fight Sorlag
battle goes on for hours
eventually, battered and bruised, Sorlag stands over you, a toothy grin across her wide maw
"I'm going to KEEP you, warmblood."
she drags you back to her sweltering jungle homeworld, rips off your clothes, and makes you her slave for life.
with no way to resist or get home, you eventually submit under the domination of the sorg

You walk in the muggy heat, beads of sweat dotting your naked body. You're journeying under an alien sky, a jungle world that has been your home for you don't know how long.

A tug around your neck. The collar fit around it pulls you forward, held in the sharp claws of a reptillian leading you forward. A sorg, a towering bipedal lizard with thick scales, legs, a tail, and teeth as long as knives. A plated, muscled body that oozed strength, the ground under her feet thudding out with every step. The corpse of a dead animal balanced on her shoulders, clasped with their other arm; their most recent kill, shot straight between the eyes with the heavy rifle now in its holster on the monster's back.

Sorlag. Your protector, and your tormentor. Your mistress and mate, the owner of your flesh. Since claiming you as her own, you've been her slave, not even allowed clothes as she takes you everywhere she goes, using you as her plaything between hunts and fights.

Coming to a clearing, Sorlag sniffs the air, testing it. Judging it to be acceptable, she leads you over to a nearby rock, sitting down on it, plopping the dead beast's corpse next to her.

She speaks, her voice low, and raspy. Nothing like a human woman's voice. A sorg's voice; a warrior's voice.

"Another sssecessfful hunt!" she declares. "Thiss one almost got away! But in the end no prey escapes from Sorlag!" She turns her head, yellow serpentine eyes looking down on you. "Issn't that right, meat?"

You shiver. Meat, one of her many pet names for you. Meat. Slave. Pet. Little savage. She seemingly delights in reminding you of how weak and inferior you are to her, and how your body is her property.

With no warning, she bends down, her mouth opening wide, bands of saliva drooping down from her maw. She leans in, and on reflex you turn your head away, arching your neck. It's not a reflex of fear, but for what else you know is coming. Closing your eyes, you feel her warm, wet tongue slide across your neck in a long, loving slurp, hot breaths pouring across your body. She traces her tongue up your face, coating you in warm saliva, then pulls it back into her mouth, licking her lips.

"Ahhhh," she sighs. "Nothing like fressh meat after a kill. Sspeaking of..."

She hops up on the boulder, pulling her kill close. Without any pause, she plunges her rending claw into the dead animal's hide, ripping out a chunk of the animals innards. She throws the meat into her mouth, swallowing it whole, then looks down to you, her other hand still grasping your leash.

With a smile, she lifts one of her powerful legs and lowers it to your shoulder, her weight guiding you down. She pushes you all the way to the the ground until you're on your back, then guides the pad of her scaly foot to your face. You turn your head, allowing the weight of it to softly push it into the ground as she places her other clawed foot over your groin, two of her clawed toes grasping your hardening cock.

"Yesss," she coos, "you know your place."

You sigh, accepting her domination with a contented smile. You're to be under her feet, where you belong, until she's done eating. You close your eyes, hearing Sorlag continue to tear through her meal. As she does, she begins to move her foot above your cock, slowly stroking your shaft between her toes. Her way of rewarding her slave for being in their proper place, and to warm up her warmblood for what came next. Your heart bounds in anticipation, pulse quickening as the sorg delivers her slow footjob.

After a few minutes, the sounds of her chewing cease. You keep your place, her foot still firmly planted against your cheek. After a few moment, she removes her foot from your cock, and a whimper escapes your lips.

"Please..."

"What was that, sslave?" she demands.

"Please, Sorlag."

The pressure on your face vanishes. You turn up to Sorlag blushing hot, her gaze meeting yours, tiny strands of drool running down from her jaws.

“Has the ssslave had enough?” she laughs. “You're even weaker than Sorlag thought.”

She lifts up her foot, gently grinding your face into the ground one last time for good measure before reaching down, picking you up with both her hands. She holds you in front of her, wearing a mischievous grin.

“You are lucky I'm in a good mood,” she says, “otherwissse I'd have to just gobble you all up. Unlessss, you'd like that. Would you like that, sssslave?”

You nod, your face beet red.

She reaches up to your neck, unfastening your collar. It clatters to the ground, and she sets you down on your own feet, then stomps over to a flat area on the ground. Her claws go to her rusted red armor, and she begins to pull it away. First, her shoulders, then her legs. Then, the plate covering her groin. When she removes it, she reveals a green, tight slit, already wet and dripping.

She beckons you over, curling a claw. Even without your leash, she knows you won't run. Unless she makes you. She does enjoys the chase sometimes.

But not today. She sinks to the ground, laying on her back, spreading her legs invitingly.

“Well?” she growls. “Are you going to mate with Sorlag, or are you just going to ssstand there?”

You walk over, your heart beating out of your chest, cock raised and rock-hard. You join Sorlag on the ground, laying on her chest, taking just a moment to savor her powerful body, and her slow, powerful heartbeat.

Sorlag lays a claw on your back, alloying you your brief moment. When you linger, a warning hiss escapes from between her teeth. You gulp, line yourself up with her wet pussy, and dive in. Her wet sheath parts to allow your entry, warm slick walls sucking in your cock. Your breath hitches from the pleasure enveloping your cock, and Sorlag tilts her head back, a moan of relief escaping her own mouth.

You slowly pull back out, her tight pussy squeezing your cock on the way out. Another moan escapes your lips as your body begins to act on its own, desperate to please your owner. You roll your hips forward, again pushing in as far as you can go before again sliding back out, waves of pleasure dancing across your loins with every push.

Sorlag hisses, but not angrily. It's a hiss of delight, and she strokes your shoulders, tapping your back and spreading her legs wider.

You happily oblige, and quicken your pace, your balls slapping against her scaly hide with every stroke. You're in heaven, her pussy inviting you in just to squeeze on the way out, every push sending pure bliss up your body and deep into your core. It feels good, being between Sorlag's legs. It feels right.

Sorlag is enjoying herself as well. Her head is tilted back, eyes closed, her long tongue lolling out of her mouth as she enjoys your strokes, making little snarls and hisses of joy with every movement. Her body moves under yours, undulating to make your every push as pleasurable as possible to her, and you as well.

You slam against her body again and again, your face going flush as the tension rises in your cock. Sorlag's own loins tighten as well, the sorg's breaths becoming quicker and quicker with every stroke. As you pound against her, she lifts her head to get a good look at her slave, and when she does, you slam into her pussy with everything you have, pushing against her waist. The movement catches her off-guard, and her eyes go wide as the orgasm rolls over her. She roars, body shuddering in satisfaction, clawed toes curling. As her body quakes under yours, you know you've satisfied her, and with another final push, send yourself into your own orgasm.

It rolls through you like a storm, your cock dumping load after load into her waiting pussy, unearthly delight shooting through with every amazing pulse with your mistress continues to writhe under you, tossing her head side-to-side in delighted snarls. You cum and cum until Sorlag's own powerful orgasm begins to taper off, and only then do the constant waves of sexual bliss begin to die down into small, sputtering jolts of pleasure. Before long, you're nothing but a drenched, sweaty mess, your cock still buried in her pussy, your cum slowly leaking out of her reptilian sex.

You pant, gasping for air, Sorlag doing the same, one of her claws resting upon your back. After a shared moment of intimacy, she licks her lips, looking up to you with contented eyes. She reaches up her hand, gently running her claws through your hair.

She takes amusement in your exhaustion, and chuckles. “I like them warm and breathless.”

She reaches down to her pussy, then pulls away, fluids sticking between her claws. “You've made quite a mess, sslave,” she says in a mocking tone. “I think you need a bath.”

You pull out, and as soon as you do, Sorlag grabs you by your waist, standing up and taking you with her. With her own strength, she lifts you into the air like you weigh nothing, bringing your crotch up to her mouth. She opens wide, more saliva running from her jaws as her long tongue curls forward. With no shame or hesitation, she runs it up your softening member, slurping up the fluids covering your groin, and coating it with her own drool.

Sorlag's definition of a bath. Whenever she judges you need one, she simply licks you clean.

She runs her pink tongue over your arms and legs, your chest and hair, but her attention keeps coming back to your groin. She licks your privates like a treat, savoring your taste, her soft slurping sounds mixing with the forest around you. You moan as she tastes you, and you lay your hands on her head, your head tilting back as your cock begins to harden once more. It's not long before you're back to full mast, the pleasure of her “bath” running tingles up your spine. You cum without warning, blasting another load into the sorg's waiting mouth. She gulps it down greedily, sucking down every drop until you can give no more, then keeps lovingly running her tongue across your loins with no intention of stopping.

You groan, accepting your fate. When you look down at your owner, your eyes meet hers, and your heart melts as you detect a glint of affection in her slit, golden eyes and you know something in your soul more than anything else: She loves you. She uses and dominates and humiliates you, but it's her lingering licks and teasing words that assure you that she values you more than anything else. Your enslavement is a gift, and you will repay her the only way a slave can. Under her clawed feet.