Prologue: Golden Masochist Empress – The Dawn of Public Degradation♡

Ever since returning from the battlefield, Gloria had been living a life of debauchery—or at least, that's how it appeared. Her citadel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was now under siege. All because of the warlords' uprising. The reason was simple. Gloria had willed it so. It wasn't difficult at all. She just had to cast them into the gutter, hound them relentlessly, torment them, and slyly reveal a vulnerability. This was the perfect moment. Right now, as she brutally crushed the rebellion, was the ideal timing.

Gloria gazed down at the citadel's gates, a hundred meters below. With a thunderous boom, the castle doors shattered. Countless soldiers poured inside. Gloria's direct forces numbered just over sixty thousand. Most had been sent far away under the pretext of rest after the war, leaving only about twelve hundred to guard the interior.

Gloria turned. Standing there was her loyal servant—and the architect of her downfall—the empire's greatest female thief, Samiel.

"Your Majesty."

What she offered was a grotesque white orb. Tentacles sprouted from its pristine steel surface.

"This is a bio-bomb that detonates in response to Your Majesty's divine power. A special creation from the empire's Mage Tower. Once swallowed, it implants in the stomach, lying in wait solely for your mana signature. You'll either die... or be captured and subjected to humiliations worse than death."

"......I see...."

The arrogant empress accepted it. The wriggling tentacles sent chills down her spine. This was different from her usual pranks and indulgences. Those had always been under her control—little more than masturbation, if one had to name it. Pleasurable, thrilling to a degree, but ultimately trivial. Acts she could abandon anytime. No matter how bound she seemed, a mere thought could unleash her mana to escape any dungeon. Even if her depravities were exposed, Samiel could handle the cleanup with magic.

But this was different. The moment she swallowed it, Gloria would either die... or face brutal torture and rape, her body preserved and put on trial for all to see. No other choice. Even Samiel wouldn't obey her anymore. That was the contract.

"Your Majesty, if you've changed your mind, we can still retreat to the hideout... Ah."

Gulp.

Gloria swallowed it before Samiel could finish. The thick tentacles slithered down her throat into her stomach. Wiping drool from her lips, she savored the foreign sensation.

"Even knowing those rage-filled soldiers down there... even knowing the tens of millions of imperial citizens waiting for your fall... you still choose this?"

"Yes.....♡"

"It won't end with mere humiliation. Citizens, soldiers, nobles, slaves—every class and rank will pour their hatred upon you. Normally, they'd rip out your nails and limbs, hang you from the walls for days of agony before execution..."

Samiel's voice rose, tinged with excitement.

"But Your Majesty's greatest fortune—and misfortune—is being the empire's most profane creature. You stand higher than any woman in history. You're the ripest, most lascivious fruit of desire in the world. A clean death? Forget it. I'd have killed myself in your place, but..."

Samiel stepped behind Gloria, rope in hand. She bound the empress's arms slowly. Gloria didn't resist. She simply maintained her haughty, regal dignity.

"Seeing you so aroused, I suppose no more warnings are needed. Now—here they come?"

The clash of swords. Shouts. And roars of hatred aimed at Gloria echoed closer.

"Then... Your Majesty. Enjoy the best week of your life. And then, endless despair in torment."

"Oh ho. Oh ho. Oh ho. Oh ho ho hot!"

A repulsive man's laughter boomed from Gloria's castle. An ugly fellow cackled in glee, eyes narrowed in delight. The soldiers who stormed in had seized Gloria, binding her in her own chambers for half an hour. Then he appeared, dismissing the troops.

Short stature. Potbelly. A meticulously groomed, ridiculous mustache. Comical, yet the highest noble—a marquess's man. The true mastermind behind this warlord rebellion. Without noble backing, warlords couldn't move.

His eyes raked over Gloria's form. He'd always fawned over her with that nauseating smile. Once cautious, now he showed no restraint.

His leering gaze met Gloria's icy stare. Kneeling though she was, her skin gleamed from premium baths and care, her body—fed the finest foods—lush and voluptuous. She fidgeted uncomfortably, as if her lewd curves disgusted her. Her dress covered only her belly, leaving breasts, back, and armpits fully exposed.

"To think... I get to touch Your Majesty's body at will...!!"

The fat noble contrasted sharply with Gloria—repulsive, ugly, obese, short, utterly lacking decorum. He approached slowly and groped her breast.

"Oh, ooooo...!!!"

Enraptured by the feel, he fondled her, then extended his tongue to lick and kiss. Gloria closed her eyes, lips pressed tight, enduring it meekly. Revolting. Filthy. Grotesque. And... a faint thrill. Her pussy twitched faintly.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet real. She couldn't feel her life truly ending. She glared down coldly. Oblivious, he buried his nose in her cleavage.

"Beyond any whore! Oooh! Ooooo! Oh ho ho ho hot!!"

"Lord Royn Croy, Duke... Was revolting against ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me just for this?"

He bellowed in excitement at her words.

"Just? You call it just? Do you even realize how beautiful you are, Your Majesty? People crave to defile beauty. Like plucking a flower at a cliff's edge!!"

With that, he slid a finger toward her pussy, brushing her prominent mound. Gloria's brow furrowed at the thick hand grazing her sex.

"Ooh! Oh ho hot! Gloria! That disgusted look is priceless! But you won't wrinkle that brow for long! You're destined to become a magnificent 'work of art'."

He tore at her dress with his hands. The fabric supporting her breasts ripped away, then the cloth over her pussy. And then—he spotted the tattoo on her abdomen, eyes widening.

"This... a cow brand...?"

Over a decade ago, as a princess indulging in deviance, Gloria had gotten it inked. Cow. Sow. Proof of her livestock status—subhuman slave.

"No... a slave...? Hoo? No way. Your Majesty... such perverse tastes?!"

Gloria grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut. This... this was embarrassing.

"A noble-blooded empress wouldn't mark herself as slave-livestock. Puh... Pu ha ha ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hat! Why that sour face? Aren't you enjoying it? Looking forward to it?"

Her cheeks flushed faintly. He was right. It was all coming out. Starting with this noble, soon every one of the empire's tens of millions would know—Gloria the pervert, the hopeless masochist who branded her own womb as livestock.

No, it wouldn't end with knowing. Shock, disgust, confusion. Then mockery and contempt. That she defined herself as sub-beast, aroused by it—a monster unfit even for empress.

"Ho ho! Oh ho ho ho hot! I wanted you in my bed, but this level of perversion? Even I'd balk. Hey, soldiers! Search the empress's chambers—leave no speck of dust untouched!"

".............♡"

Gloria's pussy twitched. Goosebumps prickled her skin. Her heart pounded wildly. No one had ever entered the depths of her bedroom. There lay countless secrets: novels and tales for her masturbation. Reports on exhibited women. Their photo albums. And... recently popularized magic-engineering space recorders. Plus... dildos and anal beads of every shape. Nipple stimulators. Tentacle toys. Orgasm-squirting magic tools. Dozens of cherished perversions.

Things that must never be known—now laid utterly bare. And those too... would be exposed to the world.

Gloria's skin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crawled as if flayed. More thrilling than any past deviance. No—thrilling didn't cover it. From the highest peak, she plummeted into the abyss, bound for endless depths.

No time to fix her torn clothes. Bound, she couldn't move an inch. Her voluptuous body writhed as she swallowed hard. She felt the bio-magic bomb squirming in her gut. Samiel had said she could choose death if she wanted.

—But Gloria had no intention of choosing death.