Ashes of Nightmares

The tranquility of the coast was, for Anna, merely a gaudy disguise, barely concealing the turbulent sea of desire that churned within her. She yearned for release, for freedom from the shackles of being queen, yet, at the same time, the occasional setbacks on the battlefield and the memories of being humiliated by her enemies spread through her like poison, fueling an uncontrollable and starkly contrasting sex addiction.

She closed her eyes, trying to free herself from the endless pressure, the invisible fetters of the empire's crisis and Caron's relentless pursuit, which suffocated her. The desire within her body grew stronger and stronger, as if to break through the restraints of reason. She clenched her teeth, futilely trying to suppress the tears, just as futile as trying to suppress the secretions between her legs. Warm liquid flowed uncontrollably, soaking her cheeks and crotch. She felt a despair that went deep into her bones, wanting to cry out loud, wanting to tear her hair out, wanting to vent all the pain and humiliation. She began to loathe herself, loathe her weakness, loathe her incompetence.

Her consciousness blurred, and the illusion descended once more. This time, she was not in the Holy Cathedral, but in a public bathhouse filled with Orcish scents. The rough stone walls, the pungent smell of sulfur, and the greedy gazes of those green-skinned monsters all sent shivers down her spine. She knew that these Orcs were the embodiment of her inner fears, a projection of the twisted desires that had been forged after she was tortured by Caron. But even so, she couldn't control her body, couldn't stop herself from sinking into this swamp of desire.

The Orcs surrounded her, tearing at her clothes, exposing her snow-white skin. Anna felt ashamed, but at the same time, a strange sense of excitement rose within her. She thought of Caron, the man who made her struggle in despair. He liked to see her suffer, liked to see her struggle, and she, incredibly, was craving that feeling of being dominated.

The Orcs' movements were rough and savage, their claws leaving red marks on her body. Anna's body trembled, pain and pleasure intertwined, making it impossible for her to distinguish reality from illusion. She whispered brokenly, "No... don't... stop..." But she knew that this was not just a plea to the Orcs, but also a surrender to the dark desires deep within her.

Her traitorous body was subtly anticipating more... more excessive treatment. She began to yearn for complete conquest, to be played to death by the Orcs. This twisted desire made her feel ashamed, yet she couldn't resist it. She knew she was insane, but she was enjoying the madness.

A tall Orc pinned her to the ground, roughly separating her legs. Anna felt a sharp pain, but at the same time, an unspeakable pleasure surged through her. She began to writhe her body, catering to the Orc's movements, emitting painful yet seductive moans. Her nipples swelled and hardened, like two hard fruits, rubbing against the rough stone. The strength she had barely pieced together yesterday was now like a candle in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

She thought of her mother, the great woman who sacrificed herself to protect her. She thought of her mission, the goal of fighting for the liberation of the kingdom. But at this moment, all of this became meaningless. She just wanted to wallow, just wanted to be swallowed by desire, just wanted to forget all the pain and responsibility. She ached vaguely, as if she was still gripping Caron's sword. Humiliating memories flooded in like a tide, assaulting her nerves. The strange reactions of her body made her feel even more ashamed and helpless.

Suddenly, a stream of cold water splashed on her face. Anna woke up with a start, realizing that she was still lying in the bathtub, the warm water washing over her body. The bathroom was quiet and peaceful, with only the candlelight on the walls flickering slightly.

It turned out that it was all just an illusion, a phantom created by her inner fears and desires. But this phantom was so real, so addictive, that she could hardly tell the difference between truth and falsehood. She knew that she had to find a way to control this desire, otherwise, she would eventually be devoured by it.

She struggled to climb out of the bathtub, standing naked on the cold floor. She felt a sense of emptiness and bewilderment, as if she had lost all her strength and direction. She didn't know what to do, didn't know what else she could do. She arched her back again and again, each time a cathartic expression of her depression (orgasm), as if using this extreme method to vent her dissatisfaction and pain. After a dozen or so repetitions, her emotions gradually subsided. At this point, she was completely immersed in her own world, so much so that the guards in her palace did not notice her abnormality.

The moonlight quietly shone into the room, witnessing the queen's fragility and struggle. She was like a beast trapped in a cage, seeking a moment of solace in despair. She knew that tomorrow, she would still have to wear the queen's mask and continue this cruel game of power. But at this moment, she just wanted to be a real woman, a woman who could indulge her desires to the fullest. Even if this desire was so twisted and dark. She needed Caron, or rather, any man who could let her wallow. She enjoyed the tranquility of the coast while also yearning for some kind of uncontrolled stimulation.