MOTDE: End the day of victory B1
From Create Your Own Story
The next day, around noon. Drow´s are a ceremonial people, there is a certain way of doing things, things that must be done to solidify the honor and dignity of the Drow race. It is now the day after the city has been taken, so a victory ceremony must occur, an announcement of the city's subjugation.
The throne room is packed. The defeated female elite have been gathered. Druids, priestess, generals, and other wealthy and influential females from the Heartwood forest capital have all been hoarded into the spacious throne room like cattle. Every single surface-elf present is stark naked and kneeling with their hands tied behind their back. Only a large, black collar-with-a-leash decorates their nimble, elven bodies, wrapping themselves tightly around their throats.
Their chain leashes are connected to their owners, running from their necks to their enslavers black hands. Each dark elf, all from different clans, holds five chains in one hand, and a horse whip in the other.
You emerge from a side-entrance, striding towards the wooden throne in your usual huntress uniform and parking your firm ass on the seat of power. With a haughty and leering expression you cross your leather-clad legs to make yourself comfortable. Now having identified yourself as the commander, their eyes draw to you. Low murmurs and tearful sobs can be heard from the crowd.
You shout, "Silence!" with a stern, authoritarian voice that your curvy and salaciously voluptuous body seem to not posses. The room instantly falls dead-quiet.
Your vision glides over the crowd, checking out the exposed tits and snatches of the captives. Even the proudest and most resilient surface-elves avert their gaze as your eyes fall on their naked body. Taking your time with the procedure, you let them wait and grow anxious over your cold, inspecting gaze. They have all been defiled by their captures, their faces are all stained with the lingering humiliation of a rape victim. And now they are on their knees, exposing their lustful, womanly assets as nothing more than trophies for their rapists and new owners. The only exceptions are a few virgins who have had the pleasure of watching their mothers and sisters be defiled while they remain chaste. Their untoutched bodies are saved for consumnation at a special time, or to be sold to a much higher price then if they where to have been penetrated.
You find some real desirable slaves among the cattle, but none as arousing as the big-titted Queen.
Satisfied with your inspection you clap your hands twice to begin the ceremony.
Out from the same side-entrance that you appeared from steps the Queen, and her arrival is meet with a collective gasp of shock and horror from the enslaved surface-elves. The beautiful Queen has been wrapped tightly in two forest-green, silky ribbons. One is running around her chest, mashing its soft texture into her massive breasts by the nipples, but not covering much else. This makes the under- and upper side of her tit-meat exposed and bulging slightly outward from the pressure. The second ribbon has been tied around her pelvis, narrowly covering her slit. The Queen is also decorated with golden jewelry that enchants her body. A tiara graces her brown hair, she also wears a pair of bracelets, as well as a necklaces of luxurious royal quality.
The Queen sways her hips enticingly from side to side as she approach the crowd of disbelieving surface-elves. Her wide hips and meaty, but well-defined buttocks makes her tantalizing walk incredibly erotic on natural talent alone, which gravely aggravates and shames her former subjects. She is the Queen, not only a regent but also a symbol of their contry. Seeing her sexualised like this at the hands of their racial enemies stings painfully at their collective pride. To the crowds further repulsion, they see that she holds a leashed black collar with the chain rolled up in her hand. It´s identical to the ones clinging like parasites to their necks.
The brown-haired regent stops before her former subjects and poses like a prostitute selling her wares. She arches her back to emphasize her bulging breasts and wiggle her hips seductively. All while pouting her red, luscious lips at them. The Queen gives a painfully-obvious fake smile to her audience. Her entire body-language looks awkward, like a poor actor trying to play a confident individual. Her face is flush red, but not only from the nerve-wrecking humiliation. You spent the last fifteen minutes before the ceremony teasingly fingering her pussy, so now her body is hot and needy, which shows clearly in her blushing face.
The cries of sadness and shame from the surface-elves is music to you and all the dark elves ears, but anyone who tries an uprising is quickly beaten to submission by the whips of their Mistresses.
Satisfied with the commotion she´s caused you yell, "come here!" and after she does so you say, "kneel."
She obeys, kneeling in submission before her ancestors throne. The throne her mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and so on ruled from is now occupied by your smug ass.
It had been real easy convincing her to play along, all you had to say was that you´d hurt her daughters otherwise. You don´t own her daughters, yet, and is thus unable to hurt them anyhow, but she does not need to know that. Still her emerald eyes are a whirlwind of despair and sadness. Despite that she does not break character, as planned she holds forth the collar and chain in her hands, offering them to you in the utmost of submissive gestures.
"Please Mistress Daine of Char, collar this surface-Queen bitch and use her for you amusement."
The crowd erupts in saddening wails. You close your eyes, and savor the warm, prideful sensation.
