Page 5

CHAPTER 5

PUBLIC SURRENDER

The central courtyard stretches before me, and I realize with growing horror that what I'm seeing is no ordinary gathering space. This is a ritual combat arena, now prepared for a claiming ceremony rather than battle—though the purpose seems equally violent. My steps falter as I take in the scene.

Oni officials and warriors form a tight circle around a massive platform covered with furs and painted with ritual symbols I don’t recognize. Their enormous bodies create an impenetrable wall of crimson and black flesh that permits no escape. The setting sun casts blood-red light across everything, making the scene look like something from a nightmare. Shadows lengthen as attendants light torches around the platform's perimeter, the flames dancing in the evening breeze. The crowd watches me with undisguised hunger.

"The ceremony follows ancient tradition," Kazuul explains beside me, his deep voice casual as though discussing weather rather than my impending violation. "Dating back to before the Conquest, when an alpha claims a worthy omega."

I can barely focus on his words. My body burns from the inside out, heat radiating through my core and making my skin hypersensitive. Every brush of fabric against my flesh feels like sandpaper, an agonizing torment, yet the alternative—removing it—seems unthinkable.

"The claiming must be witnessed," he continues with disturbing precision. "The bite mark will come later, after we confirm pregnancy takes. For now, the physical claiming establishes my ownership according to oni custom."

Ownership. The word lands like a physical blow. Five years fighting against this very fate, only to walk directly into it.

Female attendants approach—human omegas, I realize with a jolt, their own claiming marks starkly visible on their necks. Their expressions are carefully neutral, eyes glazing over me with practiced indifference as they bow to Kazuul, then turn expectant gazes toward me.

"They will prepare you for the ceremony," Kazuul states, nodding toward a small pavilion at the edge of the arena.

"Prepare me?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears, higher than normal, thin.

One of the omegas answers, her eyes never meeting mine. "Ceremonial oils, Warlord's prize."

The title makes my stomach clench. I'm already someone's possession in their eyes.

It's only when they lead me to the pavilion and begin removing my outer garments that full understanding crashes over me. I'm expected to be completely bare for the claiming. Exposed before dozens of witnesses.

"No," I manage, trying to step back, a pathetic attempt at defiance. "This isn't?—"

"It will be easier if you don't resist," the older omega whispers, her eyes finally meeting mine with something like sympathy, a flicker of shared, bleak understanding. Her gaze flicks meaningfully to where Kazuul waits, then back to me. "The oils help with the... accommodation. Nothing can prepare you completely, but this will help."

My resistance crumbles against the overwhelming force of the situation. My community depends on my compliance. Five hundred lives hanging in the balance. I close my eyes and surrender to the preparation, forcing my mind to retreat from what's happening to my body.

The omegas work efficiently, removing my clothing piece by piece. With each garment stripped away, I feel more vulnerable, more exposed. They apply scented oils to my skin, and the oil has a strange warming quality that makes my flesh tingle wherever it's applied, heightening sensitivity until even the air against my skin feels like an invasive caress.

To my shame and horror, my body responds with humiliating enthusiasm—heat building to near-unbearable levels, slick flowing freely between my thighs without any direct stimulation. An emptiness forms in my core, a desperate yearning to be filled that I've never experienced with such intensity. The suppressants haven't just failed; they've collapsed completely, years of chemical damming suddenly broken and releasing a flood of biological imperative.

By the time the attendants finish their work, I'm naked and trembling, my skin flushed and sensitive, my mind clouded with a haze of unwanted arousal. They lead me back to the main arena.

The moment I step from the pavilion, a hush falls over the gathered oni. Dozens of golden eyes track my naked form as I walk unsteadily toward the platform. The weight of their collective gaze is like a physical touch on my exposed flesh—my bare breasts, my thighs, the dark curls between them, the most intimate parts of me now on display. I've never felt so utterly vulnerable, so completely stripped of dignity and protection. Some oni growl with appreciation. Others make guttural comments in their harsh language that need no translation. I keep my eyes fixed on the platform ahead, fighting the urge to cover myself with my hands. Such gestures would be futile and seen as resistance.

Kazuul waits there, and the sight of him sends a fresh wave of heat through my body. His massive form is now bare of armor, ceremonial markings painted across his crimson skin in patterns that seem to move in the torchlight. His towering height—at least nine feet tall—makes me feel like a child in comparison. Every inch of him ripples with muscle, his shoulders broader than two men standing side by side, his arms thicker than my thighs. The black tribal markings covering his crimson skin somehow accentuate his musculature, making him appear even more formidable.

But what captures my attention—what I can't look away from despite my terror—is the full extent of oni male anatomy now on display.

His cock stands semi-erect, proportional to his enormous size, already thicker than my wrist and still growing as he watches my approach, pulsing with a life of its own. The length of it is staggering—easily reaching past his navel even before fully hard. Veins pulse along its crimson surface, and ridges line the shaft in a pattern unlike any human male. What catches my eye is the strange, nodule near the base, a pronounced ridge that seems to pulse with its own energy. A bead of clear fluid forms at the tip as his golden eyes lock onto mine.

"This will tear me apart," I whisper, genuine fear cutting through even the heat-induced need clouding my thoughts.

Kazuul's golden eyes meet mine, vertical pupils fully dilated as he scents my fear mixing with arousal. "You'll stretch," he promises, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "Omegas are made for this."

Before I can respond, his massive hands grip my shoulders, claws pricking my skin in warning. He positions me on the claiming platform with terrifying efficiency. The furs feel soft against my overheated skin, a strange comfort in this nightmare. With practiced movements, he arranges me on hands and knees.

The position itself is a declaration of my submission—my back arched, my body completely exposed to the assembled witnesses. The moment I'm forced into this posture, a chorus of appreciative growls rises from the crowd. I can feel their eyes on me, examining and evaluating every inch of my displayed flesh. Humiliation burns through me alongside the heat. Yet my body betrays me further, more slick gathering shamefully between my thighs at this position of submission. I hear murmurs of approval from the watching oni. One calls out something that makes others laugh—a crude joke at my expense.

I feel Kazuul move behind me, his massive body radiating heat that I can sense without seeing him. His hands grip my hips, each large enough to span from my waist to the top of my thigh. The touch makes me jerk involuntarily, a whimper escaping my throat. His thumbs spread me open, exposing my most intimate parts to the cool evening air and the hungry gaze of the witnesses.

"The claiming begins," he announces to the witnesses, his voice carrying across the arena.

Then I feel it—the impossible width of his cockhead pressing against my entrance. Despite the abundant slick, despite the oils, despite my body's betraying readiness, the initial penetration draws a scream of genuine pain from my lips. The stretch burns beyond anything I've experienced, my body fighting against an invasion it wasn't designed to accommodate.

"Breathe," he commands, his voice darkly satisfied despite the relentless pressure.

I try to obey, to relax muscles clenched in resistance, but it's nearly impossible. The head of his cock feels like a burning brand, stretching my entrance to its absolute limit. Just when I think I can't take any more, when I'm certain I'll split apart, something gives way and the widest part slips partially inside with a wet sound that draws approving growls from the watching oni.

"Good omega," Kazuul purrs, the praise sending an unwanted shiver down my spine.

He pushes forward relentlessly, each inch a fresh intrusion that makes me gasp and tremble. I can feel every ridge, every vein, every alien texture as he claims me, creating friction unlike anything I've experienced. Tears stream down my face as he continues his inexorable progress.

"Please," I sob, though I'm not sure if I'm begging him to stop or continue. "It's too much."

"You can take more," he growls, his massive hands tightening on my hips.

With each thrust, he works himself deeper, my body forced to accommodate his impossible size. Through tear-blurred vision, I look down in disbelief to see my abdomen visibly distended, bulging outward as his cock reshapes me from the inside. The sight is as horrifying as it is strangely, shamefully arousing, visual evidence of how completely he's claiming me.

After what feels like an eternity of stretching, burning pressure, I feel him hilted inside me, his heavy sac pressed against me. The sensation of fullness is overwhelming—I can feel him impossibly deep, pressing against organs that were never meant to be touched this way. His cock creates a visible bulge in my abdomen, a ridge that extends almost to my navel.

"No human alpha could fill you like this," Kazuul rumbles with satisfaction, his hands adjusting their grip on my hips. "Look how perfectly you've taken me."

Then something happens that transforms everything—the strange nodule at the base of his cock makes contact with my exposed clit and begins to vibrate with shocking intensity. The sensation sends a bolt of pleasure so acute, so unexpected, that I gasp, my body jerking involuntarily. The vibration isn't like anything human technology could produce—it seems to penetrate directly to nerve endings I didn't know existed, bypassing all resistance.

"Look how she takes me," Kazuul announces to the witnesses, his voice thick with satisfaction. "This is what omegas were made for."

He withdraws almost completely, the drag of his ridged cock against my sensitive walls creating a confusing mixture of pain and reluctant pleasure. Then he slams back in with a force that drives the breath from my lungs. I cry out, the sound echoing across the courtyard.

His massive hands grip my hips tighter as he establishes a brutal rhythm that shakes my entire body. Each thrust is a controlled assault—pulling back until just the head remains inside, then driving forward with enough force to jar my entire frame. The platform beneath us creaks with the power of his movements.

With each thrust, the vibrating nodule stimulates my clit with perfect precision, sending waves of unwanted pleasure radiating through my core. The pain doesn't disappear—the stretch remains almost unbearable—but now it twines with a pleasure so intense it borders on agony itself. Every ridge and vein of his massive cock drags against sensitive nerves, while the bulbous head reaches places inside me that have never been touched. Kazuul shifts his angle slightly, grinding the nodule against me with deliberate pressure that makes me sob with unwanted pleasure.

"You were made for this," he snarls, his voice deepening as his pace increases. "Made to take my seed, to carry my offspring."

My face burns with humiliation as I realize every witness can see the way my body accepts him—can see the bulge of his cock moving beneath my skin, can hear the wet sounds of slick as he pounds into me. Worse is how obviously my body responds—nipples hard despite my mental rejection, back arching instinctively to take him deeper, helpless sounds of pleasure escaping my throat, slick flowing in humiliating abundance around his invading length. The crowd watches with rapt attention, their golden eyes fixed on the spectacle of my claiming. I am completely on display, my most intimate responses observed by dozens of witnesses who grunt and growl their approval.

To my horror, I feel the first orgasm building despite my mental resistance. I try to fight it, to deny my body this final betrayal, but the vibrations make it impossible to control my response. When it crashes through me, I hear myself crying out in unmistakable pleasure before witnesses, my body convulsing around his invading length, my inner walls clenching in rhythmic pulses. The sound of my unwilling ecstasy echoes across the arena.

The crowd roars in approval, a thunderous sound that drowns out my cries. Some oni pound their fists against their chests. Others call out what can only be crude congratulations to Kazuul. I hang my head in shame, tears streaming down my face. To climax so publicly, so obviously, is the ultimate humiliation. Yet the vibrations continue, merciless in their stimulation.

"Yes," Kazuul roars, his pace becoming even more punishing as my body convulses around him. "Take your pleasure from your alpha."

The orgasm seems to go on forever, waves of unwanted ecstasy crashing through me as he continues to thrust through my clenching muscles. Just as the intensity begins to ebb, the vibrating nodule shifts, finding a new angle that sends fresh sparks of sensation racing through me, building toward another peak.

"Beg for more," he commands, slowing his thrusts to allow me to speak. The vibrating nodule maintains constant stimulation against my oversensitive clit, making coherent thought nearly impossible.

I try to resist, to maintain this last shred of dignity, but my body has surrendered completely to biological imperative. "Please," I gasp before I can stop myself, heat-drunk and lost to physical sensation. "Please don't stop."

The words emerge without conscious permission, omega biology completely overriding rational thought as another orgasm builds impossibly quickly after the first. I hear approving growls from the watching oni, their excitement at my submission palpable in the air. One elder oni speaks in their guttural language, gesturing toward where I'm visibly claimed. Others nod in agreement, a ritual acknowledgment.

"Mine," Kazuul snarls, the word punctuated by a particularly deep thrust that makes me cry out. "Say it."

"Yours," I whimper, unable to deny him anything as the second orgasm builds. "I'm yours."

The admission tears a triumphant roar from his chest, the sound so primal it sends birds scattering from nearby trees. His rhythm becomes erratic, more forceful, each thrust driving the breath from my lungs. The vibrations against my clit intensify to an almost painful degree.

The second orgasm hits even harder than the first, tearing a sob from my throat as pleasure crashes through me in overwhelming waves. My vision darkens at the edges, my body convulsing around his massive length. Through the haze of unwanted ecstasy, I feel his cock swell even further, stretching me beyond what I thought possible.

Just when I think I can't endure more, I feel a new pressure at my entrance. His knot begins to swell, preparing to lock us together. I try to pull away in panic, but his grip holds me immobile.

"Take it all," he growls, bearing down with his full weight now, his massive chest against my back, his breath hot against my neck. "Take my knot, little omega."

There's a moment of searing pain as the knot forces past my entrance, growing to the size of my fist, then larger. A scream tears from my throat, the sound raw and broken. The pain is blinding, absolute—then suddenly transforms as the knot locks into place, pressing against spots inside me that trigger a third consecutive orgasm so intense it momentarily whites out my vision.

I'm dimly aware of my own voice crying out, the sound primal and desperate. Through the haze of pleasure and pain, I feel Kazuul's release—burning hot and plentiful, flooding my womb with seed that seems endless. Each pulse of his cock sends another jet of burning seed deep inside me, the quantity so great it visibly distends my abdomen further, creating a rounded curve beneath where his cock already bulges.

"Look at her take my seed," Kazuul announces to the witnesses, his voice rough with satisfaction. His hand spreads possessively across my distended abdomen, showing everyone how thoroughly he's filled me.

The crowd responds with appreciative growls and gestures. Some approach the platform for a closer view, their golden eyes examining where we're joined, where the evidence of my claiming is most visible. Through tear-blurred vision, I see oni officials nodding approval around us, ritual witnesses acknowledging successful claiming with satisfied expressions. Some make gestures I don't understand—blessings or protection rites, perhaps. One approaches with a ceremonial bowl, collecting a mixture of our fluids that drips from where we're joined before retreating with the offering.

We remain locked together by biology, unable to separate until his knot subsides. The vibrating nodule continues pulsing against my overstimulated clit, forcing continued tremors of pleasure that make me whimper and shake. He keeps me presented to the crowd throughout, displaying me as thoroughly claimed, thoroughly conquered.

Part of me—the omega part I've suppressed for years—preens under the attention, takes pride in being so thoroughly claimed by such a powerful alpha. This realization fills me with fresh horror, that even in my humiliation, some primal part of me responds with satisfaction.

Kazuul's massive body covers mine completely now, his weight supported on his elbows to avoid crushing me. The heat of him is overwhelming, like being trapped beneath a living furnace. His chest rumbles against my back as he makes a sound almost like purring, satisfaction evident in every line of his massive frame.

"Mine now," he growls, voice pitched for my ears alone as he leans his massive body over mine, covering me completely. His teeth graze the junction of my neck and shoulder, not breaking skin yet but promising the permanent mark to come. "Body, mind, and service—all mine."

I have no response, no resistance left. The claiming is complete, witnessed and approved. Whatever I was before—leader, strategist, resistance fighter—has been consumed by this new reality. I've been claimed by the warlord of the Crimson Fortress, my body conquered as thoroughly as our lands were a decade ago.

As the sun disappears completely beyond the horizon, torchlight casts flickering shadows across the courtyard. Many witnesses begin to disperse, their purpose fulfilled, their guttural murmurs of satisfaction and approval a low thunder in the cooling air. But Kazuul and I remain joined, locked together in the most primal connection possible, and he shows no inclination to allow this public display to conclude.

His massive hands, which had momentarily gentled, now shift with renewed purpose. One slides from my hip to cup my distended abdomen, fingers splaying possessively across the curve his seed has created beneath my skin.

"Behold," he rumbles, his voice deep and carrying enough for the lingering officials and high-ranking warriors to hear clearly. He angles my hips slightly, a subtle but deliberate shift that offers them an even clearer view of our joined state, of his knot buried deep within me, of my naked, trembling flesh. "The Bloodcrest Warlord claims his prize. See how she takes me, how she holds my seed. This is the future of our strength."

Every small movement he makes sends aftershocks of unwanted pleasure through me, the vibrating nodule at the base of his cock continuing its relentless, merciless stimulation against my over-sensitized clit even as the knot keeps us sealed together. His seed remains trapped inside me, hot and heavy, a constant, undeniable presence fulfilling the biological purpose of the knotting—ensuring breeding success by keeping his seed contained exactly where it needs to be to take root. But there is more than biology at play here; there is ownership, a brutal assertion of dominance.

He leans down, his breath hot against my ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "They see you, little omega," he growls, a dark satisfaction lacing his tone. "They see you broken, filled, and mine. Every warrior here knows the scent of a well-claimed omega. Yours will perfume this fortress for days."

His other hand traces the line of my spine, down to the swell of my buttocks, his touch both a caress and a brand. He then deliberately, slowly, grinds his hips, not with the force of his earlier thrusts, but with a knowing pressure that shifts the knot within me, sending fresh waves of confused, agonizingly pleasurable sensation through my exhausted body. I whimper, unable to stop the sound, my body arching minutely against his.

The remaining Oni watch with a mixture of predatory interest and ritualistic solemnity. Their golden eyes are fixed on my exposed form, on the undeniable evidence of Kazuul’s conquest. I am a symbol now, naked and sprawled on the claiming platform, still impaled by their Warlord, my body slick with sweat and fluids, his cum a heavy, warm weight within me. I can feel their gazes like brands on my skin, cataloging every tremor, every helpless sound I make as Kazuul continues his subtle torments that are also, horrifyingly, pleasures. A wave of fresh humiliation washes over me, so potent it’s almost a physical blow. This isn't just claiming; this is a public declaration of my complete subjugation, my transformation into a breeding vessel, a trophy.

He shifts again, his massive body a furnace against my back, and the vibrating nodule finds a new, exquisitely sensitive spot. A choked sob escapes me as another wave of sensation, too intense to be pure pleasure, too overwhelming to be pure pain, courses through me. My inner muscles clench around his knot in a series of involuntary spasms, a final, humiliating betrayal by my own flesh.

"She still takes her pleasure," Kazuul announces to the onlookers, his voice laced with dark amusement and pride. "A fertile omega, eager for her Alpha." The lie is as blatant as my body's truth.

A horrifying thought, insidious and alien, flickers through the haze of my exhaustion and shame: a tiny, shameful spark of omega pride at being so thoroughly, publicly possessed by such an undeniably powerful Alpha. The thought is so vile, so contrary to everything I am, that I almost choke on it, fresh tears of self-loathing joining the others on my cheeks.

My last coherent thought before exhaustion finally claims me, dragging me under the weight of Kazuul’s body still knotted within mine, is of Haven Valley—my people will eat this winter. Five hundred lives secured through my sacrifice. I cling to this knowledge as darkness rises to claim me, the sole, bitter victory in my complete and utter surrender.