His quip about the taste of his seed had only been met with a dull glare, but she had acquiesced all the same. Aryel tried her best to dissociate from the moment as she worked, but it was a difficult thing to block out. His quiet sighs and moans weren't helping. Had this been more consensual on her part, she might have taken some enjoyment from her apparent skill, but at the moment all his reactions did was twist the knife even deeper. She forced herself to continue, taking him into the warm wetness of her mouth in slow repetition, gradually increasing her tempo slightly when she felt she could do so without gagging. That resolve was tested when he added his own saliva to the mix, and she paused long enough to glance up at him with a look of scorn. The indirect kiss was accepted, however, as she resumed her task, expression becoming a brief grimace. There wasn't much taste there to be had, but it was the idea of simply taking such mistreatment that turned her stomach. Once or twice, she considered clamping down with deadly intent--if they were all going to die today, the least she could do was castrate the son of a bitch to ensure his lineage never continued--but the fight was gone from her for the time being. True to form, Aryel's anger was like a forest fire. It would blaze brightly, consuming everything in its path, until it exhausted itself down to embers. Even the simple movement of shifting back and forth as she sucked him off sent twinges of pain into her abdomen, she was in no condition to throw a punch.<br/><br/>Worse than the physical pain, however, was the psychological agony of knowing they had an audience.<i>His</i>followers were clearly enjoying the spectacle, while hers appeared both dismayed and aroused--a gut-wrenching combination. She saw Rysalt raise a hand out of the corner of her eye, and glanced over to see that several of her men were already touching themselves. A quiet sound of dismay was muffled by his cock, and there was betrayal in her eyes. Surely they couldn't be<i>enjoying</i>this?<br/><br/>When he gripped her horn again, she didn't even have the drive left to feel angry, and didn't resist as he slipped himself out. She gasped for breath as her mouth was freed of obstruction, a thin string of saliva connecting her lower lip to his head for a few moments. He forced her to look on as they gave in to lust, but when she searched their faces, not one would look her in the eye. Her cheeks were flushed with both exhaustion and humiliation, and she dropped her head with a quiet sigh, her heart sinking. She could feel the heat rolling off his manhood as he almost-affectionately rested it against her face, smell both his musk and her own saliva on it, mingling. Something hot and wet prickled at the corners of her eyes as he wordlessly bid she get back to work, though she'd be damned before she let him see her heart breaking.<br/><br/>Shortly after he had pushed himself back into her throat, she felt him shift again, this time pulling her forward slightly. Her hands had been braced to his thighs, but one now lowered to rest on the ground to support herself in their new position. Cool air brushed her nethers as they were raised and exposed, dust and grime beginning to accent her sweat-streaked skin. She flinched as she heard their reaction to the sight, her flushed hindquarters bared to their view. While the scents of the act, indeed the act itself, had been enough to rouse some purely-physical response from her, nobody could have mistaken that for true enjoyment on her part. Rysalt's sibilant purr was just more shard of despair lodging in her chest. Unlike other commanders, such as her sire, she hadn't demanded respect through martial prowess or bloodline. She sought to be an inspiration, a flame on the battlefield that they could draw courage from. To be brought so low, and to see those she had considered her comrades and friends react in such a way, was almost more than she could bear.<br/><br/>She could feel him getting closer, the tension of his muscles and the twitch of his cock betraying him, and braced accordingly. What she hadn't expected, however, was the sheer volume he produced. Salty, viscous warmth flooded her mouth and coursed down her throat, making her breath hitch for a moment as he pushed himself deep. She gasped and coughed as he withdrew again, still releasing, and had little choice but to shut her eyes and accept his mark. She felt it wash against her face, flooding her nose with his scent, as he purposefully painted her in seed. When the torrent finally ebbed, she reached up to wipe her eyes clear, then the rest of her face, giving a few more weak coughs to dislodge the ropes of cum still sticking in the back of her throat. She hardly struggled as he tugged her away, and it took her a moment to realize that the overpowering wave of grief and humiliation had almost dulled--she felt nothing. She was just...numb, like her mind was desperately trying to shield itself in a last-ditch effort to protect her sanity. She looked right through her former followers with hollow eyes. When she heard Rysalt's command, however, that wall cracked, and he'd feel her suddenly tense and pull away as she tried to right herself. "You said you'd let them<i> live,"</i>she growled out with what force she could muster. Her surrender for their lives, that was the deal, and she'd hold him to it.