Work Text:
She should have known better. In all their time fighting alongside one another, Kerillian had never considered the Ubersreik Five to be ‘allies’, more ‘enemies of enemies’. Sure, the Dwarf was amusing and Markus had his charms, but now that she found herself captured by the Beastmen, Kerillian could only regret her valiant sacrifice.
The foul, wretched monsters gathered to watch as the hated Asrai warrior was humiliated and shamed before the herd. Before her was the Minotaur that had beaten her into submission, evidenced by the arrow still embedded in his eye. Behind her was another of the towering mutant cows, snorting and braying to the green moon above in reverence to the Gods of Chaos. On all sides were Ungors, Gors, and Bestigors - goat freaks of every shape and size. And there she was in the center of it all, utterly defaced and ashamed.
They had stripped her of all of her belongings, tearing away her clothes and armor and shattering her blade. The only item she still had to her name was her bow, which was currently being used as a makeshift yoke, with its string bound around her wrists and neck, tying them together so tightly that she could hardly breathe.
Across her body was a litany of bruises, cuts, abrasions, dirt, spit, blood, warpaint made of Cadai-know-what, and, as the Gors about her showed their thanks for the exhibition, cum. The markings they had drawn across her fair skin were little more than mindless scribbles to her perception, but their cum was something even more foul and horrifying. Wherever the sizzling Chaos-infused essence touched, she felt her skin tingle and burn. The horde of bestial freaks arced ropes through the air, landing across her petite breasts, her slender legs, her flat tummy, and even onto her face.
It was such a disgusting ordeal that Kerillian had to bite back her bile, lest she show weakness before these monsters. If only they stood close enough to her, she would have gladly vomited into their smug faces, but she had no such luck. Hands bound, body disgraced, and pussy rubbed raw by a thick, coarse length of rope, she found herself entirely at the mercy of the Beastmen; a fate worse than death for any Asrai!
The Minotaurs flanking her body clutched the rope running between her legs tightly. When her pace slowed, the one in front gave it a harsh pull, causing it to slide between her sensitive, virgin folds and drawing a pained squeal from her lips. When she recoiled from the filth being flung at her from all sides, the one behind her would pull the rope high into the air, lifting her off of her feet and causing pained tears to roll down her cheeks.
As she was paraded down the trenches of their disgusting little hive of sin and depravity, Kerillian prayed to whatever gods could hear her for death. At first she prayed for vengeance, then for her end to at least come quickly, but now? Now she just wanted it to end, no matter the fashion.
She had hoped that they were leading her to some crude altar so they could tear her heart out and be done with it. As a Sister of Thorn, she knew where her soul was bound to go upon her death, no matter what craven ritual they performed over her. If only she were so lucky.
The Gors surrounding them sought to reach out and touch Kerillian, groping and clawing at her body, only for the Minotaurs leading her to swat them away with their usual brutality. She was not theirs to despoil; she belonged only to their leader, by right of conquest.
At the center of the Beastmen camp stood not a stone altar nor a ritual circle, but a great pile of bones stacked some twenty feet high. Halfway up the pile sat a Minotaur not unlike the two that had led Kerillian this far into enemy territory, but he was no ordinary Beastman. He was the Doombull known as Kralkurghar Elfbane, whose interests were made apparent by his namesake.
As the naked Asrai woman was marched before him, Kralkurghar’s broad snout twisted into a smile. He rose from his throne of bones and approached the small maiden, whose Minotaur escort stepped aside for their master. As he gazed down upon the puny, pencil-thin woman who had felled so many of his warriors, he couldn’t help but smile even wider. Especially as the elf stared not at his face, but at his crotch.
It was horrible! Kerillian stared in boggle eyed terror at the girthy, veiny monster before her eyes. The Doombull’s massive stature put it nearly at eye level with her, and as it slowly roused from dormancy it began to press its greasy, musky flesh against her stomach and up her chest. When it finally reached full mast, twelve inches of fat humanoid cock laid against her chest, with its engorged tip aimed straight at her lips, drooling eager precum down her body.
It was surprisingly human in shape, if not in size. Its foreskin hugged its deep red head tightly, and the veins along its shaft pulsed with life. Down below, a massive scrotum hung down from the Doombull’s crotch like a pendulum, and as its cock throbbed with excitement, so too did that sack clench up against its body.
But as such vivid and terrible nightmares plagued her mind, Kralkurghar gave Kerillian a firm wake up call as he grabbed the yoke that was her bow and hoisted her into the air, strangling her and cutting off circulation to her hands with how tightly the string cut into her flesh. He held her up before the crowd of Gors, who cheered and brayed madly, but the worst had not yet come to pass. Even as she was painted with their bestial markings and splattered with their jizz, the worst had yet to come. As the herd’s shaman approached from the side and handed his master a flaming brand, though, the worst had come upon Kerillian.
She howled to the heavens in agony and desperation, but not even the pale light of Mannsleib would shine upon her. Only the crooked green moon hung overhead, bathing her in the light of warpstone as the Chaos-blessed branding iron seared her flesh. As Kralkurghar pulled the iron rod away, he spat upon the sizzling flesh over Kerillian’s womb as a gesture of kindness most unbecoming of his kind. With the eight-pointed star of Chaos permanently burned into her skin, Kerillian went limp in the Doombull’s grasp, eager to submit to the cold hands of death.
But he wasn’t done with her yet.
Kerillian was dropped to her knees and given only a moment to brace herself before a mighty pillar of flesh was slapped down onto her upturned face. She gasped, still weak from the scalding of her flesh, only to breathe in a thick cloud of musk that had her gasping and wheezing as it polluted her lungs.
“N-NO! GET AWAY!” she roared, but as she tried to pull herself free, Kralkurghar simply reeled her back in.
With just over a foot of humanoid cock pressing against her skull, smearing its sweat and slime into her skin and overwhelming her senses with its foulness, Kerillian was at a loss for what to do. Every fiber of her being wanted to fight back, but what would it accomplish? She had been defeated, humiliated, and branded with the mark of Chaos; she was a failure, unfit to even call herself Asrai. And with the burden of her defeat weighing down on her mind, her body was easily broken.
Kralkurghar grabbed a fistful of ashen blonde hair and lifted Kerillian into the air. She struggled and kicked on reflex, but there was nothing she could do to stop him from pressing her down against his shaft. The sheer size of his gargantuan Minotaur cock made Kerillian’s body seize up in terror, as just feeling that swollen head against her lips was enough to tell her how badly it would break her. It told her, but did nothing to brace her.
A breathless cry was all Kerillian could offer as her dignity was stolen from her in one swift, deep thrust. Seven inches of thick, veiny Beastman cock robbed her of her virginity without a moment’s relief, using the blood of her freshly torn hymen to lubricate her rape.
“YOU BASTARD!” she cried, halfway between screaming rage and bitter sobs. “I’ll.. K-KILL YOU! Kill you… AAAAAALL!”
The herd laughed and cheered at the sights and sounds of Kerillian’s debasement. Kralkurghar lifted her up and slammed her back down several times a second, panting right in her ears as he used her like a cheap whore. Every breath she took had to be reined in from turning into a pitiful squeal or whimper, but even the few rebellious outbursts she could manage did little but encourage the beast into penetrating her deeper and faster.
For all his might and girth, Kralkurghar wasn’t going to last long; not with a tight elven slut wrapped around his cock! Every thrust was like skewering a pig, and he nearly prolapsed her pussy every time he pulled back out. She was so hot, wet, and tight that it was no wonder he was already panting and bellowing like the excited animal he was!
As for Kerillian herself, every time she thought she had found the bottom of the barrel, a trap door would open and sink her even deeper into despair. It was bad enough to be captured by the enemy, worse yet to be branded with their mark, and even more terrible to be raped by a mutant cow! And just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse, she felt the Doombull’s cock swell inside of her and felt his frantic breath pouring over her face. At least the depravity and debasement would finally be over…
That pitiful scrap of hope was the only thing keeping Kerillian’s wits together as Kralkurghar flooded her body with his seed. The roiling heat pervaded her body, lance after lance of steaming hot, stinking sludge filling her poor, fertile womb to capacity. She shuddered at the thought of being impregnated by such a monster, and that shudder only caused her body to clamp down tighter around his girth. She squealed with barely restrained delight, the shame of such an outburst the only thing keeping her from joining her captor in orgasm.
As the Doombull’s output waned, he didn’t even wait until he was finished to tear Kerillian from his cock and cast her down to the ground, letting the last few ropes splatter over her body. When that hot jizz touched her still burning brand, it overwhelmed her mind and body with such delightful agony that Slaanesh himself gazed down favorably upon her.
As his newest elf plaything reeled in pain and pleasure, Kralkurghar turned to his cohort of Minotaurs and snorted. Now that he had taken first crack at her, it was their turn to have their way with the latest capture. They wasted no time in breaking her in fully, for they knew she would hold up far better than the last few elves they had taken for breeding.
Shivering, panting, and burning up both inside and out, Kerillian was helpless to stop the Minotaurs as they closed in on her. Even at her peak performance her strength paled in comparison to theirs, but now? Defiled and abused? She could barely form a fist around the thick hands that grabbed her body.
The first one grabbed hold of her face and forced her to lean back far. In such an awkward position, the monster slapped his cock down onto her face and pressed his balls against her scalp, further inundating her with their stench. She had only a moment to brace herself before the thing drew back and thrust for her mouth, barely managing to get the head past her lips before hitting her throat.
Kerillian gagged and sputtered around that huge oral invader, even as another Beastman grabbed her legs out from under her and lifted her up until their hips met several feet off the ground. The better angle allowed the Minotaur raping her face to get just a few more inches past her lips, with his spongy head prodding the upper reaches of her esophagus, but as the one between her legs prodded her tight ringpiece with a cock even thicker than Kralkurghar’s, her whole body seized up in terror. It did little to help her.
With one swift, deep thrust, Kerillian’s asshole was ruined. Nearly a foot of huge, twitching Minotaur meat left her legs weak, her asshole bleeding, and her throat gaping wide to try and scream in agony. No sound escaped her throat save for further wet slurping and gagging as the opening allowed her oral invader even deeper into her body, and now his thrusts had his heavy sack swinging into her forehead as he threatened to fully hilt himself inside of her.
It was too much. It was far, far too much for her small elven body to take. As an Asrai, she was a warrior of the forest, not some depraved whore for Chaos! And yet here she was, spitroasted between two Minotaurs she would have sooner perforated with arrows from a thousand paces than ever lay her hands upon. But they laid their hands on her, and took such joy in doing so!
She was still clueless and uninitiated in sex, so as the minutes dragged on, she had no idea what it meant that the one in her throat began to swell so suddenly. She had hoped it would grow larger and larger until it strangled her to death, though in truth it needed little more girth to do so, given the tight binding of her bowstring around her neck. But no, such a mercy would not be granted to her, for it was not she was about to be finished, but her attacker.
The Minotaur raping her face began to slow his thrusts, withdrawing and sheathing the same few inches near his base in gradual strokes as his orgasm neared. He muttered something aloud in the Beast Tongue and sank his fingers deeper into Kerillian’s body before, with a final loud snort, thrusting in as deeply as he could and unloading.
Kerillian’s gagging and choking increased in volume and desperation as that gargantuan log of meat stretched her throat even further, firing thick, cloying ropes of jizz straight down into her stomach over and over again. Her face began to turn blue and her flailing stopped as she was strangled near to death, only to be ripped back to life as the monster pulled himself free from her throat, letting the last arc of cum paint her face white.
Kerillian laid limply in the Minotaur’s grasp as it continued raping her asshole. She could barely breathe with all the cum clogging her gullet, and her strength had been robbed by the mammoth cock in her ass, so she just laid there and took it like a good little Beastman breeding slave. Painted, splattered, and branded, she no longer appeared to be the warrior she once proclaimed herself as, and that’s because she wasn’t. She was a Beastman slave now, receiving a crash course in the life now expected of her.
Like a shot of adrenaline rousing her from her delirium, the feeling of boiling hot Beastman cum flooding her guts had Kerillian coughing and gasping for breath, leaving a great glob of Minotaur jizz to fly from her abused gullet. She groaned like an abused cow, low and slow, as her body was filled with that dark, unholy warmth. The aches and pains of her anal abuse washed away, replaced with an unnatural, unwelcome tingling that left her wanting… more…
Still skewered on the beast’s cock, Kerillian was given a few seconds to collect herself and admire the feeling of Chaos invading her. Once those seconds had passed, she screamed in agony as she was spun around to face away from the beast, her intestines twisting like a knot around that towering invader. But now that she was facing the other way, she could see her next abuser marching up to her.
Without so much as a ‘hello’ or even some abuse, the latest in a long line of impatient Minotaurs simply aimed his powerful erection for her still gaping and spasming pussy and rammed himself in, damn the consequences.
The Gors surrounding her cheered and lauded the Minotaurs as they broke the hated elven scum, but it was all just so much white noise to Kerillian. Her ears rang and her senses misfired from all the abuse, leaving the crushing grips to feel like gentle hugs and the reeking stench of their musky bodies was like a gentle spring breeze. Their huge, swollen cocks rammed deeply into her body, bringing not pain but mind-boggling pleasure that left her toes curling and voice singing sweet, unintelligible praises. The Minotaurs didn’t care what the meaning of her noises were, they just liked hearing her scream.
As two more vast loads perforated her body, Kerillian’s voice had finally given out. Getting doubly creampied was enough to drive any woman to the edge, but by two colossal Minotaur cocks? There wasn’t a thought left in her pretty little head. She didn’t even dream of death anymore, just for the pleasure to continue. And as her twin assailants dropped her limp, broken form to the forest floor, the shaman would grant her wish.
The hunched back, gnarled old Beastman hobbled through the cadre of Minotaurs surrounding Kerillian. The hulking brutes didn’t have the patience to restrain themselves from their newest rapemeat, but they had learned their lesson in quarreling with the powerful magician. Given that he wore a pendant made from the shrunken, twisted corpse of one of their fellows - the last Minotaur to trifle with him - they would allow him to have his way with their prize.
Luckily for them and for Kerillian, the shaman did not want to rape her. He hobbled nearer to her body and used his walking stick to roll her onto her back so he could survey the markings left on her by the Gors he sent to capture her. Seeing that all the jizz, mud, and blood hadn’t worn them away, he let out a billy goat’s cackle as he began waving his hands in the air, summoning foul Chaos magics into her body. But not just any Chaos magics, but those of the Prince of Pleasure himself. Slaanesh had big plans for the world - bigger than Kerillian could ever hope to be a part of - but he could spare a moment’s consideration for the despoilment and enslavement of an elf. After all, they were his favorite playthings…
The crude warpaint drawn on Kerillian’s body surged a bright pink as it burned into her flesh like the brand laid over her womb. She wanted to scream but it came out more as a high pitched whine as both immense, burning pain and an exciting tingle blended in her mind, leaving her drooling and shuddering as the shaman finished his work. The soft spirals and sharp edges of the Beastman markings would never leave her, just as the eight-pointed star of Chaos would never be removed from her skin.
There was no place for her among the decent folk of Order anymore, only the rank and file of Chaos. They would happily accept her, provided she helped to swell their numbers. The feeling of a festering within her womb, like worms crawling through her ovaries, told her that she had no say in the matter; she would birth enough Minotaurs to trample Athel Loren into mulch, and beg for more all the while.
The shaman hobbled away, cackling to himself as the Minotaurs once more closed in around Kerillian. Enthused with the magic of Slaanesh, her mind would shatter as easily as her body, and just a single whiff of their musk had her panting and drooling from both pairs of lips.
“N-no… get away… p-please!” she pleaded, her fear and revulsion betrayed by her body’s eagerness. As one of the Minotaurs stepped up to her and aimed his cock like a spear towards her face, she couldn’t help herself but to breathe deeply of its scent and lay her hand upon its shaft. “Get… away… you vile… fiend…” she panted, even as she stroked the fat cock threatening to rape her.
She didn’t want it, she didn’t want it, she didn’t want it! That mantra was repeated over and over in her mind as she was lifted off the ground by her ankles, dangled upside down before a trio of gargantuan penises. She said it again as her hands reached out to stroke two of the three, and her lips laid a gentle kiss on the tip of the third. She said it again as she let her mouth hang open, inviting the Beastman in. As the taste of his flesh and effluence hit her tongue, she forgot what she was saying with a pitiful, enthused moan.
The Minotaur holding her up thrust deeply into Kerillian’s mouth, her throat gaping wide to allow him entry. The Prince of Pleasure saw fit to grant the Asrai slave the means to better please her masters, so that they could offer more depravity to him in thanks. And what depravity it was! The sounds of her throat clinging tightly to his shaft as it stretched her wide around itself - the wet slurping, the loud groaning, and her incessant gagging - created a symphony of Chaos quite pleasing to Slaanesh’s ear. In thanks for such a gift, the Perfect Prince gave the Minotaurs greater stamina with which to defile her and keep the song going.
The moment the first Minotaur came, he was being shouldered away by his fellows, eager to take his place. He hadn’t even finished before he was forced aside, leaving him to spread the majority of his seed across Kerillian’s face, neck, and chest as she was forced to suck the next cock in line. And when that one also reached climax, the same thing happened again, with him firing his load up onto her stomach and crotch as she was claimed by another.
This cycle would not continue forever though, as the Minotaurs, lackwitted and eager as they were, couldn’t care less if their Doombull leader had already claimed her. They all wanted a shot at her cunt, dreaming of siring the next generation of mighty warriors inside of her eager, fertile womb. And so as the third Minotaur came in Kerillian’s throat, pinning her down against his body with his cock fully embedded in her esophagus and his balls clenching against her forehead, his brethren were already fighting over who would go next.
Kerillian gasped and retched as she was roughly torn from her impalement, the Minotaur’s fat cock nearly prolapsing her throat as it was ripped out. She had a single second to breathe before she was impaled on another’s shaft. The once proud warrior squealed like a common whore as she was speared by fat, juicy Minotaur cock, its hooded head pressing against her cervix like a battering ram. But these gates needn’t be forced to open; they would eagerly invite the invaders in.
Held out before the Minotaur, Kerillian had a moment to stare up at him with wild, bloodshot eyes. As the surrounding herd of Beastmen snorted and brayed impatiently, she tipped her head back to invite another into her mouth, only for her to be folded up against the one plumbing her pussy. That Minotaur snorted angrily but quickly forgave the disturbance as his fellow rammed himself deep into Kerillian’s ass, causing her body to tighten up around them and squeal like a skewered Skaven.
She was ashamed. She was humiliated. She was disgusted. She was so very, very horny, and these foul monsters were doing such a good job of pleasing her. Her legs tightened around the hulk raping her cunt, and she leaned back against the brute pounding her asshole, moaning and panting like a Bordeleaux whore.
It was awful. It was amazing. It was everything she had fought to prevent, and everything she had ever wanted. The wretched host of Chaos was not only corrupting her body but her mind as well, and she hadn’t the strength to fit anymore. No, she did not fight back. She screamed to the heavens and begged for more. Kerillian had failed, and the Ubersreik Five would never be the same.
Several months had passed since Kerillian’s disappearance and there was still no sign of her. Lohner had tried to caution the remaining four warriors into expecting the worst but not even bitter old Saltzpyre would “allow that foolish elf a chance to slip the yoke of Imperial authority”. But the only yoke Kerillian accepted now was one of bestial craft.
Deep in the Drakwald forest, over a hundred miles from where she was abducted in Reikland, Kerillian languished in a cage made of thick Drakwald oak. Her eyes were smothered by a blindfold made of man-flesh and her limbs were hogtied by her own ruined bow, its string slack and wood chipped. It would never fire an arrow again, even if Kerillian wasn’t a broken slave of Chaos.
On the other side of the thick wooden bars stood one of Kralkurghar Elfbane’s trusted Minotaur lieutenants, feeding his cock to the blind, bound elf. She moaned as she slurped and kissed at that sweaty, musky cock. The Minotaur snorted excitedly as he stroked the half of his shaft that she couldn’t reach from within her cell, brewing up a fresh load of her favorite meal. After all, they couldn’t let their chief’s favorite breeding slave die of starvation, now could they?
Kerillian had to lay on her side in order to not crush her swelling baby bump, appearing in her third trimester despite being not even halfway into her pregnancy. Minotaurs were the mightiest and most terrifying of all the Beastmen and needed time to grow in their rape-mother’s wombs, lest they be stunted and disappointing like the Ungors.
No, her child would grow up big and strong. He would march upon Athel Loren and enslave all of the Asrai, feasting on the men and raping the women. He would wear his father’s skull as a trophy about his neck, he would command Kralkurghar’s legions, and he would usher in the age of beasts.
And such ruination, such destruction, such defilement of all the things she loved in life, would stem from Kerillian’s womb, offered in reverence to her masters, both material and immaterial. Even though the Gods of Chaos did not hear her or pay her any mind, she still prayed to them.
She prayed to Slaanesh for the pleasure to continue and for the pain to be warded off; such prayers ensured her pain would only increase.
She prayed to Tzeentch that her abusers would not have any new tricks to pull on her; he responded by giving the Beastmen many new, cruel ideas on how to torture her.
She prayed to Nurgle that her health would hold out as the terrible monster growing inside of her leeched her strength; Nurgle made sure that every last bit of her life force was offered to her spawn, keeping her on the cusp of death.
And she prayed to Khorne, to one day have the strength to free herself from bondage and pursue the Ruinous Powers fully; but he had no pity for a sneaky, bow-wielding elf, and so her blood would flow endlessly from the wounds her masters left on her, ensuring that her body would never regain its lost strength.
As the Minotaur outside of her cage roared in orgasm, Kerillian could only hold her mouth open and try to catch as much as she could in her mouth. The beast fired long, thick ropes all over her body, splattering across her face, her swelling breasts, her gravid belly, and her aching, needy pussy. It had been weeks since they had raped her and her body grew more and more desperate, with Slaanesh’s curse reaping a heavy toll on her mental and physical strength for such indolence. And yet, as she lapped up the disgusting, wretched effluence left on her lips, she could only moan and purr like a domesticated animal hungry for more.
The Minotaur left her there to fester, but he would be back. The brutes could hardly stand to leave her alone for a day, let alone a week, but their master, Kralkurghar, couldn’t have his warriors wasting their strength on an elf already broken. They marched towards the Laurelon forest, to capture more Asrai fit for breeding. Kerillian needed some company in her cell, and Kralkurghar was nothing if not an accommodating slave keeper!
Kerillian never returned to Ubersreik, nor to Athel Loren. She never again wielded her bow against the forces of Chaos alongside her companions. But in time, the Ubersreik Four would come to do battle against a new breed of even more powerful Minotaur warriors born of their old friend’s womb. It was her place in life, as a slave of Chaos. And all this because she made the foolish decision to stand in defence of those worthless lumberfoots and that stupid Dwarf…