Page 6

CHAPTER 6

THE WARLORD'S PRIZE

I wake disoriented, my body aching in unfamiliar ways. Sunlight streams through high windows, painting gold across a chamber larger than my entire living quarters back in Haven Valley. For a moment, I can't remember where I am—then everything crashes back with brutal clarity.

The claiming ceremony. The witnesses. The public surrender of everything I once was.

I try to sit up and wince at the soreness radiating from between my thighs. My body feels different somehow, as though rearranged from the inside out. The sheets beneath me are silk, far finer than anything I've slept on since before the Conquest. The bed itself could easily fit six humans, its size clearly designed for an oni's massive frame.

When I finally manage to stand, I notice something else—my scent has changed. The chemical edge of suppressants has vanished completely, replaced by something richer, more distinctly omega. But layered through it is a new element—Kazuul's alpha musk, clinging to my skin despite the bath servants gave me after the ceremony. I'm marked by his scent, claimed on a level deeper than the physical.

Looking down at my naked body, I see evidence of last night's claiming—finger-shaped bruises on my hips, a raw patch where his teeth grazed my neck, and a lingering fullness in my lower abdomen. My muscles protest as I make my way to a large basin of water, trying to wash away what can't be removed.

I've barely finished when the chamber door swings open. Kazuul enters without knocking, his massive frame filling the doorway. He's dressed in what must be casual attire for oni—a simple wrap around his lower body, his chest bare except for ceremonial markings and the natural scaling that runs across his shoulders and spine. The scales catch the morning light, obsidian black against his crimson skin, trailing down his back like armor.

My treacherous body responds immediately to his presence, a rush of warmth spreading through my core, slick beginning to gather between my thighs despite my soreness.

"You're awake," he observes, golden eyes tracking my instinctive step backward. "Good. Your heat continues, though less intensely now that initial claiming is complete."

I wrap my arms around myself, acutely aware of my nakedness. "Where are my clothes?"

"You'll wear what I provide," he states simply, gesturing to a chest near the bed. "Your previous garments have been disposed of. They carried chemical scents that interfere with our bonding."

The casual dismissal of my possessions—my identity—sparks anger that momentarily overrides fear. "You had no right?—"

"I have every right," he interrupts, his voice still calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "You are mine now, little omega. Your body, your presentation, your purpose—all belong to me."

He crosses the room in three long strides, moving with a predator's grace that belies his enormous size. When he reaches me, one massive hand cups my face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. His palm feels scorching against my skin, his natural temperature far hotter than any human's.

"The sooner you accept this reality, the easier your adjustment will be."

Before I can respond, his mouth claims mine in a kiss that's surprisingly gentle compared to last night's brutality. His lips are hotter than a human's, his taste exotic and alien—smoke and spice and something metallic. Despite my determination to resist, my body responds—lips parting, breath quickening, that damnable slick gathering again between my thighs.

"Your body already understands," he murmurs against my mouth. "Your mind will follow."

What happens next establishes the pattern for days to come. Kazuul lifts me as though I weigh nothing, carrying me back to the bed. His wrap falls away, revealing his massive cock already hardening, the strange nodule at its base beginning to pulse visibly as it responds to my heat scent.

"No," I manage, though the protest sounds weak even to my own ears. "I'm still sore from?—"

"You'll adjust," he promises, positioning me on my back, his enormous body looming over mine. "Each claiming makes your body more receptive."

The bed dips dramatically beneath his weight as he braces himself above me, his body radiating heat like a forge. His size is overwhelming—shoulders broad enough to block out the light from the windows, arms thicker than my thighs holding his upper body above me. The black tribal markings across his crimson skin seem to shift and move in the morning light, recording victories I can't read but sense in the power of his frame.

He lowers his head to my neck, inhaling deeply at my scent gland. The sensation sends an involuntary shiver through me, a primal response to alpha attention that bypasses my conscious resistance. When his tongue, hotter than any human's, traces the spot where his teeth grazed me last night, my back arches without my permission.

"Already responding better," he notes with satisfaction, one massive hand sliding down my body to confirm what he can already smell—the gathering slick between my thighs.

His finger probes gently, testing my readiness, and I bite my lip to hold back a whimper. I'm still tender from the previous night's claiming, but my body betrays me again, producing more slick at his touch despite the lingering soreness.

When he positions himself between my thighs, the head of his massive cock pressing against my entrance, I close my eyes, unable to watch my own surrender. The first push stretches me again, burning slightly but nowhere near the searing pain of the initial claiming. My body—traitor that it is—remembers him now, opens for him more readily.

"Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes open to meet his golden gaze. His pupils have contracted to vertical slits in the morning light, giving him an even more predatory appearance. "Watch as I claim what's mine."

He pushes forward with measured care, and I can't help but look down to where our bodies join. The sight is still shocking—his crimson cock disappearing into my body, the visible bulge it creates beneath my skin as he sinks deeper. It should be impossible to take something so large, yet my body accommodates him with each passing day.

When he's fully seated inside me, his cockhead pressing against my cervix and creating a distinct bulge in my lower abdomen, he pauses, allowing me a moment to adjust. The full sensation is overwhelming—being completely filled, stretched to my limit, reshaped from the inside to fit him specifically.

"Ready?" he asks, though it's not really a question.

Before I can respond, he begins to move, establishing a rhythm more measured than last night's claiming but no less possessive. Each thrust shifts my entire body on the silk sheets, his size and strength making resistance futile. The initial discomfort fades faster than I'd like to admit, replaced by sparks of unwanted pleasure as ridges along his shaft drag against sensitive spots inside me.

Then the nodule at the base of his cock makes contact with my clit, and everything changes. It begins to vibrate with that same impossible intensity I experienced during the claiming ceremony, sending jolts of pleasure so acute they border on pain radiating through my core.

"No," I gasp, even as my hips buck upward involuntarily. "Too much?—"

"Your body disagrees," Kazuul observes, adjusting his angle slightly to maintain perfect contact between the vibrating nodule and my most sensitive spot. "It knows what it needs."

He's right, and that knowledge burns worse than any physical discomfort. Within moments, the vibration dissolves my resistance, transforming me into a creature of pure sensation. My nails dig into his arms, leaving marks that would tear human skin but barely indent his tougher hide. My legs wrap around his waist without conscious instruction, pulling him deeper.

The first orgasm takes me by surprise, crashing through me with an intensity that tears a cry from my throat. My inner muscles clamp down around his invading length, trying to hold him deep as pleasure courses through me in unstoppable waves.

Kazuul growls with satisfaction, his pace increasing as my body convulses around him. "That's it," he rumbles, golden eyes watching my face as I come apart beneath him. "Take your pleasure from your alpha."

The possessive terminology should repulse me, but in this moment of biological surrender, it only triggers another wave of shameful heat. The vibrating nodule doesn't stop—if anything, it intensifies, sending aftershocks of pleasure through me that build impossibly toward a second peak.

"I can't," I whimper, overwhelmed by sensation. "Not again so soon?—"

"You can," he insists, his massive hand sliding beneath my hips to tilt them upward, changing the angle to drive him even deeper. "And you will."

The new position makes his cockhead press directly against a spot deep inside that sends white-hot sparks of pleasure racing through me. Combined with the relentless vibration against my clit, it's too much. The second orgasm hits harder than the first, stealing my breath and vision momentarily as my body surrenders completely to the claiming.

Only then does Kazuul allow himself release, his rhythm becoming more forceful, more primal. When his knot begins to swell, locking us together, I feel the hot rush of his seed flooding me, the quantity still shocking as it fills me completely. The sensation of being knotted, of being claimed so thoroughly, triggers a third, smaller orgasm that leaves me trembling and weak beneath him.

We remain locked together, his massive body still braced above mine to avoid crushing me with his weight. The knot will take nearly an hour to subside enough for separation, and he uses this time to reinforce his dominance in other ways—his hands mapping my body possessively, his mouth marking my neck and breasts with small claiming bites that won't scar but will leave visible evidence of ownership.

"Mine," he murmurs against my skin, the word both threat and promise.

And in this moment, with his seed locked inside me and pleasure still coursing through my veins, I can't muster the will to deny it.

* * *

The administrative meeting is already underway when Kazuul enters with me at his side. The chamber falls silent as a dozen oni officials rise in respect for their warlord, then settle back into their discussions with practiced ease. Their golden eyes flick toward me with mild interest—a new omega is noteworthy, but public claiming is common enough in oni society that it warrants only passing attention.

I'm dressed in what Kazuul selected—a silk robe in deep crimson that matches his skin, embroidered with black patterns that echo his tribal markings. The fabric is so fine it feels like water against my skin, providing the illusion of coverage while actually concealing nothing from oni senses. Their nostrils flare subtly as we enter, taking in the scent of recent claiming that must cling to me despite my attempts to wash it away.

"Any updates on the eastern border?" Kazuul asks as he takes his seat at the head of the massive stone table.

Instead of directing me to a separate chair as I'd hoped, he pats his thigh in clear command. My face burns as I understand what's expected. Not just attending the meeting—being displayed during it.

"Not today," I whisper, stepping back instead of forward. "Please, not in front of?—"

His hand snakes out with predatory speed, gripping my wrist hard enough to remind me of his strength without leaving bruises. "Come here," he says, his voice deceptively conversational while his eyes promise consequences for continued defiance.

The officials continue their discussions, barely acknowledging my resistance. This is clearly routine—alpha warlords establishing dominance over newly claimed omegas is simply business as usual in the Crimson Fortress.

I pull against his grip, a last desperate attempt at preserving some dignity. "I can sit beside you," I offer, voice low and urgent. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

Kazuul simply smiles, the expression all teeth and no warmth. With one effortless tug, he pulls me off balance, sending me tumbling forward. Before I can catch myself, I land exactly where he intended—across his lap.

"Now then," he says, turning his attention back to the meeting as though nothing unusual has occurred. "The harvest reports?"

An official with orange skin and multiple horn fragments—battle trophies, I realize—begins detailing crop yields while Kazuul's massive hand presses against my lower back, keeping me positioned exactly as he wants. I feel something shift beneath me—a growing hardness pressing against my thigh through his formal wrap.

"The southern quadrant shows a seven percent increase," the official reports, his voice steady and professional despite the display unfolding before him.

"Good," Kazuul responds, his attention apparently on the meeting while his hand slides beneath my silk robe. "Those drainage modifications are working then."

His fingers trace up my inner thigh, and I tense immediately, trying to close my legs. His other hand grips my knee, forcing my thighs apart with such casual strength that my resistance feels laughable. My heart hammers against my ribs as I realize what's about to happen—not just humiliation, but public violation disguised as normal procedure.

"I want numbers from the northern settlements by the end of the week," he continues to his administrator, even as his fingers reach the juncture of my thighs. He leans close to my ear, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "Already wet for me, little omega? Your cunt remembers who owns it, even if your mind still fights."

The crude words send an unwanted spike of heat through me, my body responding to his dominant tone despite my mental rejection. A small whimper escapes my throat as his finger circles my entrance, gathering the slick evidence of my body's betrayal.

While discussion turns to patrol schedules, Kazuul shifts me slightly, his hands moving to the tie of his formal wrap. I feel him working at the knot, and panic rises in my throat.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, though I know exactly what's coming.

"What do you think?" he murmurs against my ear, his hands never pausing.

I hear the soft rustle of fabric as his wrap falls open beneath me. Then I feel it—the hot, hard length of him freed from its confinement, pressing against the underside of my thigh. I can't help but look down, and the sight makes my breath catch. Even after days of claiming, the sheer size of him remains shocking—thick as my wrist, ridged along its length, the head flared and already glistening with precum. The nodule at the base pulses visibly, seeming to sense my proximity.

The official speaking doesn't miss a beat, though his eyes briefly flick to what's happening at the head of the table before returning to his report. The normality with which everyone treats this display makes it somehow more humiliating—this violation of my dignity isn't even remarkable enough to interrupt business.

"No," I breathe, trying to shift away from the massive cock now fully exposed beneath me. "Not here."

Kazuul's only response is to grip my hips, his massive hands spanning from my waist to the tops of my thighs. With deliberate slowness, he positions me directly above his length. I feel the hot, blunt head pressing against my entrance through the thin silk of my robe.

"Please," I whisper, a final plea as I meet his golden eyes. "Don't?—"

Without warning, he tears the delicate fabric between my legs, the sound of ripping silk barely audible over the continued meeting discussion. The air hits my exposed skin, and I feel several pairs of eyes flick in our direction before returning to their reports with professional detachment.

"The westernmost checkpoint requires additional personnel," the commander continues, his voice steady despite the tableau unfolding before him.

"Approved," Kazuul says, then leans to whisper in my ear again. "Your pretty cunt is already dripping for me. I can smell how much you want this, no matter what your mouth says."

I shake my head in denial, but my burning face and the slick now coating his cockhead tell a different story. The humiliation of being exposed, of having this massive cock poised to claim me while important territorial matters are discussed as though nothing unusual is happening, creates a confused heat that spreads through my core.

With one powerful upward thrust, he impales me on his massive length. The sudden penetration forces a gasp from my throat, the stretch still significant despite days of claiming. The officials continue their reports without pause, though I notice a few nostrils flaring as they scent my arousal and Kazuul's satisfaction.

"Sorry for the interruption," Kazuul says, his voice perfectly conversational despite the visible bulge his cock creates in my abdomen. "Please continue."

An elderly advisor with elaborate horn decorations clears his throat. "As I was saying, the supply routes from the eastern settlements have shown increased efficiency."

As the official delivers his report, Kazuul shifts his hips slightly, ensuring the nodule at the base of his cock makes perfect contact with my clit. The moment it begins to vibrate, I bite my lip to stifle a moan, the intense pleasure shooting through me without warning.

"Your greedy cunt is squeezing me so tight," Kazuul whispers against my ear, his voice low enough that only I can hear the filthy words. "You're going to come in front of all my advisors, aren't you? Going to show them exactly what you were made for."

I try to remain still, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but the vibration increases, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure radiating through my core. My breathing quickens noticeably, and I see one advisor glance up from his notes, his expression professionally neutral despite the obvious claiming happening before him.

"Haven Valley's food deliveries have begun as scheduled," reports another official. "First shipment arrived yesterday."

This information penetrates the haze of unwanted pleasure. Haven Valley. My people. The reason for my sacrifice. They're receiving the promised supplies. The knowledge offers small comfort as another wave of pleasure builds, stronger than I can fight.

"Excellent," Kazuul responds, one hand sliding around to press against my lower abdomen, feeling his own cock moving within me. Against my ear, he continues his filthy commentary. "You're going to come now, omega. Going to soak my cock with that sweet cunt while everyone pretends not to notice how well I've trained you."

The vibrations intensify, and to my utter humiliation, he's right. The orgasm crashes through me without permission, my body shuddering visibly though I manage to suppress any sound. I grip the edge of the table, knuckles white as pleasure overwhelms my resistance.

"Seems my omega approves of the Haven Valley arrangement," Kazuul says to the room, his voice casual though his meaning is clear. A few advisors nod in acknowledgment, but no one comments directly on my visible climax—such things are clearly routine in these meetings.

The session continues in this obscene fashion—territorial reports and governance decisions interspersed with my repeated, visible surrender. Kazuul maintains his public persona of the attentive warlord while whispering the filthiest things imaginable against my ear, describing in explicit detail how my body responds to him, how tight I feel around his cock, how he plans to fill me with his seed until it drips down my thighs for all to see.

Each whispered degradation sends fresh heat spiraling through me, my body responding to his words almost as much as to the physical stimulation. By the third orgasm, I've given up any pretense of composure, reduced to clinging to the edge of the table as pleasure tears through me again and again.

The officials maintain their professional demeanor throughout, though I occasionally catch a flaring of nostrils or a quickening of breath when a particularly strong orgasm makes me shudder visibly. Their matter-of-fact acceptance of this public claiming somehow makes it more degrading—my surrender isn't even noteworthy enough to disrupt business.

"I believe we've covered everything essential," Kazuul announces after my fifth climax leaves me limp and trembling in his lap. "The council is dismissed. We'll reconvene tomorrow."

The officials file out without lingering or commenting on my claimed state—this is simply how meetings end in the Crimson Fortress. As the heavy door swings shut, leaving us alone in the council chamber, I feel Kazuul's massive hands tighten on my hips.

"Now I don't have to be gentle," he growls, lifting me off his cock with alarming suddenness. Before I can react, he stands, one hand gripping the back of my neck.

"What are you—" My question cuts off as he forces me forward, bending me over the massive stone table. The polished surface is cool against my heated skin, my cheek pressed against reports and territorial maps.

"Now I can fuck you properly," he rumbles, kicking my legs apart with his foot. "The way an oni claims his omega."

His massive cock presses against my entrance again, the head hot and insistent. Despite everything that's happened—despite multiple orgasms during the meeting—I still try to pull away. My hands scrabble for purchase on the smooth stone, seeking escape from what's coming.

"Please," I gasp, though I'm not sure if I'm begging him to stop or continue. My treacherous body still responds to his presence, slick gathering between my thighs despite my mental resistance.

Kazuul's answer is to slam into me with a force that drives the breath from my lungs. The penetration is deeper in this position, his cock reaching places inside me that make stars explode behind my eyelids. I cry out, the sound echoing in the now-empty chamber.

"That's it," he snarls, pulling back only to thrust forward again with bone-jarring intensity. "Let me hear you now that we're alone."

He sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust powerful enough to slide me forward on the table until his hands grip my hips, holding me in place for his claiming. The slap of his body against mine fills the chamber, punctuated by my gasps and his deep, rumbling growls.

"This is what you were made for," he tells me, one massive hand sliding up my spine to tangle in my hair. He pulls my head back, forcing my back to arch. "Taking my cock. Bearing my seed. Being claimed whenever and however I desire."

The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, the head of his cock pressing against my cervix with each powerful thrust. The vibrating nodule still presses against my clit, its intensity increasing as his excitement grows. Despite my exhaustion, despite the soreness from the meeting, my body responds with humiliating eagerness.

"No more," I plead as another orgasm begins building impossibly. "I can't?—"

"You will," he commands, his pace becoming even more relentless. The table beneath us creaks with the force of his thrusts, maps and documents scattering to the floor. "Your body knows who owns it."

His cock somehow swells even larger, stretching me beyond what I thought possible after days of claiming. The ridges along his shaft drag against my sensitive inner walls with each withdrawal, only to push back in with overwhelming fullness. My legs tremble, my entire body at his mercy as he takes what belongs to him.

The orgasm hits without warning, tearing a scream from my throat that reverberates off the stone walls. My inner muscles clamp down around his invading length, trying to hold him deep inside as pleasure crashes through me in waves that leave me breathless and weak.

Kazuul roars in response, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own climax approaches. I feel the base of his cock beginning to swell, the knot forming that will lock us together. With one final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, the knot pushing past my entrance with a bright burst of pain-edged pleasure.

His release floods my womb in hot pulses, each one accompanied by a growl that vibrates through his massive chest. The quantity is as overwhelming as always, my abdomen visibly distending as he fills me with his seed. The knot keeps everything sealed inside, exactly as biology intended.

I collapse against the table, utterly spent, tears streaming silently down my face. Not from pain—though there is some—but from the overwhelming reality of my new existence. From the knowledge that my body has betrayed me so completely, finding pleasure in its own conquest.

Kazuul remains inside me, locked by biology in the most primal connection possible. But rather than waiting quietly for the knot to subside, he reaches for papers that were pushed aside during our coupling.

"What are you doing?" I manage to ask, voice hoarse from screaming.

"Work continues," he says matter-of-factly, spreading a fresh parchment on my back. I feel the scratch of a quill against the surface, the slight pressure as he uses my body as a writing desk. "These reports must be completed before tomorrow's council session."

The casual dismissal of what just happened—the way he simply continues his administrative duties while still knotted inside me—creates a new level of humiliation I hadn't thought possible. I'm not even worth his full attention after serving my purpose. Just a convenient surface, an object to be used in whatever way suits him at the moment.

"Haven Valley's supply allocation needs adjustment," he comments, the quill scratching steadily across the parchment on my back. "Your settlement has more children than the initial reports indicated."

The mention of my community pierces through my degradation. Even now, even like this, he's ensuring my people are cared for according to our agreement. The complexity of the situation—of my captor fulfilling his promises while using me in the most demeaning ways—is almost too much to process.

The knot remains swollen inside me, keeping us joined as he continues writing. Each small movement shifts it slightly, sending aftershocks of sensation through my oversensitive body. Occasionally he pauses to stroke a possessive hand down my spine or grip my hip, reminding me that I'm not forgotten—merely subjugated.

"Tell me about the medicinal needs of your people," he demands, still writing. "Be specific about quantities."

I answer automatically, the strategic leader in me responding even as the rest of me lies conquered on the council table. The dichotomy is jarring—my mind still working for my community's benefit while my body serves as both vessel for his seed and desk for his administration.

For nearly an hour we remain like this—his knot slowly subsiding as he completes report after report on my back. By the time he's finally able to withdraw, leaving me empty and leaking onto the stone table, I've helped formulate three supply schedules and a patrol rotation that will better protect Haven Valley's outlying fields.

"You serve multiple purposes well," Kazuul observes, gathering his completed reports as seed and slick run down my thighs. "Both your body and your mind belong to me now."

I want to deny it, to rail against this possessive declaration. But as I slowly push myself up from the table, legs trembling and body aching, I know there's truth in his words. I've been claimed completely—physically, yes, but also mentally as I've begun to adapt to this new reality, to find ways to function within it rather than simply fight against it.

When he lifts me into his arms to carry me back to his chambers, I'm too exhausted to resist. My head falls against his chest as darkness rises to claim my consciousness, the physical and emotional toll of my new reality finally overwhelming me completely.

My last coherent thought before surrendering to exhaustion is of Haven Valley—my people will survive the winter. Five hundred lives secured through my sacrifice. This knowledge sustains me as I slip into oblivion, cradled against the massive chest of the warlord who now owns me in every way that matters.