Chapter 9: The Royal Whore Queen's
The room Thresh had given them was a mockery of comfort.
Silk cushions piled high on a bed carved from blackened oak. Candles that burned with green flame, casting sickly shadows across walls veined with the same molten glow as the throne room. A copper tub filled with steaming water sat in the corner, perfumed with something floral and cloying. Everything designed to soothe.
Nothing could soothe the fire in Candice's veins.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her body still trembling from the council chamber. Cum had dried in patches on her skin—her thighs, her stomach, her tits. She could feel it crusting in her hair. Could smell it on her breath. Could taste it at the back of her throat no matter how many times she swallowed.
And she was still horny.
Her mark pulsed against her belly like a second heartbeat, demanding attention, demanding more. The pink light had dimmed to a soft glow, but it hadn't faded entirely. It never faded entirely anymore.
Beside her, Morgana stretched like a satisfied cat, her purple hair fanned across the pillows, her full breasts rising and falling with slow breaths. She looked content. Peaceful. Like she hadn't just spent three hours getting fucked by a dozen goblin warriors.
"You're thinking too loud," Morgana murmured without opening her eyes.
"Fuck off."
"Still got that mouth on you." The witch smiled, lazy and satisfied. "I wonder how long that'll last."
Candice turned her head, glaring. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're changing." Morgana finally opened her eyes, those purple irises gleaming in the candlelight. "The mark. It's not just making you stronger. It's making you... different."
"I'm not different."
"You came seventeen times in there. I counted."
Candice's face burned. She wanted to argue. Wanted to deny it. But the truth was there, sticky and undeniable, coating her thighs and her conscience alike.
"That's just—" she started.
"The mark. I know." Morgana rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her breasts pressed together, nipples still hard. "But here's the thing, sweetie. The mark doesn't make you do anything you don't already want to do. It just... removes the barriers."
"I didn't want that."
"Didn't you?"
Candice opened her mouth to respond—and stopped.
Because she had. Somewhere deep inside, beneath the years of discipline and denial, she had wanted it. Every moment of it. The degradation. The roughness. The feeling of being used, filled, claimed.
She'd wanted all of it.
And she hated herself for it.
"See?" Morgana said softly. "There it is."
"Don't."
"Don't what? Tell you the truth?" The witch sat up, the movement making her breasts sway. "I've been where you are, Candice. Not exactly—my mark's imperfect, remember?—but I know what it feels like. The shame. The guilt. The way your body betrays everything your mind tells you is wrong."
"You chose this."
"I did." No hesitation. No apology. "And I'd choose it again. Because the power is worth it. The pleasure is worth it. And the shame? The guilt?" She shrugged. "That fades. Eventually."
Candice closed her eyes. Her mark throbbed, sending little pulses of heat through her belly, her cunt, her aching nipples.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered.
Morgana was quiet for a long moment.
"Your level jumped five times tonight," she finally said. "From forty-five to fifty. That's not normal. That's not even possible for a normal mage. But you're not a normal mage anymore, are you?"
Candice shook her head.
"The mark is evolving you. Changing you into something that can hold more power. More lust. More everything." Morgana reached out, her fingers tracing the edge of Candice's mark. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. "And at level fifty..."
She didn't finish.
"At level fifty, what?"
Morgana smiled. "You'll see."
Before Candice could demand an answer, the door swung open.
Thresh filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking out the green light from the corridor. He had to duck to enter, his horns scraping the stone above. His crimson eyes swept the room—the dried cum, the tangled sheets, the two women still naked and glistening.
"Good," he rumbled. "You're awake."
"We were resting," Morgana said, her tone just shy of insolent. "Your warriors were... enthusiastic."
"They were holding back." Thresh crossed the room in three strides, his presence sucking the air from the space. "I told them to. I wanted to see how you'd handle it."
"And?"
"You passed." He stopped at the foot of the bed, looming over them like a mountain of scarred green flesh. "Both of you. Welcome to the royal court as Whore Queens. Tomorrow I give you your titles formally."
Candice sat up, her body protesting. "Titles?"
"Royal Whore Queens." Thresh's lips peeled back from his tusks in something that might have been a smile. "You'll have your own quarters. Your own servants. You'll eat what I eat, sleep where I sleep. You'll be treated like royalty."
Morgana's eyes narrowed. "In exchange for?"
"Your cunts. Your mouths. Your asses." The words were blunt. Brutal. "Whenever I want them. However I want them."
"That's it?" Candice asked. "Just... you?"
Thresh's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean, 'just me'?"
"I mean..." She hesitated. "You said we'd service your warriors. The council. But if we're royal—"
"You're mine." The words came out like a growl, low and possessive. "Only mine. From now on, no one touches you but me."
Morgana laughed. Actually laughed—a genuine, surprised sound. "You're serious?"
"I am."
"Why?"
Thresh was quiet for a moment. Then he reached down and grabbed Candice by the hair, hauling her off the bed and onto her knees. She gasped, her hands flying up to grip his wrist, but he didn't let go. He just held her there, his cock—already half-hard—level with her face.
"Because I don't share," he said. "Not you. Not her. Not anymore."
Morgana had gone very still on the bed.
"You're jealous," she said slowly. "The great Goblin King. Level sixty. Master of the northern wilds. Jealous."
"I'm territorial." Thresh's grip tightened, making Candice whimper. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he used his free hand to unfasten his belt, letting his cock spring free. It was already thickening, the head glistening with precum, the shaft thick as Candice's forearm.
"Suck," he commanded.
And Candice—her mark blazing, her body aching, her mind screaming protests she no longer believed—opened her mouth.
---
Thresh's cock filled her completely.
Not just her mouth. Her throat. Her world. She could feel the head pressing against the back of her throat, feel the veins pulsing against her tongue, taste the salt and musk of him. He held her there for a long moment, letting her choke and sputter, before he began to move.
Slow. Controlled. Every thrust making her gag, making tears stream down her cheeks, making her mark burn brighter.
"That's it," he growled. "Take it. Take all of it."
Candice's hands gripped his thighs, her nails digging into scarred green flesh. Spit ran down her chin in thick ropes. Her jaw ached. Her throat burned. And still she sucked, hollowing her cheeks, moving her tongue along the underside of his shaft just the way she'd learned.
Behind her, she heard Morgana shift on the bed.
"Should I help?" the witch asked.
"No." Thresh's voice was thick with pleasure. "Watch. This is her training."
"Her training?"
"She's new to this. She needs to learn." He thrust deeper, making Candice's eyes water. "Her body's changing. Her mind is changing. But she still fights it. Still clings to her old self."
"Can you blame her?"
"I don't blame her. I'm breaking her."
The words hit Candice like a slap. She tried to pull back, tried to protest, but Thresh's hand clamped down on the back of her head, holding her in place.
"You wanted protection," he said. "You wanted power. This is the price. You don't get to be a whore queen and keep your pride. You don't get to serve me and still think you're better than this."
She didn't.
Gods help her, she didn't.
The mark pulsed. Heat flooded her body. And when Thresh finally came—his seed flooding her throat, too much to swallow, spilling from her lips and dripping onto her tits—she came with him.
Not from being touched. Not from any physical stimulation.
Just from the act of submission.
From being used.
From being owned.
She collapsed onto the stone floor, gasping, her body wracked with tremors. Her cunt clenched around nothing, dripping wet, her orgasm so intense it left her seeing stars.
Thresh looked down at her, his cock still hard.
"Good," he said. "Now get on the bed."
---
The bed was too small for him.
Thresh's massive frame took up most of it, his legs hanging off the end, his shoulders broader than the mattress. He lay on his back, his cock standing straight up from his groin like a monument, and gestured for Candice to climb on top.
"Ride me," he said.
She did.
Her body moved on instinct now, her cunt finding his cock and swallowing it to the base with a wet, obscene sound. She gasped as he filled her—stretched her—impaled her on his impossible length. Her hands pressed against his chest for balance, her tits swaying, her mark blazing.
"Fuck," she breathed.
"That's it. Fuck yourself on my cock."
She began to move.
Slow at first, her hips rolling, finding a rhythm. Then faster. Harder. She bounced on his shaft, her ass slapping against his thighs with each downward thrust, her tits bouncing wildly, her mouth hanging open in a continuous moan.
Thresh watched her through half-lidded eyes, his massive hands finding her hips. He guided her—not that she needed it. Her body knew what to do. Knew how to fuck. Knew how to take.
Had she always known?
The thought dissolved as another orgasm built inside her, coiling tight in her belly, spreading heat through her limbs. She rode him harder, chasing it, her nails raking down his chest, leaving red welts on his green skin.
"Come," he commanded.
She did.
Her cunt clenched around him like a fist, her body convulsing, her scream echoing off the stone walls. Thresh roared and thrust up into her, flooding her with another massive load—so much that it spilled out around his cock, dripping down his balls, pooling on the sheets beneath them.
She collapsed onto his chest, panting, trembling, spent.
And then her mark flared.
Brighter than ever. So bright it illuminated the entire room, casting pink shadows on the walls, making Morgana shield her eyes.
Candice screamed.
The pain wasn't pain. It was pressure. It was heat. It was every nerve ending in her body firing at once. She felt her bones shift, her muscles stretch, her skin tingle like it was being rewritten from the inside out.
Her tits swelled.
Not gradually—instantly. One moment they were full C-cups, the next they were massive, heavy mounds that would make a whore blush—round and pert, her nipples puffy and pink, sensitive enough that even the air against them made her gasp.
Her ass ballooned.
She felt it happen, felt the flesh of her buttocks expanding, rounding, becoming two huge, jiggly spheres that would bounce with every step. The kind of ass men stared at. The kind of ass that made women jealous.
Her lips plumped.
Not just her mouth—though her lips became thick, full pillows designed for sucking cock. But also her cunt lips, swelling with the same unnatural fullness, becoming plush and sensitive and wet.
Her hair lengthened.
Black strands turned to waves of blonde, streaked with pink, cascading down her back in a golden river. She could feel it growing, feel it changing, feel herself becoming something else entirely.
When it stopped, she lay gasping on Thresh's chest, her new body pressed against his.
"What—" she started.
But the word died in her throat.
Because she saw her reflection in the polished obsidian of the wall.
The woman staring back at her was unrecognizable. Beautiful—impossibly, unnaturally beautiful. Her face was the same, but softer, sexier, her lips parted in a perpetual pout. Her tits were huge, the kind of tits that made men stupid. Her waist had cinched in, making her hips flare out, her ass a massive bubble that jutted behind her.
She looked like a succubus.
She looked like a whore.
She looked...
"Perfect," Thresh murmured.
Morgana was staring at her, eyes wide, mouth slack. "Holy shit," she breathed. "You're... you're..."
"I know," Candice whispered.
The witch scrambled off the bed and crossed to her, her hands reaching out to touch—to explore. She cupped Candice's new breasts, weighing them, making her gasp. She traced the curve of her hips, her fingers sliding down to squeeze her massive ass.
"You transformed," Morgana said. "You actually transformed."
"I don't—I don't understand—"
"Level fifty, sweetie." Morgana's voice was full of wonder and something darker. "I told you. At level fifty, the mark changes you. Makes you into what you're meant to be."
"What I'm meant to be?"
"A succubus in training. A creature of lust. A body built for fucking." Morgana's fingers found her mark, now glowing brighter than ever. "You're not human anymore, Candice. Not entirely. You're becoming something else."
Candice looked down at herself. At her massive tits. Her plush lips. Her golden-pink hair. At the body that screamed "fuck me" with every curve.
And the worst part?
She liked it.
Her mark confirmed it—blazing with satisfaction, with power, with hunger. She felt stronger. Faster. More alive. Her mana reserves had expanded again, pressing against new limits.
She was level fifty-five now.
She could feel it.
"Congratulations," Thresh rumbled. He sat up, his cock already hardening again at the sight of her. "You're perfect. Exactly what I wanted."
"What you wanted?" Candice's voice was hoarse.
"I knew what you'd become when I saw your mark. A whore beyond compare." He reached for her, his massive hand closing around her hip. He pulled her onto the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees. Her new ass jutted up, huge and round and trembling. "First, you need to learn to serve. Completely. Without hesitation. Without thought."
He mounted her in one thrust.
She screamed—not in pain, but in pleasure. Her new body stretched to accommodate him, her new cunt clenching around him like it was made for his cock. He fucked her hard, his hips slamming against her massive ass, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.
Morgana watched from the corner, her fingers working between her own legs.
"That's it," Thresh growled. "Take it. Take all of it."
And Candice did.
She took everything he gave her—every thrust, every growl, every inch of his massive cock. She came twice before he finished, her new body more sensitive than she could have imagined, every nerve ending a live wire.
When he finally flooded her with his seed, she collapsed onto the bed, unable to move, unable to think.
Her mark glowed brighter than ever.
And somewhere, deep in her chest, something settled.
Something accepted.
She was a whore queen now.
And she was starting to love it.