your father yourself? That you tripped on the final hurdle and needed the Empress to come save your sorry hide? That despite all your talk and bravado, you couldn't even accomplish a single revolt without mommy's help?"

"I-I could have!" Morticia pitifully tried to defend herself. She squeezed her rack even tighter around Baren's cock, pressing soft, submissive kisses to the head. Their body language was certainly something to see. Baren, so confident, so powerful, aggressive even, leaning towards her. "Th-the Xeno…he cheated. He was too afraid to face me. He knew he didn't have a chance without the toxins." And then you had Morticia: shrunken back, squirming, glancing away weakly. Her posture was reserved, defensive, as she feebly insisted that her defeat was a fluke.

Baren called bull. "Or maybe he just didn't think you were worth the effort?" Morticia had to bite back a whine at the Daemon's cruel words. The Primarch furiously worked her large boobs up and down Baren's length. Squeezing her fat tits around the shaft tightly, it towered out of her cleavage as she worked her breasts. Terra, she was getting hot. She was getting very hot. She had no idea how long she had been at this. He had to be getting close, right? Morticia backed up her titjob by licking the head of his cock, and taking it into her mouth a little She felt his shaft trembling…

Morticia let out a mortified squeal as Baren began to cum, her efforts to tug her head away powerless against the grip he had on her. A thick, hot tide of semen bubbled forth from the head of his cock, the tip opened up all the way as it struggled to keep up with the volume he was pumping out! First shot, second shot, third shot... His cum kept pouring out, each trembling ejaculation barely clear of the head and white-washing her mouth before the successive one was rocketing up behind it, pushing spunk out with even more force and pressure!

Baren threw his head and groaned somewhere around the seventh shot, and finally loosened his grip. Morticia was free to collapse onto the floor, the poor girl sucking in dear gasps. A waterfall of daemoncum oozed out of her mouth as she clutched her chest, thinking the nightmare was finally over... But that thought only lasted until long ropes of semen lashed across her back like flamer blasts! She was getting soaked!

He gripped her shoulder, turned the girl back to face him. Morticia barely had time to organze her thoughts before Baren forced his cock back in her mouth. Just in time for the tenth shot, and all the ones after it. Any semen that might have dribbled out of her mouth during her short-lived respite was now being ruggedly forced down her throat!

"You bastard!" Morticia squawked, trying in vain to wipe her mouth clean. Her tits jiggled with every protest, the slightest movement sending those heavy orbs swaying. "Fuck!" she yelped, quickly reaching down. Without warning, she gripped her top at the hem and swiped it off over her head in one smooth, clean movement.

Morticia's top-heavy form was finally bared in full, her titanic titties bouncing unevenly at the sudden yank of dampened fabric, jiggling and swaying with their own weight and momentum, as she hurriedly mopped up with her garment. All she cared about was cleaning up and getting that horrible sticky slime off of her!

As soon as she had managed to get most of Baren's cum off of her, the Daemon seized the shivering Primarch by the hair and casually tossed her onto her back atop her bed. Her legs opened up instinctive, thick thighs shooting apart to welcome in any and every of Baren's cruel desires.

"Don't be such a sore loser, Morticia." The Primarch's eyes widened in horror. Loser? No, there was no way she lost! But, Morticia dimly realized that Baren was telling the truth. It had been more than ten minutes. She had lost…and now Baren was going to have his turn. Too fast for Morticia to escape, the Prince rolled toward her, hooked an arm around her hip, and tugged her toward him. His strong hands easily guided her to just where he wanted. In less time than it took to wink he had pulled her slit to his face.

"Fuck!" Straddling the Prince's face, Morticia could do little more than look down as Baren first licked, then sucked, her clit. With hands on her upper thighs, the Daemon held Morticia in place confidently while his tongue explored her tender flesh. The sensation was blissful. The Prince took his time, drawing out the experience, sending jolts of cruel pleasure darting into her. Morticia's thighs began to tremble in his cruel grip.

"It's so sweet," Baren groaned. His tongue was circling her clit rhythmically.

"No, please," Morticia gasped. It was wrong. The Daemon was melting away her resistance. His every touch weakened her, the intoxicatingly sweet press of his lips and tongue against her slit. She was sliding toward orgasm. How had she gone so wrong? "TERRA!" Morticia cried out in bliss, having a massive orgasm. It was unlike any she had ever felt––it just kept going and going.

Baren spoke, a rough edge creeping into his voice. "It's time for me to claim my prize."

Morticia's mouth opened wider, shoulders rising in fright and eager anticipation as Baren's heavy cock slapped down on her belly, flinging a lazy rope of precum up her right tit and all the way to her jawline. She couldn't believe what was happening – how had everything gone so wrong? Now a Daemon was about to make her his whore.

Baren pushed his hips forward, driving his monstercock up her belly all the way to her tits. She blinked at the broad, pink cockhead protruding between her breasts, so massive it nearly surmounted her entire torso. Oh Teraa…this thing was gonna destroy her… As he pulled back, she wet her lips and tried to beg, but she found she couldn't speak: her breath was too short, her tongue too tied with nerves, and all she could do was bite her lip as Baren lifted her legs again, lifting her rump, getting her in position for the mating press of a lifetime. She was doomed…

At last, Baren rose into a squat and pressed his cockhead against her soaking pussylips. Morticia almost came just from the touch, shuddering and groaning, folding her hands behind her head. She knew there was no way out…but that just made the whole situation hotter. As Baren pressed his cockhead firmly inside her, she eeped and tensed…and timidly met his burning eyes. "Haah…what…?" she asked, when she noticed he'd gone still.

Baren was just making sure he was secure inside her, finding his angle. A moment later, Morticia's eyes flew back in her head as he rocked forwards, lifted his hips, and brought them down in a thrashing assault on Morticia's asscheeks. She howled in bliss as Baren's daemoncock vanished and appeared, vanished and appeared, pounding in and out of her sensitive cunt at a furious pace! Her pussy clung to his cock, tugged rapidly in and out by his wall-stretching girth while her asscheeks bobbled sweatily around. Her tits leapt up to her chin as she wailed for mercy, only for her mouth to be covered by Baren's chest as he buried her beneath his mass. The muscular stud pumped her cunt like she belonged to him, stirring up her insides with his giant daemoncock until she couldn't even think straight. Tears trickled down her crimson cheeks, weeping in the depths of pleasure, clinging to Baren's shoulders as he launched a machine-like assault on her poor, unprotected pussy. She'd never taken anything so big before; he was stretching her out so that no other man would ever be able to pleasure her. As her bliss climbed and climbed, her cries grew shakier and more hoarse. Her body simply couldn't contain the voluminous ecstasy Baren seemed intent on filling her up with: she came first, her thighs rippling as she lifted her hips up higher and squirted like a broken faucet, spraying her own goofy, ahegao-ing face with clear juices as Baren kept on pumping her cunt. He ruined her with brutal intent, slamming his fist-sized nuts into her asscheeks with every thrust – and when Morticia laid a hand on her belly, she felt the hot cockbulge lurching up and down, up and down, punching so hard and deep that, right now, her womb was probably located somewhere behind her tits.

"N-Nooo!" Morticia crooned as she hit a second orgasm. She was totally losing control, sinking deeper into a mire of bliss from which there was no escape. Her face painted bright red, her tongue flapping around outside her mouth, she became nothing more than a toy for Baren's pleasure: he hammered her without mercy or remorse, taking out his pent-up frustrations on her poor pussy, anger energizing him long past the point any other man would have grown exhausted. "Hngh-ghuh-ghuh-huaah!" Her asscheeks rippling, tits bouncing, belly bulging… Morticia's vision blurred. There was no use in fighting it: this pleasure was all-consuming, and she wanted it to consume her, so why resist at all? She groaned into Baren's chest, then bit his collarbone gently, grasping her own ankles next to her ears so he could squeeze her tits as he fucked her. Yesss… This was what she needed, what she'd longed for without knowing it – to be treated like a bimbo whore, to be fucked and discarded by a superior male, who only cared about blasting a load into her slutty, cock-pleasing pussy… What could be more depraved than that?

"Fuck," Baren growled as he got close to orgasm, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, resisting the urge to blast her womb straight away. He still needed to punish Morticia some more, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it. He rolled her over, maneuvering her on his cock without pulling out, until she was on all fours and he was leaning over her fat ass. He swatted her rump hard, and as it wobbled juicily from side to side, he started to thrust again – harder than ever, clobbering her cervix with his meaty shaft until her eyes rolled all the way back into her head, rocking her back and forth on her hands and knees while her huge tits swung between her biceps!

"B-Baren--!" Morticia wheezed, too startled to say anything else. "Baren!" She clenched her teeth as she came again, squirting her slippery fem-load down Baren's thighs while her sweat-shining ass continued to ripple and clap against his hips. This wasn't sex – it was a red-hot breeding session, and Morticia wanted nothing more than to feel Baren's virile cum cascading off the walls of her womb!

She got her wish a moment later, as Baren grasped her waist and pulled her towards him, lifting her onto her knees and hooking an arm around her neck, holding her back against his powerful body as he erupted a giant, surging load. Morticia gurgled as her womb filled up, her eyes narrowing and glistening with tears. Baren guided her right hand to her belly, and she felt her own stomach swelling around his gooey shots of jizz, one after another, straining her inner walls until she felt like she'd burst! He caught her pale hair between his teeth and tugged, laying claim to her body in a primal, savage manner, making her understand how things had changed between them.

At last, he leaned forwards, pressing her slowly under him until he was lying flat on her body. He didn't pull out, but rested inside her, occasionally stirring his hips. Morticia, meanwhile, was squished into the bedsheets, forced to breathe through the blanket's material, groaning in sweet bliss as she felt Baren's cock softening in her cunt.

-

Isis looked up from where she impatiently pacing across her throne room, and blushed furiously at the sight of Baren carrying a moaning and cum-coated Morticia in his arms.

"I managed to talk her into it."