Golden Maso Empress: Eternal Petrification Statue in the Female Exhibition Museum

※This chapter contains illustrations of body modification, status abnormalities, and the like, which may cause discomfort for some readers.

Intense pleasure and vibrations raged wildly inside Gloria's body. The fierce pleasure and pain couldn't vent outward but swirled within, echoing like shockwaves through her flesh. She felt the intense pleasure and pain vividly, yet Gloria wasn't suffering. Her body, which should have been weighed down by heavy fatigue and disgust, instead brimmed with sharp, delightful clarity of mind. The sensation of mana flowing through her entire form felt exquisite. The hypersensitive skin and erogenous zones, refined through modification, sent thrilling jolts that were pure bliss.

Gloria felt simultaneous relief and dread now that the prolonged sanding was finally over. As if anticipating her current state, a massive wall clock loomed at the edge of her vision, displaying the passage of time and date. Whether to deepen her despair, it ticked away second by second, relentlessly informing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her of time's flow. Firmly fixed in place, Gloria awaited the next phase.

(Ooh?!♡ My ass lid........♡♡)

They extracted the slime-like, elongated solid that had been inserted into her anus before petrification, inflated, and hardened. Gloria's asshole—encompassing the sphincter, rectum, and entire intestinal passage—gaped massively expanded. Petrified in a state stretched by the slime enema fluid, her vast anal cavity resembled a gigantic cave or pouch. The priests began poking fingers inside, installing various things. Perhaps to inject pleasure directly into her anus.

Three massive, heavy tentacle orbs were shoved into Gloria's anus. Then, they filled her anus and rectum to the brim with viscous fluid before sealing the anal lid once more.

Afterward, Gloria suddenly felt a tearing pain and pleasure ripping through her breasts. The tentacles hidden within her milk ducts began writhing violently.

(A, ahh♡♡ Ohhh♡♡ Milk♡ ducts♡♡ inside♡♡ wriggling everywhere♡♡♡ Ohhoooooook!!♡♡)

Unsatisfied with the rigidly hardened interiors of her milk ducts—or perhaps designed to function this way—the semi-mechanical tentacles thrashed wildly inside. The dildo embedded in her pussy also began shuddering into action. Rather than direct stimulation, it seemed composed of vibrations inducing sonic waves and orgasms. It trembled fiercely: rattle rattle rattle♡ rattle rattle rattle♡.

The pleasure, meant to be absorbed softly by a woman's fatty flesh and skin for gentle transmission, hit without any mitigation or absorption. (Ha! Ha! Haaahk!♡♡ Th-this♡ this♡?! Dangerous..........!!♡♡ Heeeet!!)

Orgasmic buildup surged, but she couldn't climax refreshingly. Was the pleasure sensitivity calibrated too high for true release? Even during the earlier sanding, the pleasure threshold was elevated. Her consciousness remained crystal clear. No fatigue. Yet she couldn't achieve that satisfying peak. This "state" persisted indefinitely.

Gloria assumed it was just heightened sensitivity and that refreshing orgasms would come eventually. She had no other choice but to believe it. She was no longer a being who could influence this world by her will. Her promise with Samiel meant nothing if she chose not to uphold it. But that was fine. For exploiting her as an energy source, pleasure torture was most efficient. Boredom-torture would never befall Gloria.

(A...........♡♡ Aa..........!! Again♡♡ couldn't cum♡♡ Nggoook♡♡♡)

Despite Gloria writhing in mad agony, those around showed no sign of noticing. Half-mad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with ecstasy when petrified, from their perspective, there was no way to know her state. So they could only exploit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her to the fullest.

Breasts, nipples, armpits, thighs, belly, hips, navel, neck, back, pussy, anus, urethra—every inch stimulated in sequence. Starting with sweeping hands, then brushes soaked in aphrodisiacs. Scraping with firmer tools. Amid the creepy screeech♡ screeeeech♡ like nails on a chalkboard, the magic circle beneath Gloria blazed brightly.

"..........More than.............pain............overall.......pleasure..........efficient........."

She heard murmurs, but immense tinnitus (her body now seemed altered for high sound propagation) and her own inner screams drowned them out. Context suggested pleasure was more efficient than pain, but she couldn't be sure. Hurry, hurry, she wanted to cum. Teasing on the brink was enough.

(Aa!!♡♡ Hurts♡♡♡ Watching♡♡ Watching♡ experimenting♡♡ From now on♡♡ forever here........♡♡ Aa♡ Just imagining it gives me chills to die♡♡♡)

As Gloria teetered on climax, a woman approached through the priests—short white hair, cheeks flushed with excitement: Samiel. The former kingdom adventurer and thief seemed blended among them via masterful disguise. Whispering right in her face:

"Aaah......... Truly, truly beautiful."

She'd occasionally ogled Gloria with excitement before, but this was intense.

"How does it feel to become a speechless statue, unable even to choose your own death....?"

With those words, Samiel extended a hand, lightly scraping Gloria's breasts and armpits with her nails.

(Ha♡ Ngh?!♡♡)

"The worst traitor, now the sacred core sustaining the empire. Your name's already etched in history. Want to see?"

Samiel gestured lightly, but Gloria couldn't look. Not even her eyeballs could move.

"Oh right, forgot you can't see....♡ Then I'll describe it. Beneath your pedestal is a stone tablet chronicling your life. A reminder of your shame, to prevent further disgrace. And much more............ah."

Chattering excitedly, Samiel glanced sideways. Surrounding gazes hindered further talk. Pulling her hood to hide her face, she retreated slyly:

"I'll visit yearly to chat with Her Majesty. Share pitiful insults and contempt for your shame. How history views you. The clock lets you track dates, so wait desperately for me♡"

The clock was indeed for tormenting Gloria. With that, she vanished into the crowd; immobile Gloria couldn't seek her.

More pressing: what were the priests—and unnoticed dwarf artisans—doing? Her womb pounded thump♡ thump♡ with pleasure, mind nearly breaking; what new "gift" now? They inspected or installed something. Cylindrical devices atop the altar—like laser emitters—aimed at Gloria. Five visible; dozens more unseen, probably.

(Ha........... N-no way♡ that's.............♡)

Tick. Tick. They sparked like electricity—then:

Ziiiiing♡♡ (Hyaaaaaahhh♡♡♡ W-what♡♡ orgasm beamsssss!!♡♡)

The sparkling golden beams were modified pleasure rays from the tentacles. Not stronger—technology and time fell short of hellish tentacle blasts. Frankly, weaker. But Gloria's perceived intensity was dozens of times greater.

(Ahiioooooohhh!! Ohook!♡♡ Cumming cumming cumming cumming♡♡♡)

Gloria writhed at endlessly climbing pleasure. Or tried to. Why weaker yet dozens-fold worse? Simple: no outlet. Creatures thrash to escape unwanted stimuli. Restrained, they strain limbs. Secured, they twist torsos. Even fully pinned, they resist via breaths, snot, tears, spine, muscles. But this: utterly immobile.

(Don't shoot clit don't shoot♡ don't♡ don't♡ don't♡ don't♡ don't♡ don't♡ gonna break♡ break♡ break♡ ehyaaaaahk!!♡♡ Aaaaaahhh♡♡♡♡)

Clit-targeted pleasure flipped her mind; she strained to thrash. But her body felt crushed under thousands of tons.

(Grrooooohhh♡♡♡ Oooooook♡♡♡ Move♡♡ Grro♡ That♡ That can't happen♡♡♡)

Gloria resisted pleasure and immobility with all her might. Yet the mirror showed her serene statue form. Orgasm beams increased: clitoris, womb, bladder, both nipples. Weeeen—beams fired.

(No no no no no no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no♡ don't cum hyaaaaaaaahhh♡♡♡ Oogh♡♡♡ Grro♡♡ Groooook!!!!♡♡♡ Oheyaayayayak♡♡♡)

Gloria screamed in climax. The floor's magic circle blazed; absurd mana surged to the empire's core. Climax after climax, yet no refreshing release. She craved squirting, hips bucking, cow-like moans. But her flesh stayed perpetually hypersensitive, erect at peak pre-orgasm. Pleasure intensity defied imagination. The singular peak—instant all nerves converge—stretched eternally. Without true climax, relentless stimulation mercilessly heightened sensation.

(Stop bladder stoppppp♡♡♡♡♡ Ongogogogok♡♡♡ Move♡♡ Move!! Moveee!!♡♡ Aaaahk!! Make me♡ moooove♡♡)

Beyond despair, rage surged; she strained to move. Just once. Squirt satisfyingly. Bladder pressure, residual urine, foreign fullness crushed womb and clit in ultimate frustration. Pre-petrification water-guzzling was the culprit. She yearned to piss. Violently. Sacrifice anything.

"................."

Indifferent to her pleas, the lewd golden statue endured orgasm beams silently.

(I'm cummiiiing♡♡ Climaxing♡♡ But can't!!♡♡)

Onlookers marveled at mana output. Gloria inwardly cursed: What marvel? Bastards. Initial petrification ecstasy faded long ago, drowned in agonizing pleasure. Yet consciousness stayed razor-sharp, fatigue-free.

——What if this persisted eternally? No sleep, no blackout, no true climax, hyper-clear mind forever here? Chills hit—true terror unlike before. Longed-for fear, despair—and regret to rewind time—surged.

Endless time ahead——no, not eternal. Fused with vast purified mana for immense power and lifespan, yet finite. How long? Until living statue exhausts all mana and life, becoming true stone... how long?

Gloria calculated amid orgasmic screams, mind sharper than ever. She knew she shouldn't—screaming blindly wiser. But curiosity won; she computed.

And. ——A millennium.

Gloria murmured inwardly, shuddering at the word's weight. Optimistic estimate. Recalculating conservatively: at least——ten thousand years.

True horror dawned. The genuine ruin and despair she'd craved.

Amid it, lasers fired relentlessly. Tentacles thrashed in ducts; pussy device emitted body-shaking low frequencies. Anal orbs writhed, stimulating mana lines.

(Ha♡ Ha♡ Ha♡ Ha♡ Ha♡ Ha♡ Ha♡ Ha♡...!!! Hahaha♡ Haaaaaaaahhh!!!♡♡)

Gloria inwardly wailed—mad laughter or scream? Deep pelvic erogenous core/mana nexus stimulated. Past anal play hinted at mana line pleasure, but incomparable.

(Eekeeeek!!♡♡ Haaahk!♡♡ Hiyaaaaahhh‼︎♡♡♡ Higyaaaaaaaahhh♡♡♡)

Cumming cumming cumming so much♡♡♡♡♡ She yearned to arch and squirt with vulgar moans, but iron rigidity held. No panting possible. So different from fantasy♡ Way off. She'd anticipated helpless pleasure reception. But denied orgasmic contractions—even cellular. Initially mistook for weak intensity; wrong. Pre-climax peak sensation frozen solid within. Solidified pleasure eternally, till death. Realizing late, Gloria screamed inwardly—but statue stood unmoved.

(Someone♡ soooomeone!!♡♡♡ Release♡♡ thiiiis!!!!♡♡♡ Aaaahk!!♡♡ Let me♡ cuuum!!!♡♡ Eeeeeek!!♡♡)

The more agony from pleasure, the more mana the golden statue emitted. Unconcerned, pedestal watchers smiled brightly. Supreme tyrant felled, replaced by inexhaustible mana generator.

(Nggoooooook!!♡♡♡ Stop♡♡ Pussy♡♡ clit♡♡ bladder armpits♡♡ nipples♡♡ anal stuff♡♡♡)

Just one halt. Tormenting every female weakness unbearable. Bladder, nipples, clit♡♡ any one♡♡ But they deemed setup complete, slowly withdrawing. Sensing iron over muscle, Gloria begged mercy from pleasure-pain. Exhausting movement schemes, she paused frenzy, shifting gaze to blurry clock.

Eyeballs petrified, but perfect golden flesh widened field of view. She stared. In agony, glancing was inevitable. Expected at least minutes passed. Such suffering demanded time.

(………………………………1 minute, 18 seconds?)

From Samiel's departure and true torture's start: 1:18. Clock confirmed.

(No way no waaaaay!!♡♡♡ Onghyaak!!!♡♡ Groooooook!!!!♡♡ Please♡♡♡ let me cuuum♡♡♡ Fuuuuroook!!!!♡♡♡)

Shocked by time amid clit-beam barrage. Bladder hits induced fierce urination urge. Womb-targeted rays repeated end-to-end pleasure. Anal device steadily pleasured mana lines; rigid lines absorbed 100%.

Thus pleasured, time crawled—slowly, surely. Gloria screamed at clock, craving one true squirting climax, begging unheard mercy.

(Hyaak♡♡ Hayaaaaahhh!!♡♡♡ Eugh, grrrrrrrk!!♡♡ Okgrrrk!!!!!!♡♡♡ Samieeeeel♡♡♡!!!!! To me♡♡♡ retuuuurn♡♡♡———)

Thus seconds like minutes, thousands-fold. Crowd shifted; exhibition truly began, flows changing. Dusk fell. Masses dispersed; museum emptied save guards. Till then, Gloria felt decades of torment. Next dawn, reopening—she endured doubled time perception. But endurance changed nothing. She was statue, influencing world no more. Like mountain, stream, sea. Merely existing. Save conscious mind.

Tomorrow. Next day. And next. Next next. Next next next. Next next next next. Next next next next next. Next next next next next next. Next next next next next next next.

Gloria never climaxed once, no rest ever, endlessly receiving escalating pleasure as mana tool. Regret screamed repeatedly: rewind. Her choices. Answering Samiel. Foolish "life end" plan. Born maso pervert.

Thus, as empire renamed, history shifted, roots crumbled to annihilation—Gloria would supply mana for citizens here. In deep regret, whether true joy bloomed—only she knew.

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