Power Fantasy

Power Fantasy

I won’t lie. I did like the power fantasy aspect too.

Plus, my new body was very, very erotic. Just touching myself, I had orgasms more mind shattering than any I’d managed in my old human form.

My nipples, inner thighs, asshole, ears, neck, and heck, even my mouth were capable of being stimulated to a climax. There might be more erogenous zones I didn’t map out, but after tenth time of finger-fucking my own mouth to stimulate strong orc fingers, I found some toys.

Former Ion had been a prude, but also an unbiased collector of curios and exotica.

Some of these things, namely these egg-shaped vibrators, which my Eye of Truth told me were magical artifacts to cause earthquakes, could double as sex toys. Those eggs quaked my panties just fine. I conjured a bit of lube on them, and slipped them inside. One in the butt, the other in my tight little slit, and ramped up the magic power until my thoughts went mushy.

Two centuries slipped by, yes centuries. Time speeds up when you are an immortal demi-goddess and get caught in a masturbatory rut. I browsed through artifacts, discovering new uses for them as sex-toes, oogled at my gorgeous female body, and spent countless lazy days gazing at the fantasy world outside through my little windows, quietly longing for sexual adventures.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t simply walk outside and do what I wanted to. The people outside my windows were real, as was my power.

As a demi-goddess I would have changed history by merely walking through a town. Since I was kind of slacking and fapping all day, I had not yet gained minute control of my powers. My whims could have materialized as new monsters or magical hurricanes. I could kill people if I wasn’t careful.

In a decade, I designed an additional divine truename rune to add to my body. This one sealed most of my other divine abilities, making almost a regular mortal. In addition, the rune made a copy of my mind, which had access to a portion of my powers. The copy would reside within the invisible rune, and observe me for safety. If anything really bad happened (like if I came across a murderhobo), it would resurrect me, restore my powers, and return me to my sanctum. And, to make sure I didn’t pussy out from peril willy-nilly, the rune would then force me to sit down like a good girl and do paperwork for my master, for a decade, without masturbating.

I called this masterpiece of a divine rune, the Divine Wage Slave Brand, or DIVASLAB for convenience.

Preparations done, I consulted my Mirror of Answers and observed possible situations for a hapless mortal damsel to traipse into.

There were plenty of options. The world—Larassia—while not grimdark, was a dangerous place. Injustices were abound. Evil ran amok.

I glanced at tentacle breeding pits, slave sprawling markets, a society of elves in all black whose slaves walked on all fours, and an erotic correctional facility for the magically insane. I massaged my clit, thighs clenching, until I found my fate.

It wasn’t as grand as some others, but I would be doing this for a loooooong time.

Plus, the area seemed to have humans, elves, and horned people similar to myself, so I wouldn’t stick out too much.

With a series of esoteric hand gestures, I teleported out of my sanctum, and branded my forehead with Divaslap.

“Goodbye freedom. Hello, pleasure slavedom!”