New Life As A Lewd Futanari Succubus

“NO!” the announcer screamed and clenched the railings when she and everyone else in the mines saw in excruciating detail on the giant viewing sphere how Number Fifty-eight’s manhood burst apart into tiny pieces and flew in all directions.

“UUUUUWWAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!” the tigerkin screamed as his blood shot forth from where his precious penis once was.

With shaking hands, the beastkin tried to stop the bleeding, tried to salvage the unsalvageable. He refused to believe it. He refused to accept that there was nothing to be saved. No meat. No balls. Only pain, blood, and bits of flesh swaying back and forth, hanging by torn pieces of skin.

“Nononononononononono,” with hands in tremors worse than a drug addict’s going cold turkey, the tigerkin tried to piece together what little manhood remained between his legs. That’s when he felt a noose tighten around his neck.

“GHUUUUUURK—!!” the tigerkin’s eyes bulged as he choked from the sudden strangling pressure on his neck.

While Number Fifty-eight was in utter shock and preoccupied with his destroyed manhood, the naked, blood-covered girl had grabbed The Whip of Sodom and jumped on the beastkin’s back. She wrapped threw several loops of the masterfully crafted braided leather over the beastkin’s head, wrapped the edges around her hands, squeezed tightly, and pulled with all the force she could muster, leaning back for more pressure.

“Fucking-GHUELK-CUNT!” the tigerkin screamed in bloody fury, but that did not help as the leather further sunk into his fur, flattening his veins and arteries. The tigerkin could not get his fat trembling fingers under the leather to free himself and his claws only scratched his own neck each time he tried. He cursed, screamed, spun around, and flailed, trying to throw off Number Forty but, could not reach the girl whose smaller body frame now proved to be an advantage. In his increasing panic and growing light-headedness, the beastkin tripped and fell.

Gasping for breath, Number Fifty-eight thrashed on the ground, foaming at the mouth, trying to reach the girl behind him, trying to catch an arm or a leg. Anything! But even as his nails scratched her skin, he could not grab on to her. Even when he rolled over and put all his weight on the much smaller human female she held to the whip with all her might. And all the struggle only further robbed the tigerkin’s body of the precious, dwindling oxygen. Though he no longer felt it, the struggle further exacerbated the wounds in his nether regions as more and more blood spewed forth.

In his last-ditch effort, the tigerkin summoned forth all his strength and rose to his feet. Letting out painful, choked out gurgling gasps, the beastin jumped up and back, falling onto the sharp rocks and using Number Forty’s body as a cusion.

“AAAAAAHH!” Number Forty screamed in pain when her back slammed against the rocks, only to be crushed further down and suffocated by the furry body nearly thrice her weight. But Lilith did not let go of the whip. Even as she herself struggled to breathe, squashed under her opponent, she gathered all strength and willpower to outlast her foe.

With his efforts, strength, and blood spent, Number Fifty-eight clawed at the whip around his neck, but even his sharp claws could not so much as scratch the legendary Whip of Sodom. Tears rolled down from the tigerkin’s eyes. Foaming spit flew from his jaw, opening and closing agony, but receiving no oxygen. The tigerkin’s body spasmed uncontrollably, but that did not save him as the girl beneath him endured with grit teeth getting beaten into rocks that sunk into her back and spine.

Unable to curse, unable to beg, unable to bring himself relief, losing all motor functions while his fingers trembled around his neck, tigerkin emmited his last, weakening, croaking gasps until even those ceased. Only after his body went limp, his hands slumped at his sides, and his head turned sideways no longer struggling for oxygen that was no use to a lifeless body, did the girl let go of the whip.

Number Forty pushed against the furry body with all her strength to lift it up at least enough to be able to breathe herself.

“HUAAAH~!” the girl hungerly gasped for the sweet oxygen she denied her raping would-be murderer. She finally managed to push the tigerkin’s dead body off enough to crawl from under him to a standing ovation from the crowd.

Even those that hoped for a different outcome could not help but be impressed with Number Forty’s persevirence against the odds. And the few that were displeased with the outcome remained quiet seeing how outnumbered they were.

Among the quiet ones was the dispirited announcer who leaned against the railings with her head hung low as she listened to the overwhelming reaction of the crowds. Number Forty slowly rose to her feet not only victorious but already celebrated as a champion.

Lilith struggled to her feet. Scratched, bruised, and beaten, her body ached all over. She could not open her left eye due to the cocktail of hair, blood, and other fluids that stuck to half her face. She breathed heavily, her chest rose up and down, refilling her body with oxygen. The right to breathe for which she desperately fought with the tigerkin. But even weakened, bloodied, and naked, Number Forty stood proudly with her back straight as she looked around for the white mask girl.

Miss Ruby stopped caressing herself and as the two girls locked eyes.

Lilith raised her arm, pointed a single finger right at the masked murderer of her uncle, and swore, “You’re next!”

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