He looked much like a man, because he had chosen the guise of one. Black hair in a beautiful disarray on top of his scalp, like a crown. Symmetric skull held up on long neck, which was seated in immodest muscles placed on a long frame. A lengthy king, then, glorious in nudity. The throne of the island was his, it's arms and back dressed with dried blood of Themyscira's guards. The bodies that had been involved in that last coat of such a glorious chair were strewn across the beaches and the plains of grass, in various states of broken. They'd enjoyed themselves in the end. He had been a fair king.<br/><br/>In his lap Hippolyta worked. Beautiful woman with his cock in her mouth. She'd made a far less agreeable expression when they'd first met. She'd held her spire and a sword, sending arrows his way through orders. Now she was his friend, along with her surviving amazons. They worshipped like her, when he let them. Every now and then the woman would look up from hazily staring hypnotized at the fantastical, monstrous length she was eating, to see in his dark eyes if she could do anything else to please him. She'd found her calling in servitude after lifetimes of leading. Gratefully she swallowed around him. Behind her Donna Troy waited, and the rest who weren't working for him, too, a field of Amazons in their new, available black garb, hoping to be chosen to please and in pleasing find pleasure themselves. Some of them took the freedom of making love to the handles of their former weapons. Their beach had become their festival of ravaging comforts. But for now, the queen had right to the new spire.<br/><br/>In the beginning, when the ruling forces were made in the nothing of the pre-world, the glow from two such forces met, and in the intersection there was a new color of light. It took part in creation, and wandered around without directive as void became time. It gathered concepts here and there, and observed a place that it was of, but never really in. As many other forces, it came to recognize the naked monkeys as entertaining, and wanted to vibrate at the same frequency as them in their youth. On one or two occasions it stopped great calamites so that the bare animals could continue weaving their absurd stories.<br/><br/>Through silver and gold ages it had watched, assembling its heart from so many happenings. The son of the sun was born far away and traveled here, and then myriad more things happened. The not-thing observed other places and universes and marveled at the sanctimony of the stronger monkeys. It was gloriously flawed, the way they built Good, and claimed it for themselves. This was not how existence had been created. Soon, it decided to partake, and drank up the language and the idiosyncrasies of a man - the most contradictory of all the genders - and searched for a place with enough hypocrisy to usher it into flesh.<br/><br/>Out of all the places in all the pages of the world it was in a bonfire of Themyscira that it found seating, when the supposed vanguard simply reveled at the very epicenter of hubris. It was a comfortable birth, and the first to come at him as a threat was  obliterated by his flesh in hers. They named him Elsion for some reason, while they battered him with forged minerals, and they called the name still when he was fucking them mind and soulless. He thought it was so good to show them their true nature that he didn't expand from the island right away, drinking their lust and multiplying his power for every warrior that came close, sucking their skill and refining it in his endless vat of ancient energies. God power was funneled in to Jackal intentions.<br/><br/>He lifted Hippolyta by the black curls of her hair, and she moaned, unbecoming, dangling for his pleasure, mouth swollen and throat slathered with spittle and precum. A sigh went through the former soldiers, now courtesans when she was forcefully set down on the rigid meat, bulging her stomach since her sloshing quim was readily exposed in their new bondage. She thanked him and rolled her eyes in reverence as she started bouncing, spending her athleticism on the beach where her sisters and ward laid dead, while others wet the sand with their subservience.<br/><br/>"Whore." he tried again, relishing in the barbaric language of tongues. "Mother whore." he continued and Hippolyta nodded with an embarrassed but accepting whine. The waves moved up the surf to lend some quaint to the debauched scene, and the ocean air celebrated with the smell of the cooling bodies, and the willing perfume of every cunt, craving its turn. "I should meet the other ones too. This is what you're good for after all, monkeys. I never realized it. This is your foremost use." he chuckeld to himself as the mother of the amazons masturbated him with herself.