For the longest time, while her "sisters" were grappled and split open by Pride's strange and darkly erotic organs, Dancer could do no more than sit in paralyzed awe, sweat pouring down her face as she desperately focused on controlling them.  Though each woman was being taken in the most complete and skilled way, Pride had forgotten to blindfold her or make her turn around, allowing her to more easily control the gorgeous illusory solars. She soon found sitting still impossible, though, as her loins and ass were tingling in the most amazing way. She deadened the sensations from her illusions as much as she dared without losing sensation entirely, but it was hard to focus anyway.<br/><br/>When he kissed Maryanne, though...that was when the real trouble began. Somehow the sensation was transmitted in full to her, his forked, delicious tongue exploring her mouth lasciviously...<br/><br/><strong><em>No. NO! Not my mouth! Maryanne's mouth!</em></strong>she thought in horror, but her discipline was already broken, and as Maryanne felt that fat bitch-breaker between his legs push in hard, she felt it too. Her fingers dug into the arms of the stone chair she sat in, digging furrows in its surface. And while she bent her whole will on separating herself from Maryanne, the other illusions began to experience a flood of Malfean essence that was transmitted straight to her, the true target. She resist mightily, her brow flaring bright as she focused, but after barely a minute of this the golden bulwark around her mind gave way to the brass-bright holocaust of essence.<br/><br/>She keened a cry of pure sensation (whether it was pain or pleasure was hard to tell), and thrashed on her chair, quickly bashing the sturdy thing to pebbles. The illusions all shrieked in unison, then disappeared in a puff of golden mist. By the time the dust cleared, she was a mess, caked in grey powdered stone, with dark moist tracks running down her cheeks and the sides of her thighs.<br/><br/>Groaning, she rolled over and crawled to her knees, then moved on hands and feet to prostrate herself before Pride.<br/><br/>"Please, master." she burbled pitifully, her body quivering with continuing need. "Please don't torment me anymore. I need you!"<br/><br/>Desperate for his consent and unable to think of any way to further debase herself, she grasped his ankle and began to lick the top of his foot. Long swipes of her tongue were interspersed with soft mewling, and plaintive glances upward.