Chapter 11: The King's Whore
The cavern had changed.
Not the bones of it—the jagged black stone remained, slick with that ancient oil that never seemed to dry, the veins of enchanted crystal still pulsed with sickly green flame. But the trappings had transformed. Where once there had been only crude furs and scattered weaponry, now there were silks. Bolts of crimson and gold draped from the ceiling in luxurious cascades. Thick carpets woven with intricate patterns covered the rough floor. Braziers of polished bronze replaced the crude obsidian rings, their flames now scented with rare incenses that curled through the chamber like the breath of sleeping gods.
And at the center of it all, sprawled across a mountain of velvet cushions, Candy stretched like a satisfied cat.
Six months. One hundred and eighty days of nothing but pleasure, power, and the slow, delicious unraveling of everything she had once been. She ran her fingers through her hair—long now, impossibly long, cascading past her waist in waves of platinum blonde streaked with cotton-candy pink. The strands felt like silk against her palm. Everything about her felt like silk now. Her skin had taken on a luminous quality, soft and warm and perpetually flushed with a faint pink glow that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
She wasn't embarrassed anymore. She couldn't remember how to be.
Her body had become something else entirely during the transformation. The curves that had emerged at Level 50 had only grown more pronounced with each subsequent level, each new depravity she had embraced. Her tits were massive now—heavy, full, the kind of breasts that demanded attention, that spilled over the tops of any garment she wore, that bounced and swayed with every movement. Her ass had swollen into a perfect, round masterpiece of flesh, so large and firm that she could feel it shift when she walked, could feel the weight of it, the power of it.
And her lips. Gods, her lips. They were obscene now, pillowy and full, perpetually parted and slick, designed for exactly what she spent most of her days doing. They wrapped around cocks like they had been made for it because they had been. Her hidden desires had shaped this body, and her hidden desires had apparently been very, very specific.
She lifted one hand, admiring the way the green flame caught the light on her nails. They were ridiculous—long acrylic extensions painted a shimmering gold, curved and impractical, decorated with tiny gems that sparkled when she moved. She couldn't grip anything properly with them. She couldn't make a fist. They were whore's nails, pure and simple, and she loved them. Loved the way they looked wrapped around a thick shaft. Loved the way they scratched down Thresh's back when he fucked her. Loved how they announced to the world exactly what she was.
A whore. A slut. A creature of pure, unapologetic lust.
Candy smiled and stretched, arching her back so her tits thrust upward, the sheer golden fabric of her gown pulling taut across her nipples. The gown was a joke—a beautiful, expensive joke. It covered her in the technical sense, draping from her shoulders to her ankles, but the fabric was so fine, so translucent, that it concealed absolutely nothing. Her nipples were visible, dark and hard against the gold. The curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the shadow between her thighs—all of it was on display, a gift wrapped in gossamer for anyone who cared to look.
And people looked. They always looked.
"Thinking about something dirty again?"
Morgana's voice purred from somewhere to her left. Candy turned her head, and there she was—her lover, her fellow queen, sprawled across a pile of cushions in a matching gown of sheer gold. Morgana had transformed too, her body reshaped by the same dark magic that had remade Candy. Her purple hair now fell in waves past her shoulders, streaked with silver that caught the firelight. Her curves were just as obscene as Candy's, her tits just as heavy, her lips just as full.
But there was something different in Morgana's eyes now. Something softer. The bitterness that had once twisted her features had faded, replaced by a contentment that Candy had never seen before.
"Always," Candy replied, her voice a low, throaty thing that still surprised her sometimes. She had sounded like a hero once. Now she sounded like a woman who had spent six months learning exactly what her throat was for.
Morgana laughed, a rich, warm sound. "I can smell it on you. You're fucking soaked, aren't you?"
Candy didn't bother denying it. She reached down, sliding her hand between her thighs, and her fingers came away glistening. "Been wet since I woke up. It's getting worse."
"It's not getting worse. You're just finally admitting what you are."
Morgana crawled toward her, moving with a predator's grace that made Candy's breath catch. The cushions shifted beneath her weight, the silk whispering against skin. When she reached Candy, she didn't hesitate—she simply pushed her back against the pillows and settled between her legs, her face hovering inches from the wet heat of Candy's cunt.
"Let me take care of that," Morgana murmured.
And then her mouth was there.
Candy gasped, her back arching off the cushions, her ridiculous nails digging into the velvet. Morgana's tongue was expert now, practiced from months of shared pleasure, and she knew exactly how to work Candy's body. She licked up the length of her slit, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste. Then she circled Candy's clit with the tip of her tongue, light and teasing, before sucking it between her lips.
"Oh, fuck," Candy breathed. "Fuck, Morgana, yes..."
Morgana hummed against her, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure up Candy's spine. She worked her tongue in circles, then dipped lower, pushing inside Candy's dripping hole, fucking her with her mouth while her nose pressed against her clit. Candy's hips bucked, her thighs clamping around Morgana's head.
She was close already. It didn't take much anymore. Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending amplified by the succubus transformation, every touch sending her spiraling toward release. She had come more times in the past six months than in her entire life before, and yet each orgasm felt as overwhelming as the first.
"Don't stop," she begged. "Please, don't stop, I'm gonna—"
Morgana redoubled her efforts, thrusting her tongue deeper, reaching up to pinch Candy's nipple through the sheer fabric of her gown. The dual sensations crashed together, and Candy screamed as she came, her vision going white, her body convulsing around Morgana's face.
The pleasure rippled through her in waves, each one more intense than the last. She rode it out, her fingers tangled in Morgana's hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When she finally opened her eyes, Morgana was looking up at her with a self-satisfied smirk, her chin glistening with Candy's juices.
"Feel better?"
"Much." Candy laughed weakly. "Gods, you're good at that."
"I've had practice." Morgana crawled up her body and pressed a kiss to her lips. Candy tasted herself on Morgana's tongue, and the intimacy of it made her heart swell. Six months ago, she would have been disgusted by this—by the casualness of it, the raw filth of it. Now she couldn't imagine anything more natural.
Morgana settled beside her, both of them lying among the cushions, their bodies tangled together. For a moment, they simply breathed, the only sound the distant drip of water against stone.
"I leveled up again," Morgana said quietly.
Candy turned to look at her. "What? When?"
"Last night. While Thresh was fucking me." A dreamy smile crossed her face. "I hit fifty-five. The transformation is... different than I expected. I thought it would hurt, but it just felt good. Really, really good."
"Tell me about it."
Morgana traced a finger along Candy's collarbone, her expression thoughtful. "It's like... my whole body is more sensitive now. Not just my cunt and my tits. Everything. When he touches my shoulder, I feel it in my pussy. When he kisses my neck, I come a little. It's overwhelming, but in the best way."
Candy nodded slowly. "I felt the same way at first. It fades after a while—or maybe you just get used to it. Either way, you learn to enjoy it."
"I'm already enjoying it." Morgana's smile widened.
"Look at us." Morgana laughed softly. "Two transformed succubus mages, living in a goblin king's den, wearing nothing but see-through gold, fucking our way to power. If you had told me a year ago this was where we'd end up..."
"I would have called you insane." Candy paused. "And then I probably would have called you a slut and stormed off."
"You did call me a slut. Many times."
"Fuck, I was such a prude back then." Candy shook her head, her blonde-and-pink hair fanning across the pillows. "I thought I was so righteous. So pure. So much better than everyone else."
"You were afraid," Morgana said gently. "Afraid of what you wanted. Afraid of losing control."
"Look at me now." Candy gestured at her own body—the massive tits, the obscene lips, the whore's nails. "I've completely lost control. And I've never been happier."
It was true. The realization struck her like a physical blow. Six months ago, she had been Candice Dixon, the hero of a village that didn't even know she existed anymore. She had defined herself through discipline, through duty, through the rigid denial of every desire that flickered in her heart. She had been respected. She had been strong.
She had been miserable.
Now she was Candy. She couldn't fight with a sword worth a damn. She couldn't channel magic the way she used to. Her entire fighting style had devolved into seduction and draining, a technique that required her to spread her legs and take cock after cock until her enemies collapsed from exhaustion rather than the careful, strategic casting she had once mastered.
And she loved it.
"Hellooo, slut." Morgana's voice cut through her reverie, and Candy looked over to find her lover grinning. "I can practically hear you thinking. You're going to leave wrinkles in that perfect face."
"I don't think succubi can get wrinkles."
"Then you have nothing to worry about." Morgana shifted, rolling onto her stomach to face Candy directly. "I have an idea. You want to hear it?"
"Depends. Is it a dirty idea?"
"Very dirty. And also kind of... sweet?"
Candy raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
Morgana propped her chin on her hand, her expression turning thoughtful. "So. The paladins. Remember how we came here because they were hunting us?"
Candy's mood darkened slightly at the memory. She and Morgana had arrived at Thresh's den desperate, begging for protection from the holy warriors who hunted anyone bearing demonic marks. Without his intervention, they would have been executed or worse. "Hard to forget."
"They've moved on," Morgana continued. "They're searching for us in the southern territories now. No one's looking for us here."
"That's good news, I guess." Candy frowned. "What's your point?"
"My point is that we can do something we couldn't before." Morgana's eyes gleamed. "We can leave."
"You want to leave?"
"Nah, I want to live with Thresh a little bit longer" Morgana said, grinning, "but, sooner or later we would outgrow this place and move beyond. We can protect ourselves. But I want to stay for the sex and I would assume the same for you, because we both know you like getting fucked a lot."
"I'll always love getting fucked." Candy hugged Morgana to her, pressing their bodies close, feeling the warmth of her lover's skin, the soft weight of her tits against her own. "I like it. I like all of it."
"Who's the goddess of whores now?" Morgana whispered against her ear, referencing the succubus queen, the dark deity that had marked their souls.
"Lilith," Candy whispered back. "And I'm her faithful servant."
She was still surprised by how much she meant it.
The hours bled into one another, which was how Thresh found them when he returned from his council—the two of them tangled in the cushions, still in their sheer golden gowns, still slick with sweat and desire. The Goblin King was massive by mortal standards, standing a head taller than either of them, his green skin mottled with old scars, his eyes gleaming with an intelligence that belied his monstrous appearance.
He stopped at the edge of the cushions, looking down at them.
"You two look satisfied."
"We are," Morgana said, arching her back in a stretch that pushed her tits toward the ceiling. "Candy was being greedy and she needed to come."
"You couldn't wait for me?"
"Don't worry, my king." Candy rolled onto her stomach and crawled toward him on her hands and knees, her massive tits swaying with each movement. "I've still got plenty left for you."
She reached him and immediately nuzzled against his crotch, breathing in his scent. Even after six months, even after countless nights of fucking, the smell of him still made her mouth water. She pressed her face against the bulge in his leather trousers, rubbing her cheek against it like a cat seeking attention.
"Is that right?" Thresh's voice was low, amused. "Prove it."
Candy didn't need to be told twice. She reached for his belt, her ridiculous nails fumbling with the clasp, and managed to get his trousers open. His cock sprang free—thick, veined, already half-hard—and she wrapped both hands around it, stroking slowly as she leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip.
"Fuck, I love your cock," she murmured. "I love how big it is. I love how it tastes. I love the way it fills me up."
"You've made that clear." Thresh's hand came down on her head, not pushing, just resting there. "Many times."
"And I'll keep making it clear." Candy licked up the length of his shaft, her tongue flat and wet, savoring his taste. "Until you get tired of hearing it."
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing it." He watched her as she worked, his gaze heavy with approval. "You've changed, Candice. When you first came to me, you were stiff as a corpse. Angry. Untouched. Now look at you."
"Now I'm a whore." Candy took him into her mouth, deep, working her throat around his shaft the way she had learned over hundreds of hours of practice. Her lips stretched around him, slick and tight, and she hollowed her cheeks, creating suction that made him groan.
"Now you're a queen," Thresh corrected, his voice roughening. "My queen."
Candy pulled off him with a wet pop and looked up, her eyes glazed, her lips shimmering with saliva. "Same thing."
Thresh laughed. "Fair point."
Morgana had crawled over to join them, her own gown clinging to her curves as she pressed herself against Thresh's side, her hands roaming over his chest, his shoulders, his arms. She kissed his neck, his jaw, his ear—little nipping kisses that made him shiver.
"I want to be a queen too," she purred. "Since we're talking about titles."
"You are a queen." Thresh pulled her closer, one arm wrapped around her waist, his thumb stroking the curve of her hip through the sheer fabric. "My second queen. My vicious little witch."
"Vicious?" Morgana bit his earlobe lightly. "I'm a delight."
"You're a menace." His hand moved to her ass, squeezing the firm cheek through the gold fabric. "A gorgeous, insatiable menace."
"Mm. I like that better."
Candy resumed her work on his cock, taking him deeper now, bobbing her head in a steady rhythm. With Morgana distracting him up top, she could focus on what she did best—sucking dick like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Which, honestly, it kind of was. Sucking cock was how she drained power. Sucking cock was how she leveled up. Sucking cock was how she experienced the most exquisite pleasure her body could produce.
And gods, she loved it. Loved the weight of him on her tongue, the way his hips twitched when she hit a sensitive spot, the way his groans of pleasure made her own cunt ache with need. This was her purpose now. This was her path.
"Mmm." Morgana reached over and ran her fingers through Candy's hair, fondling her as she sucked. "Look at her. So eager. So devoted."
"She's perfect," Thresh said hoarsely. "Both of you are perfect."
"Perfect whores?"
"You said it, not me."
Morgana laughed and slid her hand down Candy's back, tracing the curve of her spine. Candy flushed with warmth at the touch—she always did now, always craved that contact. The urge to rut against something, to wrap her tits around something, to have bodies pressed against her at all times—it never truly went away. She was constantly, achingly aware of her own flesh and its capacity for pleasure.
That was the secret no one knew about the transformation. It wasn't just that it made you beautiful. It wasn't even that it made you powerful. It was that it made you need it. Made you want it. Made you feel like you were dying if you went too long without a cock in your cunt or a tongue on your clit or hands on your tits dragging you toward the edge.
Six months ago, Candice Dixon would have run from that feeling. Would have suppressed it, punished herself for having it, pretended it didn't exist.
Now Candy embraced it. Because Candy knew something her old self never could—that surrender was its own kind of strength.
Thresh's hand tightened on her head, and she knew from the tension in his thighs that he was close. She moved faster, her lips tight around his shaft, her nails lightly scraping his balls. Above her, Morgana continued to whisper filthy things in his ear—"she loves it so much" and "she's going to drain you dry" and "she wants your cum in her throat"—and Candy felt a surge of power rush through her mark.
The brand on her lower stomach burned pink, and she pulled his climax from him like a physical thing, drinking him down. He came hard, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed down her throat, and she swallowed, swallowed, swallowed, until there was nothing left.
When she finally pulled off, her lips were puffy and slick, her makeup ruined, her hair in disarray. She looked, she knew, exactly like what she was—a woman who had been thoroughly used and loved every minute of it.
"Why don't you sit on the throne?" she suggested, her voice raspy.
"Mmm?"
"The throne." She gestured at the magnificent seat, the fused bones topped with velvet cushions. "Sit on it. Let me and Morgana take care of you. It's been so long since we've had a proper audience."
Six months ago she would have been nervous to perform for audiences, but now the whole goblin court had watched them fuck countless times. The ogres, the trolls, even Thresh's lieutenants had all seen Candy's ass bouncing on their king's cock, had all heard her screaming her pleasure into the cavern air.
That was the point of being a whore queen. Everyone watched.
And now that they were openly serving Thresh everywhere, not just at night, they would be watched even more.
Thresh's advisors were already gathered in the cavern, waiting for their king's attention. They stood near the walls, trying to look anywhere but at the naked, glowing women pleasuring their master. But their eyes kept drifting back. It was impossible not to look.
Candy noticed every glance. And she savored it.
She traced her fingers along the shaft of Thresh's cock, still exposed from his open trousers, and leaned in to whisper, "Do you want me to stop? Send everyone away?"
"No." His voice was low, rough. "Let them see."
"As you wish, my king."
She slid off his lap and knelt before the throne, positioning herself between his legs. Morgana did the same on the other side, and together they looked up at Thresh with expressions of pure, devoted adoration. Candy could feel the heat of the flames on her bare skin, the slick of her own arousal between her thighs, the throb of her brand as it drank in the lust that filled the room.
There was magic in this moment—not just sex, but real, tangible power. The attention of the goblins watching them only amplified it. Candy could feel their gazes like fingertips on her skin, could taste their hunger in the air. Her mark pulsed in response, flooding her veins with delicious warmth.
She loved being watched. She loved being wanted. She loved being the object of every filthy thought in the cavern.
Behind them, the throne's occupants—Thresh's most trusted subordinates—watched with a mixture of awe and barely concealed lust. One of them, a massive brute with tusks and a scarred face, shifted uncomfortably, his cock visibly straining against his leathers.
Candy sensed an opportunity. She smiled at him, slow and predatory, and blew a kiss in his direction. The goblin looked away, embarrassed—but his arousal was undeniable.
"Looks like you have an audience," she murmured to Thresh, still stroking his cock with deliberate, teasing strokes.
Thresh's hand clamped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to his crotch until her lips were pressed against his half-hard shaft. "This audience is watching their king claim his property. If they can't handle it, they can leave."
"I don't think they want to leave," Morgana purred, kneeling beside Candy. "I think they want to watch."
"Then let them watch," Candy said, and took him in her mouth again, deeper this time, her throat working around his length. "Let them see exactly what a devoted whore looks like."
Thresh's eyes flicked over the cavern, over his chieftains and captains, over the gathered goblins who served him. The weight of their combined attention pressed against Candy's skin like a physical force. When Thresh spoke, the words weren't just for her—they were a proclamation. "From this day forward, you two are my queens. My consorts. My most valuable possessions. You will accompany me everywhere. You will be at my side during feasts, during council meetings, during war councils. You will serve me with your bodies, your minds, and your devotion. In return, you will have my protection and my favor."
Candy's mark throbbed in response—her power surging with the public acknowledgment.
She pulled her mouth away from Thresh's cock just long enough to look up at him, her expression reverent and completely sincere. "Yes, my king."
"And you'll be wearing these." Thresh gestured, and an attendant rushed forward with two bundles of shimmering fabric. Even before he unfolded them, Candy could see it was the sheerest, most decadent gold, so fine it looked more like liquid light than cloth. "You wear nothing else."
Candy reached out to touch the golden material. It felt impossibly light, almost like wearing nothing at all. She looked at Morgana and saw her own excitement mirrored in her eyes.
"Nothing else?" Morgana clarified, a wicked smile on her lips.
"Nothing else."
The first chance she got, Candy snatched up her golden gown and pulled it on. The fabric didn't just cover her; it decorated her, accentuating every curve, turning her body into a work of art. Her nipples showed through as dark smudges. The shadow between her legs was visible, though blurred by the shimmering cloth.
She looked down at herself with a grin. "I look like a whore."
"You look like a goddess," Thresh corrected. "A goddess of pleasure and ruin."
Candy pondered that. Goddess of ruin. Not a title she'd ever aspired to, but it suited her somehow.
"Now," Thresh said, "we prepare for the feast tonight. You will both attend. You will wear nothing but those gowns."
"Yes, my king," they responded in unison.
"And then we will discuss our plans."
Plans, Candy thought. Plans for the village. Plans for the gold. Plans for the future.
Plans for the moment when she returned to the place she had once called home—not as its protector, but as its conqueror.
She licked her lips and felt her cunt clench with anticipation.
"What kind of plans?" she asked.
Thresh led them to the raised platform where his throne sat, its carved leering faces watching as he settled into the cushions. He gestured for them to join him—one on each side—and they climbed up eagerly, settling onto their knees beside his massive chair. Candy's sheer golden gown pooled around her thighs, and she pressed her chest against his arm, letting him feel the soft weight of her tits against him.
Morgana mirrored her on the opposite side, nuzzling his neck, draping herself against him.
"For six months, you have served me well," Thresh said, his deep voice carrying across the cavern. "You have displayed all the devotion and grace of true royal consorts. Your service has earned you a place at my side. You will come with me everywhere—to the borders of my territory, to the human settlements, to the halls of other chieftains. You will be seen. You will be admired. And when we return to this den, you will be rewarded with pleasures beyond anything you have ever known."
Candy's cunt clenched at the words. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his ear. "And what about my old village? The barrier?"
"Soon," he promised, his hand coming to rest on her bare thigh. "The barrier weakens. I can feel it. And when it falls, you will have your revenge."
It wasn't just revenge she wanted. It was also the power. The gold. The transformation. Everything she had sacrificed herself for, everything she had surrendered her morality for—it was all still waiting for her.
She was Candy now.
But she was also still Candice Dixon—and Candice had never forgotten a promise.
She reached down and wrapped her fingers around Thresh's cock, stroking slow and steady, feeling it harden under her touch. Morgana moved on his other side, kissing his neck, his jaw, his shoulder. Together they worked him, worshipped him, served him—and as the goblin court watched, Candy felt her brand pulse with power.
She was so close to level seventy-five. She could feel the potential, the promise of true ascension—of full succubus transformation.
Just a little more. A little more pleasure, a little more devotion, a little more surrender.