So based on me mentioning Morax in a few posts I have been... Strongly pondering the concept of a war-era Morax who is much harsher and firmer than the somewhat more mellow man he would later become.
Not that he's heartless... not at all. In fact, it was by his generosity and mercy that you're even alive to begin with. You, a goddess of something or another, a lesser deity, would be dead if not for him sparing you. It was foolish to ever think you stood a chance in combat against him. It was laughable... as much as it was irksome. Yes, it made a pit of disgust and irritation swell up in his stomach, seeing you stand against him and pose to attack, so arrogantly, so fearlessly. To even look him in the eye as you did, give a smirk that set his anger on fire -- you had to be dealt with.
But seeing you in defeat -- not that it took very long, only a few moments to disarm you and throw you to the ground -- softened his heart a bit. Once you had the polearm tip pressed against your throat, all that arrogance seemed to disappear. Your eyes filled with tears and your voice became shaky and suddenly, you were no longer hurling haughty insults, but begging to be allowed to live. Apologizing, sniffling, trembling. It was rather satisfying. It felt like everything put in its place.
And how, then, could he reject that request? Look at you, you poor, pitiful little thing. Stripped of your power and pride alike, no different from a powerless human. Pathetic... so pathetic it's perhaps endearing. It appeals to whatever sense of mercy he has. He might even feel some guilt, were he to run you through right then and there. And besides, it would be so wasteful for you to die without ever having done anything of any real worth or use... a lacking he can certainly solve.
Morax's policy is that you are to spend the remainder of your existence -- your joint existence together -- being reminded of your mistake. In the same way a few rash actions taken in the course of seconds can land one a prison sentence lasting the rest of their life, so you, too, will spend the rest of your days in punishment for your defiance and ignorance. A glowing, golden emblem that resembles that of the element of his power rests over your womb, clearly marked on your flesh, and he ensures that even when you are permitted to cover yourself, that must remain visible. It's symbolic of defeat and ownership alike. You haven't asked whether or not it's even possible for it to ever fade or be taken off. You know the reason why you can't bring yourself to ask is because you fear the answer.
You are to be grateful for the life you are provided, allowed to merely exist, a war trophy of sorts. You stay dressed in the things he gives you, if any at all, you sit on his lap, you stay silent and still, poised and obedient, to look nice for anyone there visiting. It's a rather simple job, you can do that much, can't you? It's how you can show how grateful you are.
See, if it weren't for him, you would have merely been defeated by another deity -- who would have undoubtedly slaughtered you without another thought. Aren't you grateful, then, for his grace and mercy? He asks you frequently. You know it serves no other purpose than his own satisfaction, and drilling it further into your own head. The tone of his voice is always so teasing, you can feel the smirk on his face without having to turn your head -- not that you won't, seeing as he demands it. It's sort of a thing with him, as you quickly find out, that he hates how your eyes dart around, how you look at the ground, how you squeeze your eyes shut. Look at me when you speak to me. It's said softly, but firmly, the same as many of his commands, but as with everything else, his voice will grow firmer if you make him have to repeat himself.
There's many little warnings like that. He's a patient master. He can narrow his eyes, give your arm or hand a firm squeeze, lower his voice to a warning tone. You get one warning and one warning only, for any behavior that is not in line with what he expects from you. If he needs more than that for you to behave, what that means is that he's slipped up in some way -- perhaps he's been too soft, and you don't fear him as you should.
He is patient, yes, but not nearly as much so as he might become one day many years later. For now, with you, you know when you've upset him the moment you do -- his eyes narrow, any smile he had drops. He has an angry habit of grabbing you by the jaw, holding you head in place, speaking down to you with a tone of disgust and frustration. He lacks quite the same... gentle nudging of his later self as well, no soft now let's be nice... or anything like that. No, it's far more direct. Care to say that again? He clenches his teeth at he speaks, tilting your head up with his grip on your jaw. Not that he ever bothers to hear you out or let you defend yourself, merely releasing you harshly with a mutter about you being such an ungrateful little brat. Perhaps a day or so chained to the bed, without so much as acknowledgement, will bring you back to being a bit more appreciative. If not, he's perfectly capable of more direct and corporeal punishments.
Part of your daily routine is appropriate shows of gratitude through service -- you're trained like a servant, or a pet. You, no matter how much it infuriates you, with time, will learn to come when you are commanded, be it by word of mouth or a simply tongue-click and come-hither motion with his finger. Your bouncing on his cocks, or bobbing your head up and down on your knees before him provides great stimulation while he ponders more important matters, looks over his maps and plans. You know which command is which, too, by his motions -- a finger pointing downward indicates for you to work him with your mouth, another come-hither motion means to get on his cocks and ride.
And on that matter, there is no excuse as to why you can't have both in you at once. It's one of the first aspects of your training. All dragon and qilin have that reptilian feature... sure, he could get rid of them and combine them into one with human shapeshifting... but he will not. Ah, then, how would he get to see the way your eyes prick with tears, hear those strained little cries from your throat... it's delectable. You can hear the rumbling vibrating of his chest with his chuckles as you suffer. No, your body can fit him inside you easily. You have just as many holes in your lower half as he has cocks, and if stuffing your ass is as bad as you claim, then you can take both of them in your tight little cunt instead, no?
It's the least you can do to show your gratitude. You, who he so graciously spared, why should you deny him pleasure for your own comfort? You should be willing without hesitation to... no, you should be eager, grateful, to prove your devotion to him by taking the stretch and strain that comes with keeping him satisfied. You should be grateful for any pain, any pleasure, that you obtain from him. Anything he has to give you, you will show your thankfulness for, one way or another. Besides, soon, you'll be used to it. Your body will learn him, your body will adjust, you will be able to take him more and more easily as you're molded into something that is completely and entirely his, his to a point that even your body is marked as his own.
And you should be very grateful you're being allowed the opportunity to take him at a pace and firmness you have some control over... should you refuse -- or, what you get each night come sundown anyway -- you find that when he's in control of those things, brutality is his only choice. He uses your body like a toy, keeping you face down, ass up, slamming into you over and over, hard and fast, and no amount of begging will get him to slow down until he can breed you full.
Not that he's apathetic to your own pleasure... quite the opposite. Forcing each orgasm out of your body is in and of itself a reminder of your place, that you're not something of your own existence, but a dependent existence. He's spoiled you, truly. What with the way he holds you down and works you to climax over and over, until you sob and squirm and try so desperately to get away... he's ruined you for himself. Now that your body is used to such intensity, do you really think you'll ever be able to reach that with anyone else, or even by yourself? No, you need him for that.
Not that he'd let you find out if you ever could yourself... he makes sure to keep a close eye on you and punish any such behavior, should he find you attempting to masturbate yourself in any way. It's an important rule, established early on. Orgasms are a form of control, they are rewards when you are good, and you are denied them when you're bad. He's careful to leave your hands tied whenever he needs to leave you alone for a moment, either way. So while you aren't allowed orgasms on your own, you're denied being given them, too, when you've misbehaved... so miserable. It only makes sense that, when you think you see the slightest window of opportunity, you'd take it.
Which is how he walks in on you, having shuffled your way over to the bed so that the bedpost was between your legs, humping and grinding into it, it's been so long since he let you cum... you freeze up as the door creaks open. You thought you'd be able to hear him coming, but you must have been too lost in the heat of the moment... it only takes him a second to put it together. You feared he'd be angry, but somehow, watching a smile slowly grow on his face somehow feels even more frightening.
He stoops down, grabs you by the arm, pulls you close... you poor, pathetic little thing. Don't worry, in a way, this is a good thing. You've improved in one aspect, at least... shamelessness. Do you really think the goddess you once were would ever give up your dignity and pride like this? No, the you before would have stubbornly done nothing.
Your willpower and your arrogance alike have eroded, leaving you nothing but a desperate, needy little slut... so say it. Repeat what he told you. Say that you are no goddess, as you sometimes continue to so stubbornly insist, as you often squeal at him when you want to be defiant... but just a needy whore who craves cock so badly you can't go a few minutes alone without trying to get off. Say it. Good. Aren't things so much easier when we're honest with ourselves? Still, he can't just let you continue, of course. You'll get to cum when he already told you you could, a few more days. Until then... you got slick all over the bedpost, you know. Be sure to clean that up with your tongue first. Then you can move on to actual corporeal punishment for intentional disobedience.
And throughout that, once again, he's sure to repetitively remind you of how far you sank... such a haughty, arrogant little thing you were. And look at you now, whimpering and shedding tears so easily. It's beautiful, truly. If the mark on your skin wasn't enough to keep you reminded of your place, then sessions like this will have to do instead.
