Chapter 554: A Slave’s Desire
Tap. Tap.
The sound of high heels on the marble floor echoed in the long, silent hallway.
"Madam."
A soft, respectful voice spoke, breaking the silence. A woman in a suit stood with her head bowed.
"Welcome back," she said, her posture perfect, her hands clasped in front of her. "How are you, Madam? Is the mission done?"
"As perfectly as I hoped."
She stood in front of the woman.
"Did anything happen while I was away?"
Asked a red-haired woman with a cigar, her single red eye scanning the hallway, her gaze missing nothing. She was wearing a black suit, a perfect fit for her curvaceous body, and her face was a mask of cold efficiency.
This was Augusta. Also known as Madam X, the former goddess of fire and one of the Nexus collectors.
Morgana's first slave goddess, who, under her 'training,' managed to awaken the sex aspect.
"Everything is as you ordered, Madam," the woman replied, her voice steady. "It's just that two days ago, a messenger from Asgard showed up."
Augusta's single eye narrowed, a flicker of interest in its depths.
"Asgard? What did they want?"
Her 'deal' with Odin was known to no one, so she had to fake her interest.
"They left a letter for you, Madam. I already placed it on your desk," the woman said, her head still bowed.
"Good, you may leave."
The woman bowed again and walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.
Augusta continued down the hallway, her high heels clicking with a steady, deliberate rhythm. She entered her office, a large, spacious room with a panoramic view of the Nexus's chaotic, dark side.
She walked to her desk, a massive piece of obsidian that seemed to absorb the light around it. On it, a single envelope lay. It was made of a strange, shimmering material, with the symbol of Asgard—a stylized trinity knot—imprinted on it.
She picked it up, her fingers tearing it open with a casual grace. She pulled out a single sheet of parchment, the writing on it elegant and flowing.
She read it, her expression unreadable. Then, a slow, predatory smile spread across her face.
"Interesting... very interesting."
The letter was from Odin. Not a request, but an... order. A command disguised as a polite inquiry.
He was 'inviting' her to Asgard. To 'discuss' a matter of 'mutual interest.'
The matter was, of course, Morgana and her Valkyrie daughter, Eir.
"The one-eyed bastard is getting impatient," Augusta chuckled, her single eye gleaming with a cruel light. "He must have felt the purity of that Valkyrie and couldn't wait to get his grubby hands on her."
She crumpled the letter in her hand, the shimmering material turning to dust in her palm.
"He can wait."
She had her own plans for him. The one-eyed fool thought he could use her to get what he wanted. He thought he could command her. He was mistaken. She was not a tool. She was a master of her own destiny.
"Well... I am a slave, but my mistress is a good one," she mused, her thoughts drifting to a certain silver-haired goddess.
"Sigh... I should probably speed up things," she sighed, gently tapping her ass.
The butt plug was still there, a constant, throbbing reminder of her mistress's 'care.' It had been absorbing her own latent magical energy for weeks, a slow, steady drain that was both infuriating and... strangely comforting. It was a connection, a link to the one being she had ever truly feared and respected.
She walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, her suit perfectly tailored to her curves. She turned, admiring her reflection, her gaze lingering on her ass. She couldn't see the plug, of course, but she could feel it. A solid, unyielding presence that was a constant reminder of her place.
"I wonder if she is having fun without me," she mused, her single eye narrowing. She didn't like being away from her mistress for too long. The world was... boring without her. Less colorful. Less... dangerous.
And of course... NO SEX!
For weeks! She, Augusta, a woman with an appetite that could rival a succubus goddess—thanks to Morgana—was reduced to... self-service. It was undignified. It was... frustrating.
She needed to get back, not just because of Odin, not just because of the butt plug, but because she was... bored. And a bored Augusta was a dangerous Augusta.
"No, I must finish my job here first before I can go back and beg my mistress for a good fuck," she sighed again, her shoulders slumping slightly.
Her job was to collect.
She was a collector for the Nexus. She collected rare items, powerful artifacts, and... unique individuals.
For weeks, she was on a high-stakes cat-and-mouse game across several realms, completing missions by the hundreds.
The goal was to raise her collector rank just to get access to the powerful isolating artifacts that would allow her to trap a gold-rank god like Odin, preventing him from escaping.
Augusta and Morgana's plan was simple: lure Odin to neutral ground, like her dead world, for example, trap him, and fuck the shit out of him.
For that, she needed the authority of a gold-rank collector to be able to trap Odin, coupled with the toxic void air that polluted her world of origin, which would weaken him significantly.
If this didn't work for whatever reason, then they would go with the second plan, which was simpler. Morgana would just sneak into Asgard and fuck the shit out of Odin and his pantheon.
Of course, Augusta refused this plan instantly. It was too risky, even for someone like her mistress.
"But... I kind of want to see that," she chuckled, a predatory gleam in her eye.
Just imagining Morgana, in all her divine glory, storming the golden halls of Asgard, her cock leading the charge... it was a glorious, suicidal, and incredibly arousing thought.
'I wonder what she is doing right now,' Augusta thought, her right hand slowly slipping inside her skirt, her fingers finding her slick folds.
She was wet. Just from thinking about her mistress.
"Ugh... I can't take it anymore," she groaned, her frustration boiling over. She needed a release. A real one.
She swiftly stormed into her bedroom, her movements sharp, angry. She practically tore off her suit, the expensive fabric ripping at the seams as she flung it aside. She stood naked in the center of the room, her body a canvas of frustration and need.
Snap!
With a snap of her fingers, a massive holographic screen appeared in front of her.
On it was a video feed. A porn video that showed a beautiful silver-haired woman fucking a busty red-haired woman with one eye.
It was her.
Her and her mistress.
Augusta 'downloaded' her entire five months that she spent with her mistress from her memories. She turned them into a holographic video collection.
She pressed play.
The image flickered to life. Her moans filled the room, a desperate, wanton sound that was both familiar and alien. She watched herself, on her knees, her ass in the air, her face a mask of pure ecstasy as her mistress's massive cock pounded into her from behind.
She remembered that day. The feeling of being so completely owned, so utterly filled. The shame, the pleasure, the overwhelming love.
"Ahh~"
Her hands moved to her breasts, her fingers pinching her hard nipples, mimicking the rough, demanding touch of her mistress. Her other hand slid down her back, roughly playing with the butt plug, pushing it deeper, making her gasp.
She watched the hologram, her eyes glued to the screen, her body moving in sync with the woman on the screen. She was masturbating to her own rape. To her own degradation.
And it was heaven.
"Oh... Mistress... please... harder!" she cried out, her voice a choked sob of pleasure and longing. She was close. So close.
Her fingers moved faster, her hips bucking wildly. The holographic Augusta on the screen was screaming now, her body convulsing in a powerful orgasm.
And so was the real Augusta.
"AAHHHHH!"
Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, a violent, overwhelming surge of pleasure that made her see stars. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed on the floor, her body trembling, her mind a blissful, empty haze.
She lay there for a long time, her chest heaving, her body slick with sweat. The hologram kept playing, a silent, looping reminder of what she was missing.
"Sigh..." she sighed, a wave of sadness washing over her.
"This is not enough," she whispered, her single eye filled with a desperate need. "I need the real thing."
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