Page 9 of Warlord’s Prize

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.

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