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Chapter Text

How dare Rand try to give her Andor? Did he have any idea what it took to run this Matriarchy? If she let him do that, the people would dethrone her themselves. So, Elayne, wearing the flowing black silks of a daughter heir, golden hair draping in locks down her shoulders, dropped to her knees before her throne.

A man sat upon it, awkward and ill-fit in the seat build for a woman. He was rugged, with torn short trousers and vest. A broad grin revealed his broken teeth. Why did the inauguration have to start with the vagabonds? The entire throne room was filled with more men of this kind, their putrid stench of sweat almost strong enough to make Elayne’s eyes tear.

She sat back on her ankles and rubbed her eyes, and the man frowned at her. He looked around and others started murmuring. There were thousands of them, so it grew to quite the ruckus. The noise only intensified the deep reluctance within her. A little voice that said you don’t have to do this. There are others who want the throne. Or you could just try to let Rand’s military power hold the country. It was a little voice that she did her best to place beneath her and squash with the caps of her knees.

Birgitte didn’t help. The armoured woman in a long blonde braid crouched down to Elayne’s level and spoke into her ear, loudly over the din. “I don’t know what kind of ridiculous custom you flaming Andorans invented while I was dead, but your mother was queen. The throne is yours if you take it. The first thing you should do is outlaw this… ceremony.”

Squash the voice beneath your knees. Elayne did just that. Still kneeling, she bounced on the spot, imagining Birgitte’s words beneath her getting pounded into the red carpets. The man watched her breasts bounce with her, and, despite her heating face, she ignored it and kept going. That was nothing compared to what she was about to do anyway.

“Okay,” Birgitte said. “But, if you want out, I’m here. These bandits and sellswords are nothing compared to my squads.”

Standing in a circle around the room, like a human fence holding in the aforementioned men, Birgitte’s squads stood guard. Their eyes should be focused directly in front of them, but they glanced at Elayne every now and then. The men amongst them would get their chance tomorrow.

For now, the vagabond before her grew impatient. A mass in his pants pushed the material up, stretching it. “Come on, princess,” the man said. “Stop wasting time. I won the gambit last night to go first, based solely on my size. Get over here. Let me make you into a queen.”

Daughter heir, not princess. But Elayne swallowed the retort. She was not allowed to be petulant or indignant in this ceremony. If she did, she’d be immediately disqualified. She had to prove that she could serve the people. So, she did as she was told, walking over on her knees to the man’s throne. Now that she’d started the ceremony, that throne was his until Elayne earned it from him. Disqualification now meant that Andor would have its first king in centuries.

Elayne would not let that happen. She stopped before the man, kissed each of his feet, and then straightened. That voice crept back into her head as she stared at that bulging pants. How badly did she want this throne? Didn’t her body belong to Rand? He’d impregnated her already, yes, but she hadn’t even done… this with him yet. Why did she bite him when he tried to force her face down—

The man grabbed Elayne’s head and bashed it down into his lap. Her hair billowed with the impact and covered her face, turning all black. Her cheek was being pushed into a coiling mass, one so hard, it might as well have been solid. Her hair was pulled back from her face and held like a tail behind her head. The man used it to lift her face up to look at him.

“You going to waste my time, or are you going to dethrone me? I’m not interested in being king, princess. So get to work.”

It was a little hard to do, what with him rubbing her nose into his crotch the moment he finished speaking. A stench far worse than the sweat emitted from the material of his trousers, especially at the little damp spot where the tip of his… thing was.

“You know what,” he said. “I think you’re defying me. Doesn’t that count as failure? I’ll just name myself king, now, and then decree this your duty—”

Birgitte clutched the hilt of her sword.

Andor will not have a king! Elayne thought, raising her head against the force of the man’s hands. She clutched his pants and yanked it down.

A thick column of meat erupted from below her face, hitting her between the eyes and knocking her onto her bottom. Birgitte ran to her side and helped her up, but Elayne didn’t even look at her. Her eyes were fixed on the rising slab in the man’s lap. Both her hands couldn’t wrap around that thing. Mother’s milk in a cup, her’s and Birgitte’s might not go around that.

The other woman was staring, now, too. “Oh, Elayne…” Birgitte said. “Uhm. Elayne… you, uhm…”

Elayne tapped the speechless woman on the shoulder and waved her off, then got back onto her knees and crawled forward. The man grinned, but Elayne could only tell from the sound. His face was eclipsed by his girth. She swallowed, then crawled up his shins like a scared cat peeking over a fence. Rand was well endowed, but his cock could fit into this thing 4 or 5 times over. Was she even big enough?

“It’s time to find out,” the man said.

Had she spoken aloud? Elayne blushed.

The man reached out to grab her head, but she leaned in herself. Not just because she had to. The worm-like thing’s foreskin formed an opening as wide as her own lips. She placed her hands on the sides of the column—it was hot, and her hands felt like a baby’s holding a grown man’s thigh—and pushed the skin back. The foreskin lips, shrivelled as they were, stretched into smoothness and retreated, revealing an upper portion of pinkness the size of a fist. It smelt like an uncleaned privy with a muskier flavour of reproductive scents. A new opening stared at her. A single slit.

She looked up at the man.

He pointed at his member with his eyes, impatiently so.

Elayne opened her mouth slowly. Her heart beat faster, faster as she leaned in, tongue reaching out. She closed her eyes as she made contact, her tongue pressing into the man’s pee hole. It tasted like exactly what it channelled. Pee.

“Mmm,” the man purred, and lifted his hand onto her head. He gently worked her head in circles, making her tongue mirror the motion in his hold. He applied a gentle pressure downwards, and Elayne started hearing the voice again. She did a mini jump, her knees squashing the voice on the floor as her open mouth came down against the meat, pushing out the sides of her lips already.

“That’s it,” the man said, revolving her head. “But I’m still doing all the work. I don’t see any need for you here, or in Andor—”

Elayne pushed her head forward, and his fist-like head popped into her mouth. The sides of her lips hurt, stretching as the thing passed by and settled atop her tongue. When it did, her lips got to relax around the thinner relief behind his head. But her cheeks, on both sides of her face, were pushed out, mouth completely filled.

“Oh, princess,” the man said. “You should see your face.”

Elayne’s cheeks heated. He was looking down on her. Condescension. She’d show him. She tightened her jaw, trying to bring her teeth down on him. A pulse of panic ran through her as she realised that would end the ceremony right then. But his thick girth pushed down on her tongue and up on her upper palate, holding her at bay.

“That’s it,” he said, completely unaware of how close she’d come to crowning a new king. “Show some initiative.” His working of her head now saw the mass gyrating in her mouth, rubbing her insides. Why did that feel like betraying Rand? It didn’t matter. Andor mattered. She’d already given Rand her womb, anyway. So, she worked her own head, gyrating it, and moving her tongue back and forth.

The pulsing mass swelled even more in her mouth, stretching her jaw to its limits. The way she knelt here like this, it felt like she was a little girl on her knees screaming at someone’s lap at the top of her lungs.

But the man was enjoying the screaming. He leaned his head back, and placed both his hands on her head. But he put no effort into moving her. He just gripped her hair, gently guiding her this way and that, letting her know what and where felt good.

He might have moved her head in circles before, but it seemed what he actually liked was his woman moving their head and neck in a snake-like manner. When she realised that, she worked on streamlining the motion, her shoulders getting in on the smooth movements. That rewarded her with the man clutching her golden locks tighter as he slouched in his chair—soon to be her chair. Her tongue performed more complex motions, one of them turning out to garner the largest reaction from the man: her tongue sticking out of her mouth, pressed between her lower lip and his member, all the way to the back of his head, flicking against an upward v-shape. Each time she gave him that flick, he moaned softly, the sound Rand made before he had impregnated her. But this man didn’t give. He was holding himself back. Enjoying this. Enjoying her. A part of her wanted to lash out with every curse word Mat had taught her, but a greater part found deep satisfaction in figuring out what this man liked, needed, and providing it to him. She was to be his queen, wasn’t she? That was the least she could do.

So she gave him the occasional tongue flick on his v-shaped underside, even if it made the root of her tongue sore to reach that far. She gyrated her head and snaked her neck and shoulders, working to fulfil her subject’s desires, working so hard, his mass sunk deeper into her mouth, pushing her tonsils against the roof of her throat as it pressed in firmly to a canal he was far too large to ever penetrate. Her neck and back ached from the effort, but Elayne went on, losing herself in motions that became natural, second nature, ruling over this man’s pleasure like the queen that she was, giving everything within her to him, as his everything throbbed within her again, and again, until that final tongue-flick that made the mass contract in her mouth, relieving her aching jaw, but filling it with warm, thick man fluid that was trapped between his flesh and the back of her throat.

She tried to pull back, but the man’s grip on her hair had tightened, and he made a damn good try of pushing himself deeper into her. He failed, of course, but his juices went straight down her throat, some going into her windpipe, making her cough and gag and gasp furiously. Her eyes burned and watered, too, and all through it, the man held her in place, attempting to press her face into his hips as he emptied his load.

Elayne closed her eyes and stopped trying to breathe, calling on the stillness only one of the White Tower could possess. As she did, her gag reflex ended and her neck relaxed. It allowed more than warm semen to flow down her throat. It let the enormous slab of meat slide deeper, forcing her neck straight. She felt her neck bulge, and her groans turned from her recognisable voice to a deeper version of itself. Her arms were flailing, but she didn’t dare push against the man. He noticed her struggle, and stood, allowing her neck to turn up and straighten fully. She was now below the rugged man, on her knees, between his legs, with his cock embedded in her throat like one of those pyromancers in Valan Lucas’ circus. The man’s bucking squirts made his length pulse, expanding within her, and through her blurry eyes, she could see people crowd on her sides, likely to see the daughter heir’s bulging throat from a better angle.

Despite everything that she’d done already, all the people watching made her blush furiously, and she wondered, had her mother really done this, too? She must have. She had become queen. The man’s bucking ended, and he drew out—pushed in and out of her several times until the little mini contractions of his cock ended. Then he drew himself out of her like a sword from its sheath and dried the white liquid hanging from his foreskin onto her lips. She just knelt there, neck bent up at an uncomfortable angle, looking up at the man until he was done.

When she licked off and swallowed the wet-carpet-smelling stuff, he took a massive breath, and pulled up his pants. As he did, his girth softened to an unsuspecting thickness. Flaccid, it was as big as Rand was when hard. Recalling the feeling of Rand inside her made her wet between the thighs, and thinking about this man between her thighs made her think unspeakable things. Instead, she stood and ushered her new subject down the steps to the throne. The man walked off, bowing, quelled, satisfied.

Yes, Elayne was going to make quite the queen. She watched him leave, climbed the steps, and lowered herself to her knees again. “Next, please.”

Another ragged man approached the seat. She waved Birgitte over. “Make sure you find out where that last one is staying,” Elayne whispered.

Birgitte looked scandalised, but she grinned. “I’ve already sent someone to follow him.”

Elayne’s jaw gaped. She totally understood, though. Mother’s milk in a cup, she was dying to know what that would feel like between her thighs. But first, she had to earn the throne from every man in Andor. So, on her knees, she crawled over to the second man, and sucked him off. After a month of work, she’d made all of Caemlyn bow to her. Her true campaign began then. She went city to city, town to town, village to village, each of them having prepared her inauguration the night before she arrived. The pools prepared for her stank worse than any crotch she’d ever buried her face in—and she’d buried her face in many, she was already Andor’s biggest cocksucker now that her mother was dead. The pools of white had sat overnight, aging into a clearer goo with a stench that actually made her eyes water. But, toes-first, she jumped in, bathing in it and drinking her fill until every man of said location accepted her as their queen. Some places, like the Two Rivers, made her swim for hours, having to take breaks before she could drink any more, but, in the end, every time, she rose and they bowed.

By the end of her campaign, months later, her belly had swelled with her twins, babies grown from the nutrients provided by the five million men in the country. Her children would be truly Andoran. At the end of it all, Elayne finally gave Rand his blow job. She used that first man’s snaking motions on him, and got him off in—disappointing—seconds. No matter. Elayne and Birgitte had a date planned with that first man tonight. Elayne was dripping down there just thinking about it. Oh how long she had waited for this. She couldn't lie with that man while pregnant, his cock would murder her babies.

“Sorry,” Rand said, sitting up. “You’re just so good. I can still go.” He helped her up and lay her down.

She gently set him down beside her and brushed his cheek with her fingers. “You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m happy as long as you’re pleasured.”

She felt guilty as she said it, but it wasn’t her fault Rand was so little and so quick.

That night, the first man stretched her pussy more painfully than giving birth to twins. And Elayne loved every crying second of it.

Chapter Text

Within a pool of Andoran semen, Elayne Trakand gave birth to twins. She was so spent, she just let the wet nurse clean the babies while she slipped beneath the surface, sipping for some energy, enjoying the smoothness soothing her stretched pussy. Now that this was done, and her coronation was over, the big day was coming.

She could find her man. Her real man. The one with the massive cock. And find him she did. Their night was magical. She and Birgitte had shared him, too.

***

Now, Birgitte was dead.

Tarmon Gai’don was over, and all her work to earn Andor was gone to waste. Rand took her babies to the Dark, and Elayne’s man meat was dead. Now, she was locked in a little room not even fit for a servant. Her bed was a single blanket on the rough floors, and was constantly cum soaked—no doubt by many whose loads she’d eaten to earn Andor—to boot. When it wasn’t drenched, it was stiff as old parchment.

Like her legs. She’d been strung up yesterday for 36 hours, and would be again today.

All because of Nynaeve.

The bitch refused to obey. One whole year and she still refused, even when they’d threatened to punish Elayne. Then, she refused again, even after they punished Elayne.

Now, Elayne was going to be strung up and fucked by Trollocs.

The bell went.

Elayne jumped and climbed onto a table against the wall. This hole was bigger than the one on the opposite wall, and was a new addition. Apparently Moiraine was a few doors over, and some men were so happy with her performance that they wanted to get a better feel of her. So, they broke the wall and reshaped everyone’s hole. They didn’t even care to clean the concrete debris they left on the floors around her. Her feet were so used to it, she could walk on them without flinching anymore. If she weren’t on this table now, she’d jump on those stones and show them who was the queen of Andor.

“Hey!” a man called from outside.

A spike of panic pulsed through Elayne. She’d dallied. That was at least a few more hours added on to her 36. They never let her sleep during it either. Her lips trembled and she almost wanted to cry.

As she sat on her bottom and slid her legs and hips through the hole in the wall, she heard Nynaeve shouting outside. Most of the other Aes Sedai here had gone quiet by now, except Moiraine and Nynaeve. Moiraine had never made a noise in the first place, and Elayne was beginning to think the woman was warded against communicating with anyone. Good move on the Dark One’s part. The Aes Sedai here needed Moiraine planning, not Nynaeve’s incessant rebellion.

A man grabbed Elayne’s feet and forced them up and apart. She fell onto her back, and the man cuffed her ankles to the outside of the wall. Splayed open, Elayne could see between her legs out her room. The room opposite hers displayed another pair of raised feet, these kicking in futility against their cuffs. Nynaeve’s pussy was bare, an untidy mess of folds and a clitoral hood fit for a grandmother. It had been that way before being raped tens of thousands of times.

A hulking form—huffing and puffing like the monster it was—blocked Nynaeve from view, and in seconds, her rebellious screaming became screams of pain. The trolloc had entered her, holding onto her thighs that spread out on either sides of its hips like an advertising whore.

Another hulking form blocked the hallway and all light trickling in. The wetness of a cock the size of a small tree trunk pressed against Elayne's pussy.

It went in without a fuss. Elayne was stretched more than any whore had ever been, queen or not. The trolloc’s cock coming out was the trouble. It pulled back, and Elayne got pulled with it.

She winced, tearing sensations screaming up her crotch. Then ripping.

The first pull was always the worst.

It thrust again.

Pulled again, and tore less.

In a few more thrusts, getting fucked by the trolloc wasn’t any different from being fucked by Rand. Oh he was far smaller, and he didn’t make her bleed as profusely as this, but now her pussy was as ripped as it was going to get for today, and she’d soon feel nothing down there until her punishment time was over and they Healed her.

Then the pain would return, like being sown back together for hours, except it was all concentrated in an instant of mind-numbing, convulsion-inducing pain, and Elayne loved it. These trollocs couldn’t make her cum. Their backwards-hooked cocks tore her G-spot up every time, along with her ability to feel pain. But that return of pain, the ability to feel…

Elayne grew wet just thinking about it. She leaked pleasure fluids through her fucked up vagina and surprised herself. She was moaning as she was rocked, pushed and pulled by those barbs, aroused by the pain she would feel near forty hours from now—and she started cumming.

It was a slow thing. Trickles of confused sensations running through the mangled insides of her canal. But, the sensations that made it out came in bursts, sending twitches of intermittent pleasure through her limbs, fingers, and toes; up into her breasts, into her cheeks, into her soul; and it all slowly curled in on itself, body and soul, like a tightness that must constrict, constrict, constrict.

Her pussy was the first to blow. It contracted, too, gripping the barbs harder, arousing the trolloc to fuck her harder.

Next, drool leaked from her gaping mouth. And last, her tits began to lactate, thin near-translucent white fluid flowing out from her pink nipples in a neat stream until the contractions reached them, encouraging her spouts to spray. Her little breasts pointed straight up, so the milk rained upon her, and she kept her mouth open to it. Better she enjoyed some of her own fluids, compared to that daily bowl of cum they called food.

She was breathing heavily now, leaking from every end of her body, sensation coursing through every nerve like little worms violating her flesh where the men could never reach. She revelled in it, let it show her a good time, since she was sure that luck of orgasm by a trolloc would never happen again. As it pulled back and yanked her forward, she pouted, saddened that she’d not cum again for the next forty hours. Her pussy leaked a strange grey semen, and bled like someone had fucked her with a knife. But it was already starting to numb.

The trolloc dropped out of sight, and as it had gone down, Elayne caught a glimpse of its face. She hadn’t even known what man-animal breed had fucked her. She thought she knew every type—‘knew’ as in knew intimately—but this one looked… this one looked like a man with a Seanchan To’raken for a head.

It couldn’t be.

She had been fucked by a true dragon.

No wonder she came.

With that thought, her body took note of the sensations still travelling through her. She squirmed, embracing it a little more before it disappeared. That motion gave her a glimpse through her legs again.

Nynaeve had stopped fighting.

She always did so. She fought too hard, so passed out due to blood loss. She had to be Healed during punishment sessions, which tired her more, only making it worse for her. And Elayne. The stipulation today was that if Nynaeve didn’t comply again, Elayne was going to pay. But Nynaeve had no idea that Elayne had turned it around. She’d known Nynaeve was going to behave this way, she’d offered to punish Nynaeve herself if she did.

So, instead of more Trollocs taking them, Rand came and unbound Elayne. He lowered her legs, which were slightly numb, and dragged her out of the room.

Her legs were actually very numb. She crumpled into a bloody heap. Rand, reached down to her with a soulless, Dark look in his eye and when his skin touched hers, she stiffened in her blood, shivering, feeling her pussy reknit.

She came again.

While she swam on the spot, Rand lifted and righted her. She tried to stand, but had to lean on him. If he had a problem with a girl struggling to stand while flooded with sensation, well perhaps the Dragon Reborn’s brain was as small as his cock.

He shoved her towards Nynaeve’s exposed pussy. The girl’s small hips formed into a shapely ass, for what it was worth. All the harder it would be when Elayne showed her what it was like to get fucked over by a friend.

She reached into Nynaeve’s hip hole in the wall and stroked the girl’s hand. “Nynaeve? Nynaeve, are you okay?” She asked in her most loving voice.

Nynaeve stirred, struggling. “Heal… Don’t Heal… Just let me bleed.”

“Don’t give up on me now,” Elayne said sweetly. She wrapped her fingers around Nynaeve’s hand and the older woman reciprocated.

Elayne plunged her free fist into Nynaeve’s torn pussy, making her scream.

The Dragon Reborn flashed Elayne a look then, one not so cold and devoid of feeling as it had been. He smirked at her. Oh, she’d forgotten how handsome that smirk was. He liked how she punished, did he? Well, Elayne quite liked it, too.

She let go of Nynaeve’s hand and shoved a second fist in. When she heard a crack, she returned the Dragon Reborn’s smirk.

Chapter Text

Elayne and Moiraine hung from the roof by their arms and legs, spread open for the office to use. Elayne thought she’d earned his trust, but instead tried to convince him to unstill Nynaeve. “Erotic play like you’d never seen,” she’d promised. As if. Nynaeve knew how to unstill others, and that was an uprising waiting to happen. The White Glory Hole would stand. Rand did like the idea of bringing the girls out, though. Fucking them in those cooped up rooms was getting boring.

So Rand brought Moiraine, the best behaved, to a bank office in Tar Valon. The men here were under the most stress in the city, running the finances of the new world, and coming all the way to the White Glory Hole was affecting progress. That was why Rand brought Moiraine to them. She’d been strung up, fucked, and fiddled with for three days straight now—there was a night shift here—and that had done a number on her far worse than the year locked up. She just hung there, limply, slowly rocking back and forth.

The bank was doing great, though. The men were staying and working longer shifts. Moiraine hadn't gotten a break, and apparently had tried to close her eyes and chant calmly. That spooked the men and they'd beaten her until she stopped trying. Her beautiful pale skin was bruised black and blue. Elayne hung there, too, but she was only up there for a day. She still looked hopeful, compliant. Rand had brought her, letting her think that she’d won him over with that little show of fisting Nynaeve. She probably still believed that Rand had sent for Nynaeve to be brought here and unstilled.

So Elayne complied, doing as commanded and cleaning Moiraine up these last few days. That had comprised of obeying the every command of the staff, no matter how unreasonable—a story for another day—and lapping semen off Moiraine and the floor between shifts. She had to make a meal of it, too, for Rand was not around and the bank was too busy.

The women were not clean now, though. With Elayne tied up, they both looked like the cumdumps they were. Sticky, filthy, dripping. The last round of men must not have been here too long ago.

Nynaeve was finally carried in, and Elayne perked up.

But Rand had the wisdom strung up on the other side of Elayne.

“Rand…” Elayne said.

Rand silenced her with Air over her mouth. Then, he had the three fed gallons upon gallons of water. Elayne was the only one who bothered to struggle. He channeled the water down her throat, and extra at that. The water gargled and burbled up within her until she had a baby bump once again. Stuffed, they stared upwards blankly as their naked bodies swayed. A neat row of toys they were. So much symmetry. Bare breasts of increasing size and tan—from Moiraine to Nynaeve—lay flat on their chests. None of them were particularly endowed, though. Bodies of equal slenderness but increasing height. Pussies of increasing untidiness.

All waiting for him. This was the longest he’d gone without fucking them all year. That only made him want to elongate the time. Build it up. He could do other things with them, after all. Countless other things. Even watch. Six men waited behind him.

Rand stepped forward with a network of tubes and spread Moiraine's neat folds. Her little pink pee hole clenched. It would, considering how full her bladder must be. Their flat bellies were not so flat right now.

Rand shoved his tube up Moiraine's pee hole.

A muffled scream sounded at the back of the woman's throat as he wiggled and scraped the thing up into her until it hit the back of something. She didn't struggle. She didn't even look down at Rand. So he taped the tube in place and stuck the other end into Elayne's mouth.

His former beloved did look at him. Tired eyes looked down at where the tube was connected and widened mildly. Rand taped the tube in her mouth. That helped muffle her scream when he split her labia—not as neat as Moiraine's, but still pretty—and stuck a tube in.

"That will teach you to try and trick me, honey."

She mumbled through the tape, “That’s what this is about?”

“In part.” Rand fondly tapped her belly, and a trickle leaked down the tube. Before too much was lost, he took the other end of the tube to Nynaeve and pushed it between her lips.

"Just kill me," Nynaeve mumbled, closing her eyes as Rand taped her mouth closed.

She'd been this way ever since Elayne had fisted and broken her pelvis. Nynaeve had been healed, but the bone didn't set right. It could be seen as an asymmetry in her crotch area. Between her thighs, one side of the bone was higher than the other. It made her untidy pussy even worse. If a fresh rose was a normal vagina, Nynaeve's was a cluster of wilted lilies crumpled together and tossed aside. Now that cluster was stretched and looked even worse. Rand didn't even need to touch it to see her pee hole. He pushed a tube deep in there, but Nynaeve didn't scream. A tear just leaked from her closed eyes.

Rand almost felt bad.

He pushed the tube in deeper and taped it in. Time to close the circuit. He took that tube and walked all the way back to Moiraine, put it in her mouth, and taped those pretty lips closed.

Then he stepped back and observed his work. The three woman, Aes Sedai, hung, swaying, linked like never before. Piss holes to mouths. The scholars with their new discoveries would call it a closed circuit.

"Go on," Rand said.

The present office staff—six men who were on break right now—quivered with anticipation. They'd be excited, considering how unimaginative they and most of their colleagues were, just coming and fucking the gifts he gave them and going.

They crowded around the women, not knowing where to start. One chose to remain boring and just stuck his dick straight into Nynaeve—he had surely fucked the other two already. Nynaeve tensed, and her pee hole reflexively contracted to hold closed. When the man thrust though, she cried out. Whoever had healed her didn't do a good job. The pain must have been too much, because her valve opened and a golden stream flushed out, all the way through the tube, and went straight into Moiraine's mouth.

The pale Cairheinen gave little reaction, save for trying to open her mouth when it filled to bursting. The tape was too strong and she soon had to swallow. A man grabbed her by the waist, pressed in with his thumbs, and used his leverage to pull her into his dick. If that was not enough to trigger her flood, another man beside her pressed his palms to her back and stomach and pressed.

Moiraine's valve resisted. It looked more red now than pink, surely deeply irritated by the insertion, but still Moiraine held. Despite her state, she was still in there somewhere. But it wasn't enough. When the man kneaded his fist into her tummy all the way to her spine, Moiraine pissed, and it came out with more force than Nynaeve's. It traversed the tube to Elayne's mouth in a heartbeat.

Elayne had already been screaming. Men were still all over the fact that she had been a queen, so she always got the most attention. Three men groped her. They'd lowered her a little, so one could lie on the floor and take her from behind. The other double penetrated her from above. The third man placed his palms on her stomach and back. He squeezed, she burst and filled Nynaeve's crying face with urine. Her pee hole was far more irritated than the others, twitching like a maw trying to close. It had even swollen a little.

Rand smirked, watching his work. The now-golden tubes linked the woman with what seemed like two eights turned on their sides, one overlapping. This should be the new Aes Sedai ring. Never had there been one so elaborate. The Aes Sedai were enjoying it too. Just look how fast they were gulping down the flow that linked them. Their mouths were so full that their cheeks were puffed out, but that was besides the point.

At least Moiraine approved. Her eyes had gone from the calm of urinal release, to the curl of a smile. She moaned between swallows. Seeing that only made Nynaeve tear more and deepened the hopelessness in Elayne’s eyes.

When the men had their way and finished, they used the three toilets, made some jokes about Nynaeve’s folds, and went off back to work.

The women's piss was still flowing.

Rand walked up to Elayne. "I know about the man with the massive dick."

Elayne’s eyes widened. The expression morphed into sadness, remorse even. Too late for that. Rand punched her in the gut and her eyes near popped out of her skull. The gush from her pee hole grew so strong, he heard the WHIZZZ even through the tube. But Rand wasn't done. He punched Moiraine even harder, and watched as her flood filled Elayne's mouth violently. So violently that despite her massive gulps, the piss burst out her nose.

Hot as it was, that was a problem. A leak in the circuit.

So he held her nose closed instead.

Tears streamed from her eyes, but she knew she had to drink faster or die. She tried.

Rand punched Moiraine again. Elayne's gut clenching sobs made her pee more and Nynaeve began to leak through the nose, too.

That wouldn't do. Rand yanked the tube out of Nynaeve’s mouth and shoved it into Elayne's. Then he took the tube from Moiraine's mouth and shoved it into Elayne's pee hole. It wasn't easy pinching and stretching the hole's inflamed flesh to fit another tube. Elayne shouldn't be screaming and struggling, it was him putting in the effort.

That done, they were all now pissing into Elayne, one end or the other. His beloved was even peeing into her own mouth.

He punched the other two woman. They screamed, but their bellies finally began to deflate. Elayne, though, inflated more. Piss gushed out her nose and he held it shut. She swallowed and swallowed. He shoved his finger into her navel as if he were fucking it and on each thrust, the flood grew so strong that it pushed out of her nose despite his grip. The net effect was a slow deflation of her tummy, but that was fine. Watching his finger push into and out of that soft bulge was sending him towards a strokeless orgasm. He let himself cum in his pants, and as he did, he pushed her belly button harder and faster.

Elayne gulped and gulped, and her jaw hung limp but she gulped and gulped, and her nose leaked but she gulped and gulped, and then she began to trembled and shake and curl up like she did when cumming. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she stopped gulping. The flow was still strong enough to force itself down her throat, until Moiraine and Nynaeve deflated and their tubes went silent.

So Rand fucked her navel faster, setting her off shaking and trembling again. When her tummy flattened, the skin around her navel was red as blood, but he still pushed in deep. The woman was cumming and he had to oblige. She had been his betrothed, after all.

When her own stream ran out, she gasped, sucking the tape into her sealed mouth. Her frantic breaths made wet sounds as it found its way through her clogged nose.

She looked to Rand with some measure of composure and he gently circled her belly button with his finger. "Was that as satisfying as the big man, my love?"

She somehow managed to scowl and look like she wanted to cry at the same time.

Voices echoed behind Rand. This office had a huge staff and lots of meetings, stressful global negotiations, so people only took breaks when they could. After said meetings, They came here to unwind before the next. Rand rose and reconnected the women with the tubes. Then walked away.

Ten or so men bowed to him as they approached the women. "What in the..." one said.

"Guys... Let's get some water. If they drink a lot, what do you think will happen?"

Rand met Elayne's horrified eyes, smirked, and left.

Chapter Text

Elayne felt like a sac of potatoes. Her skin nothing but a bag to hold each of her bruised body parts together. Her muscles nothing but softness for the transporters to take turns fondling and testing how well it could withstand impact.

Her bones nothing but dead weight. For she could not move anymore. Oh, she was not paralysed. She could feel it all. Rand had told that office to have their fun and hurt her without hurting her. Anything short of requiring healing. He wanted her to feel.

And she felt. She lay on her back, naked on poky hay. Each straw was like a needle to her battered flesh, especially her bum because her transporter's garden boy was sitting on her hips and riding her like his desperate ugly self must ride sheep.

Elayne didn't have tears to cry, even as the fool dug at her navel like there was gold to find. She just took the pounding and digging like the sac of potatoes she was.

And, like a sac of potatoes, she was relegated to a corner, and was not the focus of the meal.

They were on a tour riding south, visiting all the villages on the way to Emond's Field, and Nynaeve was the main showpiece.

All these men had access to the White Glory Hole via gateway, of course--only Emond's Field didn't since they were Lightfriends; the only gathering of Lightfriends Rand didn't eradicate. But they eagerly took Nynaeve down from her wagon hay-bed and fucked her in their backyard. It was shocking the resentment they had for her even though she wasn’t even their village Wisdom. The closer they got to Emond’s Field, the more Healing she needed from Rand to continue. They had fucked her half near to death back in Taren Ferry. Apparently her influence on their Women’s Circle was still suffered by the men till this day. Oh how they enjoyed her tears. After everything Elayne had seen and done, it still disturbed her. Like wolves ripping apart a helpless rabbit.

Elayne shivered, and the hideous man atop her grinned, thinking he’d made her cum.

“I knew you liked that,” he said as he filled her up. He collapsed on her, sending shocks of excruciating pain through her body. That hay was the Dark One’s own claws. Her breasts hurt under his weight, too. They had nail marks, bite marks, stretch marks, bruises from slaps and punches. She thought they really would tear them off last night.

Their fear of defying Rand’s order was likely the only reason she still had breasts.

“Oh no,” the ugly said as he got up. “How will you remember me if it all leaks out?” He pushed his semen back into her pussy, grabbed some straw, and shoved it into her as a plug. “There.” He patted her crotch, shoved once more for good measure, and jumped off the wagon to go get his chance with Nynaeve.

He was too late, though. They were already rolling past empty farms. They’d arrived. Emond’s Field. All its people would be gathered in the town’s centre, so Nynaeve would have to be prepared. Rand in his red coat with gold trimmings hopped up the back of the open wagon where Nynaeve lay naked and Healed her. Her body went taught, everything from her neck to her toes going taut as her cuts and bruises reknit. Lucidity returned, too, and she began to weep.

Elayne had thought Nynaeve broken. No, she was not as gone as Moiraine had been in that office. She was in there. She had just had no energy to keep up her guards. After a year of holding up a shield, an arm would start to fall and the shield with it. The human will fatigued like a muscle.

“Get her mounting,” Rand ordered Ugly.

“Yes, sir,” Ugly walked off, sad.

If you wanted to fuck Nynaeve so badly, why did you waste your time pumping your filth into me?

Elayne felt bad as she thought it, but feeling bad was just the remnants of the queen within who had voluntarily drank the semen of these men to earn their loyalty. She had toured much like this during her campaign, but these men seem to have forgotten. Darkfriends conveniently forgot such things.

In fact, most of the villages around the Two Rivers these last few days hadn’t bothered with her, even though the former queen of Andor lay naked out in the open in the back of a wagon. Flies and mosquitoes had enjoyed her presence instead, and one dog. She couldn’t even swat them away.

You will not cry.

They rolled into the centre of town and as they turned and parked her wagon, she could see a massive crowd gathered. They were a ragged people, just barely alive. They got no help from the world, but the world used them for resources. They were Lightfriends living at a net loss that would kill them eventually, but they were not dead yet.

Rand lifted Nynaeve to her naked knees, and her weeping eyes widened as she made eye contact with person after person. Elayne didn’t recognise anyone, but Nynaeve certainly did. Rand, too. He waved at them—while keeping a limp Nynaeve up on her knees with his other arm—as if this were a welcome homecoming.

The people did not give in and return the greeting.

Rand scowled. Suppressed it. Smiled.

Ugly brought the thing Rand had asked for. Nynaeve’s ‘mounting’. It was a slim wooden structure that looked like scaffolding, but was open in the back and had a plate of glass in the front with an oval cut out of it.

“Take it to the centre of the village,” Rand said.

It was light enough for Ugly to lift and carry to the raised platform. Bonfires were likely supposed to burn there, or gleeman were likely supposed to tell their tales there. But now, Rand carried to her ‘mounting’, helped her to stand behind it, and guided her in. She fit in snugly, her hips and shoulders just a little wider than the structure. But the joining planks were positioned out of the way, clearly designed for a woman’s figure.

Emond’s field did not share the dangerously ravenous atmosphere of the other villages, but Elayne caught the men’s eyes lingering on the nude form of their former village Wisdom. Nynaeve was a wilder so had stopped aging quite early. She didn't have the filling out a girl experienced in her twenties, but she was naturally tall and had some form despite being otherwise slight.

Her southern folds did stand out like a sore thumb, though, even at a distance, and so did that one inverted nipple. Then again, some men liked such quirks. Many would say Elayne was otherwise perfect, and here she was naked and ignored by hundreds of men. Someone’s horse was sniffing at her toes at the end of the wagon and looking up between her legs. Good thing it was tied and couldn’t reach further.

Over in the centre, Nynaeve was struggling to stand. Poor thing must be exhausted after that Healing. That was more tiring than the endless rape. Rand called for rope. He tied one end of the rope to a rear plank on the mounting, passed the rope through Nynaeve’s legs, and tied the other end to a plank in the front. This time when Nynaeve’s legs gave way, the bridge of rope caught her by the pussy, and instead of cringing, she just looked like she wanted to cry again.

Rand gripped the glass panel on the front and put some weight onto it. It slid down to Nynaeve’s chest height. Rand got behind the mounting and shoved her by her back, pressing her chest to the panel. The skin of her shoulders and ribs pressed against the glass, but her breasts hung out of the oval cutout portion.

Rand hinged a bar down behind her, locking her in place.

“There we go,” Rand said. “The tap is almost ready.”

Tap?

The word passed around the crowd, and they actually perked up. It seemed an innocent liveliness, though. These people were struggling with resources. A tap in the middle of town would drastically improve their standard of living.

“Men,” Rand said. “You reached out and asked the Dragon Reborn to help in this time of drought. The dried up rivers are only just enough for your farms, but your women need water, too. For drink, for wash, and to nurse their babes at their teat.”

The crowd perked up further.

“Well, you hold the key to your survival within yourself, Emond’s Fielders. As you always have. Let me show you! Men, come forward!”

The crowd went silent.

“Men!” Rand said sternly.

He was still ignored.

“Well, that’s okay. See, you keep me humble. I always have to put my best foot forward here. That’s why I had put the work in over the last few days to gather the irrigation your people need.”

Ugly dragged a circular tub from behind the horse that was sucking Elayne’s toes. Dragging it took ages, so Rand pulled it with Air, lifted it, and set it down beside Nynaeve.

“Since our men are incapable of providing anymore,” Rand said, “can I ask all women to step forward? I will see to it that none of you goes thirsty.”

The men finally stepped forward, but defensively in front of the others. Rand sighed and like toys, he grabbed every boy and man with Air and placed them apart from the women. There were struggles, but they were futile, and Rand silenced their protests by blocking their mouths.

Visibly terrified, some woman stepped forward. First the courageous ones around their twenties. Followed by the desperate ones—pregnant women and women with young babes—followed by the middle-aged, who now served as the defensive line for the youngest girls and the elderly.

“Great!” Rand said, and took the front most lady by the shoulders. She looked a lot like Egwene had. He guided her to Nynaeve, and left her facing the former Wisdom. Then, he pulled back the tarp covering the large circular tub.

Instantly, the girl who looked like Egwene dry heaved. The reflex passed through the women as the scent carried. It reached Elayne, and she felt disgraced that her body didn’t so much as falter her breathing at the scent of rotting semen. In fact, it smelled better than usual, since this was only a few days old, likely collected from the men as they raped Nynaeve throughout their tour of the nearby towns. Semen in their White Glory Hole rooms stained the walls for months. Fresh baths of the stuff didn’t completely wash away the old—

The horse bit Elayne’s foot. She winced and tried to kick, but of course, her legs were too battered to function. Luckily, the horse wasn’t grinding her foot in two, it was more prodding. An exploration that allowed it to reach and lick more of her feet than her toes.

She found that she didn’t really mind. It made her feel like less of a bag of potatoes.

Whatever she was, Nynaeve was still the main course. Rand held a glass tube now. It had a needle on end and a plunger on the other. He stuck the needle into the pool of white and yellow semen and pulled the plunger. The fluid rushed in to fill the tube.

“Now, ladies! You will never go thirsty again. Hydration is but one call away. How, you ask? Well, Elisa here has volunteered to demonstrate!”

Elisa. One of Egwene’s older sisters.

Rand, how could you? Wasn’t this girl like an older sister to you? Weren’t all these women something to you? All these men?

Elisa stepped back, but was stopped by an invisible wall. She held her hands tight to her bosom.

“There’s no need to fear,” Rand said as he casually stuck the needle into Nynaeve’s breast. Nynaeve inhaled sharply, but her soft weep just continued, resigned to what she knew would come her way no matter what she did.

Elisa and the other women gasped, some feinted on the spot.

“Go, wake them up,” Rand told ugly.

Ugly grinned as he turned his sights on the ladies of Emond’s Field. They huddled around their fallen, but when Rand pointed an open palm at Elisa, they reluctantly let Ugly through to try and fondle girls awake.

“This is how your tap works!” Rand explained. He pressed on the plunger, and pushed at the creamy fluid inside in turn. Nynaeve’s lips parted, and the injected breast inflamed. The gentle curve beneath grew more severe, and the top side that gravity flattened grew rounded. He hooked the tube on the side of the mounting, and cupped that breast with his hand. “You open the tap like so!”

He pressed down onto Nynaeve’s breast, and her inverted nipple popped out. Nynaeve wept louder, and white bubbles formed around her areola and atop the tip of her nipple.

“Well, I suppose this form of water is a little thick.”

He squeezed her like a furious man clenching his fist.

Nynaeve screamed and semen sprayed from her nipple in all directions. Still squeezing, Rand stepped out of the way and let the liquid spray onto a frozen Elisa's face..

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Rand asked her, pinching the nipple tip so a direct jet hit Elisa in the eyes.

She didn’t move. One would think she’d been beaten like Elayne had. Rand grabbed Egwene’s sister with Air and shoved her. Her face bounced off Nynaeve’s chest.

“Drink!” Rand said. “You were always bossing us around, telling us what was good for us. Well, now I say what’s good for who, and you’re looking rather frail. Drink!”

She shivered. Likely couldn’t obey if she wanted to. Rand just used Air to press her lips tight around Nynaeve’s nipple. And then he squeezed. Nynaeve's cry echoed and Elise dry heaved over and over. Rand held her in place. Her mouth collected enough to puff her cheeks, cause some to leak out the sides, and force her to swallow. Her coughs saw the semen drip out her nose, too. Rand pumped relentlessly, emptying Nynaeve’s breast into Elise's mouth before detaching the coughing woman. A little white stream dripped from the tip of Nynaeve's nipple and down the underside. That breast was back to normal, but it and its nipple just looked, fuller somehow. More mature. Ready.

Finally Rand let Elise go, carrying the coughing woman away. He left her alone on the other side of the gathering as he drew more semen into his tube and injected it into Nynaeve. This time he didn't just inject from one spot. He put a little on the sides, top, under, evenly distributing the loads within—much to Nynaeve's discomfort, because each movement required Rand to pull out and reinject. Pricks of blood formed in some places where he pulled out. He filled both her breasts this time before calling Ugly to do the squeezing.

The fool squeezed before the next drinker arrived. The fountains from both breasts had an artistic feel to it, especially when he twisted and sent it all this way and that. In a twisted kingdom, this would be a spectacular act for a queen. If he were twisted… of course.

Rand brought the next two women up and had to press their lips to the teats by force, too. They also looked like Egwene. Ugly squeezed a breastful of semen into them both and Rand used Air to lay them down beside Elise. She’d fainted at some point. Several women did through the process that followed, but Rand pressed their unconscious lips to Nynaeve’s nipples and made them drink. She screamed every. Single. Time Ugly squeezed her and her pain resonated in Elayne’s injuries. It resonated even more when the horse grabbed Elayne by the foot, yanked her closer. The hay scraped her back, the horse bit away the hay in her pussy, and a massive—satisfying—length slid straight right up into her

She moaned. The girth was no match for the mister she once had, but this length. It coiled up in her with such force, it bulged her belly, stretching her bruised abdominal muscles. But she moaned. If not from the pleasure, if not from the mass rising and falling atop her, crushing her, then from the attention. Bags of potatoes didn’t get attention. She was one of the lucky ones.

And she got to watch Nynaeve while getting fucked. It brought back memories of seeing Nynaeve fight back at the Glory Hole despite knowing Elayne would get punished for the insolence. It lit a fire in Elayne’s loins, to be the one getting fucked while Nynaeve got fucked over. Nynaeve's flapping excuses of pussy folds were getting ground down by the thin rope that served as her seat. Rand was bringing women to Nynaeve so fast now that he was constantly refilling his tube and injecting the semen into her taps. Many pricks of blood dripped from the poked flesh. Ugly relentlessly pumped her cum squirters, helping Nynaeve breastfeed all the Emond’s Field women with the spoiled semen of neighbouring Darkfriend towns. By time the hundreds of women had been irrigated, Nynaeve’s bosom looked expansive and perky. But only a third of the semen tub had been consumed.

Rand injected that into Nynaeve to feed the men. They each got two breastfuls, and he injected so much per breast now, she was screaming before the squeezing. The men needed to be forced, though some looked happy about the lips to nipple part and only protested when the semen started to flow.

Nynaeve's breasts filled, and drained, inflated, and drained. As the tub neared its end, her bosom was not looking so expansive anymore. They sagged. Folds wrinkled her armpits. Her nipples were larger and more oval than round. Her inverted nipple retreated back in, now shriveled. The countless pricks made for a bloody mess. It all added up to a strange sight on the otherwise youthful body, much like her pussy folds. But, best of all, her screams turned back to tears.

Elayne came. Violent contractions that curled her toes and squeezed the gigantic dick within her. The beast neighed and spurted hot fluid that burst at her seams with loud squishes. Her contractions themselves were enough to pump the length, setting the monster bucking and bucking until is slipped out of her and sat, folding its legs and lowering its head.

Elayne just lay there, legs hanging off the wagon, letting the tremors course through her veins, the aftershock to a long awaited quake. Oh how she loved the feeling of that warmth flowing out from her and down her legs. No sac of potatoes now, she thought as she turned to look at Nynaeve who had become nothing short of an elaborate cup.

They were fucking her.

The men of Emond’s field were fucking Nynaeve!

And Elayne had been excited about getting raped by a flaming horse! Burn you, Nynaeve! Burn you, Rand!

Ugly emerged from the throng. “Aw. You feeling lonely?”

Elayne closed her eyes, but she couldn’t help but pout and nod.

“Don’t worry,” he said, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder and pressing his cock to her womanhood. “I see my buddy here got you all lubed up. I’ll keep you company.”

Into her he went.

And Elayne welcomed the shame of being happy about the company despite the fact that the most hideous man in Andor was fucking her while every man in the Two Rivers and some women were fighting for a piece of Nynaeve.

Burn her!

Chapter Text

"Rand," Elisa said. "Is there anything we can do so Emond's Field gets regular water? I don't think Nynaeve can go on like this much longer."

They'd be surprised. Nynaeve had not yet broken. Instead of breaking and finding a way to cope, she still held together, softly weeping. All while the Emond's Fielders had fallen into routine, injecting her taps and suckling them without him guiding them. More and more were taking the opportunity afterwards to fuck her, too. Once, they'd even remounted her for a drink after the fucking and forgotten her outside overnight. Apparently, no one had known whether everyone was done, so they'd just left taking her down to someone else. They'd found her in the morning barely conscious, her breasts starting to rot and reek like the cum they'd left inside. Healing that had drained him, like Healing limbs that were almost amputated.

A bunch of flaming fools, harming my glory hole.

As for Elisa and her three sisters, they pulled Rand aside to talk. They were pretty, in the average farmer girl sense. Homely. Their shaky smiles were commendable, but didn't quite achieve the pacifism they were hoping for.

So Elisa rubbed his cock through his pants. "We'll make it worth your while... Dragon."

Homely didn't do too well at seductive. But it was commendable enough to score his erection, so he silently let her keep going until she knew who controlled the tempo here. When her face showed realisation that awkwardness and noncommittal were not enough, he actually got the impression of some passion from her hand.

"Tell you what," Rand said, slipping her small hand into his pants and around his dick--she eeked, but kept going, almost hiding her grimace. "Emond's Field is a bit much for Nynaeve. I'll take her down. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

They didn't even think to hide their anxiousness now that they'd successfully persuaded him. Oh well.

He let Elise stroke him near to his edge--and not any further-- gave each of her sisters a chance to do the same, then sent them all scampering off. He returned to pick them up from her house the following day. The four sisters greeted him at the door, already naked. It was marvelous to see how their bodies scaled so perfectly in proportion based on age. Egwene would have been just a bit smaller than Loise. Elisa was just right, and her older sisters, Alene and Berowyn, had long flowing curves. Even their crotches got bushier with age, and since Egwene had always shaven for their childish experimentations, she'd fit right in. Unfortunate she wasn't here to complete the set. Unfortunate one of his biggest dissenters didn't live to service the White Glory Hole.

"Come on in," Elisa said, nervously glancing to her sisters.

"Oh no," Rand said. It's much too small in here. The village centre is fine, no reason to change location."

"Huh?"

The village was thirsty, and Rand had other work to be about in Caemlyn. So he grabbed the sisters with Air and hauled them--naked, kicking and screaming--into the village where instead of one, were four mountings.

He fixed them in, and they stopped struggling when they realised they couldn't move an inch, except to rest their legs by leaning their vaginas onto the string between their legs. The Flame of Tar Valon would be proud to see her sisters ascend this hill, bosoms hanging out the glass holes, ready to provide to Emond's Field.

The Flames of Emond's Field cried for their mother and father, who Rand had to hold with the Power. Marin and Bran watched in horror as their own thirsty villagers came up and took the syringes, eyes set on their naked daughters’ breasts.

"I've taken Nynaeve down," Rand told the girls, pushing Nynaeve to her knees and instructing her to suck his cock. She obligingly untied his pants and ate his dick. "Fulfil your promise and make it worth my while girls."

They looked at him, pleading in their teary eyes. He made their vaginal seat string more taut and turned those pleading looks into winces. A bead of wetness ran down Elisa's thigh. It was red, but it was wetness nonetheless. The villagers uncovered today's tub, and though everyone had grown used to the stench of turning cum, this tub set off gags anew. He'd been in a hurry so yesterday he'd gatewayed north for Trolloc sperm. It was already curdling today, a broiling viscous mess of cream and yellow, like raw eggs rotting in the sun with drowned flies floating at the top.

Syringes filled. Needles injected. al’Vere’s screamed. Breasts inflated and nipples tried to leak the too-thick fluid.

But thirst make people desperate and viscious. Their hands became twisting vices upon the bulbous faucets. Throbbing nipples widened, puckered, puffed until finally, drink came like whizzing geysers in a desert which mouths covered and sucked, not to waste a single drop. Loise--smallest breasts and nipples of the lot--was the last to ejaculate and first to finish. Everyone needed multiple drinks from her, so her little chest quickly became a nest of dozens of red pin pricks. Her size meant she wasn't easy to twist like her sisters, so villagers resolved to pressing on her like her ribcage were a table on which to flatten waterskins against. That winded her over and over to the point where she spent more time wheezing, rather than joining into the ear-piercing screeches from the other al'Vere girls.

At their sound, Nynaeve sucked him harder, and Rand gently placed his hands on her head. He stroked the hard worker's hair.

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she started to slurp and throat.

"You ready to go to Caemlyn?" He asked her while forcing Marin and Bran to inject and drink. "Go thank the al'Vere sisters for this vacation."

Ug UG ug UG ug, she kept blowing him, and looked up questioningly as if afraid to leave him unfinished.

"I haven’t had sex since I discovered the power of anticipation. I'm saving that finish." He stroked her bobbing head. "It would be wasted on you."

Her gaze lowered and she stopped sucking. Perhaps he was too frank. Her pain at that, though, meant she wasn't as unbroken as he'd thought. It must be the compassionate head pats.

Well, it would be interesting to see how far he could take that before giving her a reality check.

She was shivering, so he wrapped his red jacket around her shoulders, then hooked a gentle finger beneath her chin. "Go on. I want you to fill and squeeze out your own drink from them. One entire breast, from each sister."

She stumbled up to the hill and stood in line, wearing nothing but his jacket.

People in the line spanked and pinched her, but let her pass. She took a syringe from Marin’s shaking hands, filled it, and didn't look at Elisa as she drove it into the screaming woman's breast. A second syringe was needed to fill the girl up, and Nynaeve knew it without having to be told.

While she drained the teat, Rand moved Bran to his oldest—and prettiest—daughter and made him fill her up. Men needed two jugs at least. Bran cried, too, as his lips pressed to her areola and he drank.

Nynaeve was far faster than him. She’d finished drinking from the other three and injected Berowyn’s second breast, which required three full syringes. Each injection made Nynaeve flinch, but eventually, she and Bran were suckling Berowyn together.

It wasn't a race, but Nynaeve's side was deflating faster.

"You've got to massage it!" Rand called. He made Bran's hands grasp the breast. It took some effort, the big man was resisting. But it made his hand lock down like a clamp when Rand's Air inevitably won the battle.

"Dad!" Berowyn screamed as her swollen breast bulged out between his thick fingers. Rand drove those into a pumping rhythm. From all the way across the hill, Rand could hear the cum whizz whizz WHIZZ from her nipple, even though Bran's mouth covered it.

"I'm sorry, my girl," Bran gargled out between his sobs.

Why was he sorry? He needed water, and she was feeding him. Some teaching of appreciation was in order. Rand pulled Bran's head back. His mouth popped off his daughter's skin, but his hands squeezed tighter. The whizzing grew louder, and the numerous jets from around the areola and tip erupted on his face. Most of her ejections sprayed elsewhere, though. To the sides, messing Nynaeve. Up, like a fountain. Or down, wasting away on the ground and earning Bran angry sounds from the thirsty crowd. Each time his hands relaxed, the jets turned into little beads of cream-yellow until the next squeeze forced them out. To drive his point home, Rand made Marin refill Bronwyn's tits up to such capacity, they leaked and blue veins showed beneath the bosom surface. When each of her breasts swelled to a size larger than her father's head, Rand made her  mother hit the plunger once more, then he smashed Bran's face back into the nipple.

Some semen still leaked down her boobs, because her areola were now bigger than Nynaeve and Bran's mouths. Fresh pink stretch marks ran like fire down to her ribs.

Marin stroked Bronwyn's hair as if her daughter hadn't herself promised to make Nynaeve's leave worth Rand's time. She needed to learn a lesson, too. So Rand positioned her behind Berowyn's mounting, made her grab the taps from behind, and put her little hands to work milking her daughter like a cum cow. Feeding people was Marin's specialty, after all. When Bran was done, two people suckled at that nipple, and Rand positioned Bran behind Elisa, putting him to work. He proficiently emptied those smaller breasts into thirsty mouths. Rand put Elisa's husband--who didn't put up as much of a fight as his words suggested--to pumping her little sister Loise, and found one of Bran's gardeners to keep Alene's juices flowing.

Best to keep it in the family. Rand didn't want anyone to hurt the girls. He tied off those weaves of Air so that they'd only end once the feeding was done.

After having sucked a breastful of rotting cum from all four al'Vere sisters, Nynaeve returned to Rand, wiping her wet lips. He put and arm around her shoulders and led her to the wagons. He helped her up into Elayne's wagon, where the blonde woman was being ploughed by the hideously ugly driver and two of his midget friends.

One looked at Nynaeve hungrily, then to Rand.

Her reality check was going to come sooner than expected. "Yeah, sure," Rand said.

Nynaeve's eyes widened, then her head lowered. She lay back onto the hay and opened her legs.

The midget--and even Ugly--grimaced at the sight of her pussy. For some reason, Elayne smirked at that. Rand had no idea why, because it didn't stop the midget from shoving his regular sized cock into Nynaeve and pounding her.

Rand set up everything he needed for the trip to Caemlym, and by time he was done, the al’Vere sisters were getting fucked silly. Bran's gardeners took the opportunity to finally fuck the boss' daughter. The lot of them took Loise, the youngest, while the older men of the village went for the older girls, Alene and Berowyn. Another group held Bran down, laughing as they lowered Elisa onto his cock.

"No!" she cried. "No, no, Daddy why are you hard?"

Into her he went, and the men rocked her hips upon it. Marin pushed her way to the girls, and ended up getting herself stripped and ravaged beside her daughters. She had an attractive body for her age, and Elisa's husband voluntarily buried his dick into it. Berowyn's husband joined him.

The pitch of Elisa's scream startled even Rand when her father came in her.

"I'm sorry, my girl," he said, crying as they threw Elisa--panicing and trying to scoop semen out of herself--into the gang of gardeners and brought little Loise to sit on her father. He spilled himself in her, too, and his two remaining daughters, but had been too drained to finish again by time they brought Marin to him. Bran clearly knew how it looked, for he got up and fucked Marin in clear view of his daughters and fellow villagers. She just cried, on her knees, head tucked into folded arms on the ground. Her girls were positioned like her, forming a circle of doggy-styled al'Vere women. They were so close, their heads hit each other as men thrusted into them. A puddle formed between them from their wildly-waggling, still-leaking tits. Their formation amplified their moans, a symphony of similar voices of varying timbres. And a beautiful piece of human art was created when the 5 women got their upper bodies raised by pulling their arms. Their backs arched and their dripping chests were pushed together as they were fucked of their knees. Someone threw Bran off and took his place, but the man still made a pointed effort to try and get himself off to his wife, even if someone else was fucking her. 

Rand shook his head. He didn't realise he'd stopped to enjoy the show. He didn't need to supervise here. Already most of the village was trying to get in on the action, and the rest were too scared of Rand. They’d all be Darkfriends yet.

"I'm taking you home," Rand told Elayne. "Aren't you excited?"

Her response was just a few louder-than-normal GLURGs. What did he expect? It was hard to talk while the centre of a spitroast.

Chapter Text

In her wagon, dicks in her mouth, pussy, and ass, Elayne was carted through Caemlyn's sprawling streets up to the Palace. She got to see little but Ugly's smelly crotch in her face, of course, but she did see large crowds in her peripherals cheering Ugly and his midget friends to give it to her harder. They did, and she fell atop Nynaeve, who had been under her, sucking her tits and massaging Ugly's balls.

It was like that, moaning and gurgling, that she realised her mother was alive.

Morgase Trackand sat on the far end of the throne room, one long, naked leg crossed over the other. She did not sit on the throne, though, but on the stairs leading up to it. Her fingers knitted together primly atop unfairly full thighs, which made her arms push out her equally full bosom. Her golden curls were tied up to expose her slender neck. With Morgase's shoulders pulled back, back straight, and pretty nose turned up, Elayne felt like a child again in the presence of a real woman.

"Ma-tha," Elayne burbled around the cock in her mouth.

Morgase smiled a motherly smile. But her eyes tracked behind Elayne. Rand.

He gatewayed in, slapped Elayne's ass, told Ugly and his friends to finish up, and approached Morgase.

Elayne's mother got onto her knees—without standing up—stuck her tongue out, and eagerly reached for his pants as he ascended the stairs.

No... Elayne knew that both her and her mother had sucked every cock in Andor to earn their coronation as queen, so had certainly shared a cock before. But this was her betrothed… It made bile rise in Elayne’s throat, the acts that must have occurred for her mother to look this disappointed as Rand batted her hands away, continued to the throne, and sat.

Morgase might have scowled for a second, which made Elayne a little happy, but her fucking got rough right that instant.

"Not today?" Morgase asked.

"Today," Rand said. "Do not worry."

Rand relaxed into the seat like that man once had, the man with the incredible dick. Sometimes Elayne wondered whether any of this would have happened had she remained faithful. Had she not sought that dick out after her campaign for the throne. Had she doomed Rand and the world to this darkness?

GLUG! Elayne's croak filled the room, reverberating off the walls as Ugly took her by the hair. Ugk. Ug. Ugk. Ug. Ugk. Ug ug ug ug UGK!

It was hard to think with a cock trying to stab your brain. Something terrible made it even harder—spitroasting her wasn’t enough, double penetrating her pelvis wasn’t enough. One of the midgets shoved his finger into her peehole. Before the scream formed, Ugly pushed his penis deeper into her throat. And then the midget inserted a second digit in there and fingered it harder than his dick fucked her pussy. Pee fell onto Nynaeve from the open hole, and try as Elayne might to clench her lower body, the embarrassment continued. Her mother could see this! Tightening up made both midgets more excited, and a third digit entered her pisser. It felt like there were more intrusions in her hips than actual hips. Her scream escaped despite the obstruction, and tears rolled down her face. Ugly looked down and smiled into her pain-widened eyes, grabbed her head like an insignificant ball, and thrust thrust THRUST.

Finally, he pushed her lips all the way down into his unwashed pubes and came. The midget in her ass groaned and bucked, and the one in her vagina pulled out and replaced his fingers in her peehole with his dick.

They filled her screaming body up, still fucking it like it were a doll, rather than a human with feelings. She felt like a doll, for the sounds her body most of the time with squishes and glurgs rather than any words. And now her mother had seen what the daughter-heir had become. She stopped fighting it. Just took their thrusts and semen, making the oohs and aahs they liked so they’d finish faster.

Out of breath, she dropped, landing cheek to cheek with Nynaeve. She could feel the men’s fluids leak out of her bottom onto the woman below.

"Sorry," Elayne whispered, feeling bad as she lay on the other woman's soft body. Nyneave must be in so much pain, lying on that poky hay with Elayne's weight atop her.

The midgets pulled out of Elayne, and Nynaeve winced as they started fucking her. Those things were little demons that could fuck endlessly. The only break Elayne got on this trip to Caemlym was when they ravaged Nynaeve. It was those breaks they gave each other that had helped repair their broken relationship. If only that repair didn't mean they'd both get fucked continuously for weeks, even while asleep, not to mention all the villages and cities that made use of them along the way. It was hard to imagine what it was like not having cocks in her body, even when empty like she was now.

It was a relief when one of the midgets pushed his fist into her peehole. It hurt, oh Light it hurt, but she was thankful it was not as big as a certain man's cock. Oh why couldn't Rand let that man fuck her endlessly?

Stop it Elayne, you little bitch!

Invisible arms grabbed Elayne and lifted her. The Midget's arm came out of her with a pop, and she was carried across the room. Her peehole burned, so she pressed her hand to it and clamped her thighs as she was lowered beside her mother.

"I see you let a man take the throne after all," someone else said. A man stood before both kneeling former queens. His arms were tied behind his back, but that slab of a cock hanging down between his legs... hard, but so heavy, it still fell.

It was him. Elayne flushed.

"Whore," Rand said from the throne.

But Elayne just gawked. Rubbed her thighs together. Salivated, through mouth and burning pussy.

A slice of air rushed past the man and severed his glorious cock from his body.

Elayne screamed louder than the man, and she dove, catching the slab of meat.

"Whore!" Morgase said, catching the man instead.

Elayne cradled the deflating cock and stared up at her mother. A woman superior to her in every way; more caring, more beautiful, more queenly. Then, Elayne looked down at the thing in her own arms. Yes, Elayne was just a cock loving whore. She betrayed Rand. She delivered the Light's only hope over to the Dark.

"I'm sorry," Elayne said, tears rolling down her cheeks. She put the flaccid--yet still massive--dick down and in fetal position, began to cry. "I'm sorry, Rand. It was just so big--"

"It is," Rand said. The dick began to reinflate, Air filling it instead of the blood that now covered Elayne.

Burn her slut pussy for beginning to drip.

"A sorry whore is still a whore," Rand said, and pulled the cock away from Elayne's reaching fingers. He tossed the other man aside, who had mostly bled out already, and lifted both Elayne and Morgase. Then he lowered them both--facing each other--onto his lap.

Elayne felt sick. Her legs were tangled with her mother's in scissor position in her betrothed’s lap. With her mister's severed cock between them.

Morgase did not seem to share Elayne's disgust. She seemed eager, and looked to Rand as if to say, 'if this is how you want to do it, fine.'

Rand brought both women closer, and the cock’s head--pale from a lack of blood but swollen nonetheless--pressed against her mother's golden pubes. The severed end and its cleanly sliced flesh pressed against Elayne's.

A scream formed at the back of her throat.

This was so wrong. Why hadn’t she just earned her throne and stayed loyal to Rand? Why had she sought that man out after? Why did her pussy still leak for this now-useless piece of meat?

Because Elayne Trakand was a sick, cock loving whore, a slut who deserved to be punished, a first rate bitch.

"Whoever makes the other cum first," Rand said, "Will rule Caemlyn."

He wasn't serious. He couldn't be. Punishment she deserved, but making her mother cum? Morgase would never agree—

Morgase grabbed the pale cock--her small hand barely went around it--and scooted her pussy against it. She winced as it failed to enter her. But why did she look so determined? Why did it look like she had been waiting for this chance Rand offered? Holding herself up on the throne's armrest, Morgase thrust her hips forward.

Instead of the head going into her, the severed end--the thicker base of the cock--got pushed at Elayne, and it sloppily went straight up her loose snatch.

Only a small part of her registered her mother's surprise, because more than anything, Elayne was overcome by sheer and utter disappointment.

What did she expect? This cock to stretch her now the way it did the little girl cheating on her betrothed? Elayne had a neat pussy, yes, but that was only relative to Nynaeve. All that fucking had done a number on her womanhood, and her hanging folds was symbolic off her looseness.

Her own mother's folds looked like a babe's compared to hers. And that was symbolic of Morgase’s preserved tightness, for she screamed as she finally managed to fit the cock in.

She immediately began to try riding it, but it stayed in place within her and slopped in and out of Elayne instead.

Morgase pouted like a girl, grabbed the cock, and pushed it against Elayne’s peehole.

No!

Rand locked Elayne in place as she tried to escape, and Morgase thrust. Elayne gasped, mouth wide open in pain. Stretching. It was going to tear!

Elayne struggled, and Rand twisted her arms behind her back so hard, she thought her shoulders were going to tear.

Thrust! Went Morgase again, and the cock went into Elayne a centimetre deep. But thanks to that resistance, it shoved deeper into her mother, who moaned loudly each time she pushed the cock into herself, each time she pushed that massive girth deeper into Elayne’s pisser. The little pee she had remaining leaked out and lubed the cock, letting it slip all the way up Elayne’s urethra.

Her eyes lulled to the back of her skull for a second, but she held onto lucidity. She came to only to experience mind shattering pain. Her peehole wasn’t something to be fucked! This cock was the last thing she wanted in there. She hated this cock! Why was her mother doing this to her?

Morgase gyrated her hips like Elayne herself would do when brought near climax.

Elayne was far from climax, especially with that cock fucking with the wrong end in the wrong hole. How much punishment did she deserve? She was watching a dick that had intimately known her own depths fill her mother. And her mother seemed to have been so taken by it, that she didn’t care about her daughter’s agony, didn’t even remember that she was supposed to be making Elayne cum.

Elayne didn't blame her. It had been a magnificent cock. Morgase lay back against the armrest, and brought both her hands between her legs to shove the dick in. Her expansive bosom rocked back and forth on her chest, each breast out of sync with the other, as she lost herself in sweet abandon.

Rand raised his brow at the display, and almost looked... sorry for her. When he turned his gaze to Elayne, to her surprise, his expression remained the same. 'This is what happened to you?' he seemed to ask.

Looking at her mother become a slave to that cock, disembodied as it was, Elayne could not disagree. Was her mother a whore? Or did this cock stir something primal in a woman that she could not be blamed for?

Something coarse hit Elayne's pussy. Morgase's hairy crotch. With the cock bottomed out in Elayne, Morgase had the resistance she needed to bury the rest of the cock into herself. Her tighter vagina was squeezing the cock out into Elayne, and with a pop that Elayne felt deep inside her tummy, she knew the cock had invaded her bladder.

She didn’t feel anything down there. Who knew if she ever would again? But, with her and Morgase’s pussies smashed together like this, Elayne did feel bile rise in her throat. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, and Rand blessedly let her.

Her mother was actively trying to fuck her now. The friction of their thighs created heat Elayne did not feel within. Clit flicked clit, pink pussy kissed pink pisser, taut lady folds squished sloppily against loose lady folds, and a former queen began to scream and shake violently as she fucked another former queen, daughter be damned.

Morgase came.

“Yes, my girl! Oh my darling baby girl!” Her fountain of proof showered both Rand and Elayne in waves as the older woman grabbed Elayne's thigh and used it as leverage to furiously grind their golden carpets together. “That’s the spot!” Morgase screamed between moans. “Yes. Right. There!”

"Huh," Rand said. "Elayne Trakand, you are hereby the queen of Andor."

"What?" Elayne blathered as Morgase began to wind down, shut down, pleasureful smile on her face.

Rand stood, dropping Elayne. Her pubes snapped painfully as the tangles with her mother’s forest was forced apart. Rand had risen holding Morgase--who was still squirming, grossly kissing his neck. The cock went with the older women, which meant her pussy was tighter than Elayne’s…

You’re a slut, Elayne. A tramp. Don’t forget that. Your mother isn’t. Be proud.

The cock popped out of her mother and bounced off Elayne's face.

"I still don't know how I feel about that thing's power," Rand said. "I'll think about it until I come to collect your tax." He said that while looking at Elayne's vagina.

She closed her legs.

She knew then that she would be nothing more than a queen in name.

"If you're here," Rand said, "Someone will have to replace you at the White Glory Hole."

Rand carried Morgase to the wagon--where Nynaeve was being ploughed by some guards--laid her onto the hay, mounted her, and saluted Elayne.

"Mother!"

Rand grabbed Elayne's mother by the hips and rammed his cock into her as he vanished with the wagon, leaving Morgase's pleasureful moan echoing in the empty throne room. Leaving Elayne alone in that throne room she'd earned once before. She had been covered in cum then, but this time she was covered in her mister's blood, her mother's cum, and her own shame.

I've doomed the world she thought, glancing at her pale, dead mister and his deflated cock before her.

"Don't look so glum," someone said as guards and other Palace staff she'd known since a girl came towards her.

Dicks out.

"We'll take good care of our humble queen."

“Our humble queen,” another said, “with a not-so-humble number of fuck holes.”

Elayne, the queen of Andor, scrambled back, but even with her knees together, her holes still gaped, inviting her subjects in. The things they did to her made her and Nynaeve’s experiences in and since the Two Rivers pale in comparison. The bitch queen spent most of her days barely conscious. Each time lucidity returned, another man was in her. They were always in her. There was never a shortening to the line of men outside her throne room. There were no breaks, no friend for them to enter for a little while. Her slut holes had even gone dry. The only leaks she had were their ejaculates, which was used as lube for the next man in her. They were always in her. There were no breaks. No friends. She was alone. No one was coming to save her. She supposed she deserved that, too, for all the hate she’d thrown Nynaeve’s way since Tarmon Gai’don.

The only good she could do was thank Rand when he came to collect his tax. Thank him for sending her Mother away from here to the relatively peaceful White Glory Hole. Thank him for never making her mother experience this.

“Oh love,” he said as he watched her get spitroasted and triple penetrated. “Who do you think did this job before you? Morgase was only tight because I recently discovered vaginal rejuvenation Healing. Would you like that? They work on all holes. Would you like to once again experience being stretched for the first time?”

Elayne’s eyes widened, and she began to cry as Rand slowly approached, Healing palm reaching out to her. His Air held her head in place as she desperately tried to shake out a ‘No’.

Her holes required so much Healing that she passed out. When she woke, she frantically covered her crotch with her hands, petrified of going through the process of being stretched anew.

But she was in her old palace room, with her year-old twins sleeping beside her. Her hands reached out reflexively, but pulled away, too. Was this some trick? Was he doing this just to take them from her? Was she going to sully them by placing her whore hands upon their skin?

The questions immobilised her, and she cried again. Not because of the time she’d lost with her children, but because she’d not spared them a thought since her first days in the White Glory Hole. She vaguely remembered doing a meditation—that her mother and Moiraine had taught her—to suppress the one thing that had made her desperate, the one thing that made her fight back like Nynaeve had. Her children. But was that any excuse?

It wasn’t. It wasn’t even an excuse to hate Nynaeve, who had refused to control herself at the Hole, bringing more suffering on them both for a year until her mind had broken like a stick.

And… Elayne was broken, too. Not in the same way, but broken. Her hand trembled as she reached out for her son, her daughter, but she couldn’t touch them. Not after she’d made herself forget them. Not after her own mother raped her—however out of touch the older woman had been.

But her hand did go all the way to a note she found beside her. From Rand. It afforded her only one sentence.

“You’ve suffered enough.”

She cried once more. This time, for herself.

It took her months before she was able to hold her children, but when she did, Rand let her perform actual queen duties. No one but Rand fucked her anymore, except of course when he wanted to sweeten this trade deal or that treaty, and when he was drunk and wanted to show off his Queen of Andor cumming.