Page 13 of Warlord’s Prize

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."

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