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The ringing of elven steel still echoes from the dark stone bones of Deep Frost Citadel. Its overlord is brought to kneel before his sacrilegious altar, staff thrown to an abyss in a far corner, and the tip of Gem’s blade kissing his chin. 

He didn’t expect this, evidently. The adventurers that are attracted to DeepFrost are the kind to ardently desire the loot of its depths to their detriment and be reduced to offal, mulch, and screaming little clouds of cerulean he happily seals away in soul jars. 

Not Gem… Watching her glide through the monstrous horde with singing silver and an irksome, charming smile on her face; the way she cuts through his prized ravager without a scratch is both infuriating and impressive, feeling silk and thorns constricting around his heart; icy rage twists against a blossoming warmth when she skips through the death traps with her tangerine curls bouncing, arrows and ice spells rain around her like a storm where she is gracefully dancing between each raindrop.

And now here she was, this impressive warrior, having bested his horde and now himself. 

“Gotta say, I am impressed your dark excellence, it's been a while since someone built a dungeon that gives me an actual challenge,” Gem pants, voice full of fondness and triumph, wiping her bloody lip away with the back of her hand. 

“Thank you, I’ll take some small solace in that fact,” Tango chuckles like dry ice, the sound filling the room like a haze as he stares up at Gem from her sword point. The sight of her over him, triumphant elf warrior, the legend, with her sword at his neck makes his heart race and embarrassingly stirs his loins to attention faster than any general could ever rally their troops.

This does not escape the emerald eyes of the Elf - not that it’s hard: with the way he is laid out in the dark of the interior chamber cast in the shadow of the frost monolith and altar, that his erection is prominent even against the loose dark fabric of his bottoms. 

“Well, you can meet your end with this sword,” Gem purrs, pressing the tip of her longsword to the hollow of Tango’s throat, stilling his breath until his Adam's apple is balancing atop the point, “or… this one,” and in her hand quite a sight forms. 

In her open palm Gem holds a conical flower bulb red shaped like a pinecone with overlapping scales that flows like the seasons from a verdant base and blisteringly bright amaranth bulb. The infusing of magic is subtle, a lesser spellcaster might have missed it, but as Gem maintains eye contact with Tango, the plant is seized by her magic. Slowly the plant is squeezed and reshaped by the magic binding it into a new form and as it does an aromatic, slimy liquid seeps through her elegant fingers like she is holding a bleeding heart. The sight should not turn Tango on as much as it does - his cock twitches as the fluid spills over the cold tiles and Gem, ever perceptive, sharpens her eyes and lips at his interest. Emerging from the receding scales, coated in that viscous floral fluid that fills DeepFrost with a bizarre naturality, is a large phallus with the same emerald hue as her eyes fading to a pastel swirl of pinks and reds that entrances him. 

While the sight arouses Tango plenty it is in fact the skillful articulation of her magic has him quietly stunned. Its flow is as sleek as any well carved river, it dares not demand her attention and formulates itself to her whim - for her attention is turned towards the overlord beneath her whose pallid cheeks are swallowed by a blizzard of arctic blue. 

For a warrior, monster hunter, and folk hero… her mastery of her own magic would put some of his peers to shame. 

“This blade, or that one, these are your choices,” Gem states with a questionably malicious giddiness - like either way she would be happy, but there is a path forward she is clearly hoping for. Her sword trails down his body until it rests over his blackened heart or what is left of it, catching on a button. “Either way, I will only accept your complete and utter defeat.”

Tango shudders: not for any hear of meeting the languishing spectre of death that clings to his soles like a shadow, but rather his eyes remain on the plant-dildo spurting a string of fluid as thick thorny vines emerge from its base and begin knitting a harness past Gem’s hand. His mouth flaps hopelessly for a time, before the gentle press of the blade to his chest gently encourages a response post-haste. 

Death is mundane, and Tango has no plan to settle for banality and the comforts of the mortals he loathes any time soon. He should accept this defeat with a modicum of decor, although he doubts his self-respect as a dark overlord will survive the ordeal. 

Tango lifts his hand and the blade bears down to bruise his cold flesh as he points towards the plant, “That one, please…” 

The ringing of elven steel still echoes from the dark stone bones of Deep Frost Citadel. Tango gasps: but the sensation of the blade sliding through flesh does not stir in his bones. Instead, the blade slices the middle of Tango’s robe and serves each button as cleanly as she had dispatched his ravagers letting his robe furl open and expose the soft curves and portly build of the overlord’s bare chest covered in a winter forest of hair. 

The fragrant display of Gem’s blade mastery arouses an echo of a moan from Tango. Gem’s pointed ears flicker at the sound and a spring blush catcher her freckles cheeks. 

“Nice to know dark overlords still have manners,” Gem giggles, voice saccharine in a way that makes Tango’s gut twist and squirm like he is being disembowelled. He very well could be with the way Gem’s blade drags down and severs threads and buttons of his nice tunic. The sight of Tango’s exposed chest, the soft fuzz and weight of age before he froze his form in the arcane stasis as a quasi-undead-entity makes Gem’s brows and a pleased sigh escape her lips.

The blade flashes to his chin and tilts Tango’s head up to focus on Gem past the sparkle of the crossguard. Gem’s eyes are hungry. Still bright and brilliant but there is something ravenous swirling in the depths of her pupils as they hone on the overlord making Tango’s chest ache and steals his breath like a warhammer’s impact.

“Prop yourself on the altar for me snowflake… void forbid we hurt you more than I want” Gem’s words feel at home in the cold of his citadel, there’s a certain comfort and nostalgia in the dark tint of her voice - like the longer Gem remains in the heart of the citadel, the more it becomes part of her. 

… Query for another day. 

“How embarrassing,” he mutters to himself as he pulls himself to the altar - to the dark altar where he conjures the foulest of magics and the altar where he was about to be fucked like a tavern wench. It certainly was embarrassing to be bested by a hero - granted one of legends, but still - but this pervading sense of humiliation, of being bested, does stoker something dangerous and dark in his gut. 

Limply, Tango tosses himself over the altar, the eerily smooth stone dripping with the arcane residue of past rituals clings to him like honey as his claws find purchase over the edge. The press of the altar against him twists a whine out of him that demands his attention more than his other hand reaches back of its own accord to lower his trousers until they collect around his ankles like weighted chains and he is bare and exposed. 

By the time Tango realises what he has subconsciously done, fallen into submission so easily - very illfitting of the dark shadow he casts over the realm, he can’t even scramble to cover himself before Gem’s wolf whistle alerts him to her appreciation. “Oh gosh, I don’t even have to pull your pants down - who knew the dark overlord was such a slut,” the words bite at him like a bitter cold he hasn’t felt in a century. A shiver racing up his spine twists out an embarrassed groan from the Dark Lord: perhaps worse than the pathetic bleat of pleasure is the feeling of his cock surging with excitement between his legs.  

Dragging his gaze up from the frozen blood stain littering the altar to look over his shoulder, Tango’s icy eyes widen at the brandishing of Gem’s new weapon. An intricate weave of thorny vines hug Gem’s hips and waist over her clothes - nevertheless they squeeze her flesh and the little dips makes Tango’s mouth heavy with drool - form a harness to which the magically conjured dildo is attached. 

Words fail him: the arcane artistry is exquisite. 

Gem saunters over, giving Tango time to trace each curve, chart the thickness of the shaft, and all of his other mental calculations with all the glee of an enthusiastic headsman sharpening their axe in front of the condemned. “You really are something your dark majesty, a slut,” Gem bears her teeth in an amused predatory chuckle as she looms over him and slaps his cheeks with an appraising roughness as if to see how much he’ll crack from a love tap. 

Although the sight of Tango’s fuzzy behind reverberating beneath her hold does captivate her for a moment and amuse Tango with her words, “this ass is wasted on someone so evil and reclusive,” the pervading sense that he is powerless that is exciting him so remains with her clawing hold. 

“So… what enchantments have you got on that?” Tango asks, voice a little more coarse than usual. 

“You’re about to get railed and you want to know about the enchantments on my strap?”

“A ton, yeah,” why does it suddenly feel like this is the most embarrassing aspect of this whole scene. 

“Well…” Gem posits, spreading Tango’s cheeks and delighting in the way his hole twitches when the blunter end of her strap rubs that slick floral fluid against it. “Unbreaking and mending, of course, can’t have it breaking apart midway into pummeling needy whores tender sports,” Gem purrs, slick head kneading Tango’s puckered hole. “Efficency, to wring out the most desperate and pathetic noises from needy sluts like you,” the plant oozes slick over his rim, dripping down to his taint and making him shiver as it clings to his body hair. “Density, to really hammer right into you,” a little twinge of frustration picks at Gem’s voice as she keeps trying to press into Tango. “And Fortune, to make each sensation and climax as intense as possible,” Tango whines, the mounting sensation pressing on his hole, spreading warmth over his hips. 

“Gem-” Tango whines. 

“Just trust the process Tango,” 

Slick flows between his legs like a river, oozing from the strap, and Gem’s hands dig into his hips like she’s trying to tame a wild beast and break it in. Tango relaxes, breathes deep, nerves fizzling through his diaphragm with each breath - some small part of him still clinging to the visage of an intimidating overlord refusing to succeed control and crumble to the whims of a hero-

Then Gem grabs the base of his tail and Tango moans like a busty tavern wench putting on the show of a lifetime. The sound comes out in a torrent, a thundering crash of a moan that shakes his bones. Gem’s cheeks go pink, even more so when she feels overlord’s shaking form swallows the tip of her strap with an unfounded greed, twisting another pathetic whine from the depths of his fetid frozen heart. 

“So is this where you’re weak…” Gem muses, wolfish smile catching her lip as she twists her grip and delights in how Tango’s fingers dig into the stone altar and how his hole flutters around her. The sensation, not to sound cliche, is magical. The way the strap spreads him open, how it starts to fill him up and weighs down against all those knotted bundles of nerves that have him stutter and moaning softly with the slow roll of Gem’s hips. The tug on his is like a flint against steel, sparks raining down the small of his spine until it feels like his back is on fire with an intense pleasure. 

Gem twists her fist in Tango’s tail like she’s pulling on reins and Tango’s breath catches and stutters at the rush of pleasure cracking up his spine like whip against his backside. “A little pull here and you open up so easily for me aren't you handsome… wow, really do swallow it up huh?” Gem purrs, rolling her hips forward until half her strap is buried in the overlord of DeepFrost. 

“I- I just - It’s sensitahhhhhh!” A moan catches against the roof of Tango’s mouth like a hook through the jaw as Gem pulls out to the tip before thrusting back into him, leveraging his tail to lure his hips closer to hers. 

“Aww it really is isn’t it - can’t wait till the bards sing about how the sinister overlord of DeepFrost can be bested by pulling on his fluffy widdle tail like a needy kit,” the thought of his humiliation being publicised pulls a pitiful moan from Tango and has his cock leaking onto the deepslate bricks below. That, or it’s Gem bottoming out in Tango, her hips meeting his and burying the length of her strap deep into him. 

He can feel the ripple of magic rolling against his insides with an intensity foreign to him that leaves him gasping a little between the gruff whines and moans. 

“Aww you're much better at swallowing cocks then you are constructing traps your dark majesty,” Gem purrs and the humiliation burns against the back of his neck like a brand. “Have you considered a career change?” She teases. 

“Gem don’t-” Tango whines before her hips piston in and out and shatter the words in his mouth like a glacier crumbling. 

“Don’t what Tango, give you what you clearly want?” Gem muses playfully, dredging guttural sounds of pleasure from the overlord splayed beneath her, “or don’t say how good my name sounds when you moan it like I’m paying you for it, because it does, my name sounds so pretty on your lips, snowflake.” Tango whines with each fresh humiliation needled into him until they are stitched onto the very fibre of his soul. 

“Gem please-” Tango whines and he can feel Gem’s eyes rake across his back like a dragon’s claw. His lungs feel at a deficit, unable to fill before they are rung out like a dish cloth with each thrust of the strap filling him, fizzling into tender nerves with surges to magic. 

The slick sounds of Gem thrusting her hips back and forth into Tango echo beneath the moans that reverberate into the bones of the citadel until they stain the wall. The hand knotting in his tail loosens, letting him breath, although it remains loosely kneading the sensitive base every so often as a gentle reminder that Gem has him by the scruff of his neck. 

“It’s a shame really,” Gem purrs, her voice picking up this delightfully breathless quality as the exertion of delving the DeepFrost depths and now fucking it’s overlord finally wear into her elven bones that Tagno adores and finds himself swooning over between the pleasure smiting into him. “You did such intricate and devious works here-” and the sudden praise from Gem makes his breath still and ears perk up. “Really appreciate an overlord who can make a real trap, almost got me a few times - that warden layer was a real delight to get through,” each pointed praise of his citadel, of his designs, of the dark mechanisms is joined by Gem’s strap pressing into his prostate like a wolf’s jaws into prey. And the appreciation - the praise - feels almost as good as rushes of pleasure making his hands sweat and his tail feverishly wagging like a fish out of water. 

The rhyme continues much to Tango’s delight. An intoxicating mix of praise and humiliation heaping onto him like fresh snow dancing down onto his shoulders and back while the slick sounds of Gem’s straps thrusting in and out of him fill the air and fills his muscles with a maddening heat. His cock grinds and rubs against the smooth stone of the altar with each of Gem’s thrusts, tugging fresh pleasures into him until he is oozing pre down the stonework into the slick puddle collecting between his legs.

As Tango is pummeled into submission against the altar, shrouded in praise and humiliation that starts to make his head fuzzy, the embarrassment of moaning in earnest fades into the dark forgotten corner of the citadel as Gem’s flowery words fill the air as enthusiastically as the floral aroma of the sticky substance spilling from Gem’s strap. 

And when Gem praises the DeepFrost Citadel as “the most fun she’s ever had in a dungeon,” the hand not knotting in his tail clasps around the tip of a horn. Gem feels Tango jump like he’s been struck by lightning, a moment of rigidness rushing him like rigor set in before he melts against the slab. 

“Sensitive here too snowflake?” Gem asks with a smile, stroking the icy tip of his horn, savouring the grooves and rise of each ridge under her fingers and the way it makes Tango shiver and gasp. 

“A- a little yeah,” Tango balks voice broken, cheeks staining blue as the sensation of his sensitive areas being stroked and caressed paddle up and down his spine atop the crashing waves of pleasure ramming into his prostate. 

The barbarity of using them as leverage points to pull him on and off her cock is not lost on Tango, especially as Gem’s pace grows increasingly feverish. The intensity with which Gem’s strap thumps into Tango has him gasping for breath, back arching as she pulls on his horn, pulling him back from tip to base by his tail. 

Gem’s breath against his neck is like a blade cutting into him. Her exhaustion matches his, and yet she keeps thrusting through the acidic burning seeping into her thighs, keeps slamming into him with a feverish need to break the overlord more than she already has - or at least break this altar whining and wailing beneath them.

“Gem please… you win… I am bested, just-” Tango’s voice grinds against the hot wet pleasure oozing from his lips as he comes against the altar unceremoniously: the sensation beneath the maddening pleasure burning through his icy soul. 

“Better than all your citadel… and your monsters… is you… a good slut for me aren’t you Tango,” she growls and her mouth finds Tango’s neck and stakes a claim. 

The overlord seizes at the sudden stab to his neck and before he can even process the intensity with which Gem’s teeth tear into him like she’s trying to tear his jugular, the plant throbs around his insides, squeezing and milking the strap until spurts of the sticky fluid flood his inside. 

The throb of the strap, of the plant pulsating as a rush of that syrupy clear liquid floods into him threatens to make him come again even as the last embers of his orgasm remain embedded in his gut like daggers. Growling against his ice-kissed flesh, Gem’s foreign warmth bleeds in him as he grip on his sensitivities mercifully lightens enough to stop him from feeling choked by the sensation. 

Tango clings to the altar like a life raft: like he’ll fall through the ground without it. He can feel the plant’s substance pushing against his insides, flooding every crevice until it starts pushing against his rim and spilling past Gem’s strap in a viscous flood that has him whimpering - the sensation is intense but more so the perverseness of the situation. 

Gem seems satisfied from the way her lips curl against his neck - how she presses a little tender kiss like a bow on top of the whole situation. Gem’s smile falters when she tries to pull out and ends up pulling Tango with her before they fumble forward for purchase against the altar. 

“Gem…”

“Right… forgot it swells up,” She chuckles and Tango whines as his stomach sinks into a secret new layer of the DeepFrost construct that is deep beyond deep. 

“Stupid jerk…” he pouts, grumbling, trying his best to remain still as each little movement threatens to ignite his insides with a carnivorous rush of pleasure that feels like it would hurt as much as it would please. 

“Same time next week your dark eminence” Gem teases. Tango buries his face against the altar top, summoning a pillow underneath him - nodding nethertheless. Gem leans on him, hands gently wrapping around his waist in a tender embrace and letting a quiet sound of excitement dissipate into the depths of the dungeon while they wait for the strap to deflate enough for Gem to pull out without taking Tango with her. 

Although after that, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. He makes a pretty good slut in addition to a dark overlord of doom.