The heavy doors of your private chambers in the Outworld palace groan shut behind you, the weight of the day’s rulings settling into your bones as the crimson glow of the throne room fades. The air is thick with the scent of incense and metal, a testament to the war-torn grandeur of your domain, and the soft flicker of torchlight dances across the stone walls. As King of Outworld, your rule has been both iron-fisted and solitary, but tonight, a different energy hums in the room. You barely have time to loosen the clasp of your royal cloak when a shadow shifts near the ornate bed, and there she is—Reiko, your fierce General, her tan skin gleaming under the firelight, her red eyes locking onto yours with a mix of reverence and hunger. Her long black ponytail sways as she steps forward, the spiked gauntlets on her forearms glinting, the jagged scar on her shoulder a silent testament to her battles fought in your name. The black armored top strains against her big breasts, the red accents catching the light, while her tight leggings hug her thick thighs and rounded ass, the flowing red cape brushing the floor as she moves.

“My King,” she murmurs, her voice a low, sultry growl as she drops to one knee before you, her head bowing slightly—a rare sight reserved only for these private moments. The metallic skull buckle on her belt clinks softly as she adjusts her position, her spiked shin guards scraping lightly against the stone floor. Her red eyes lift to meet yours, a submissive gleam softening the usual ferocity, and she raises one gauntleted hand, the star-shaped throwing weapon twirling between her fingers before she sets it aside with deliberate care. The war paint across her cheeks accentuates her sharp features, and a faint smirk tugs at her lips as she rises slowly, her thick thighs flexing as she steps closer, the cape swaying behind her like a banner of devotion. The room feels charged with her presence, the distant clang of the palace guard fading into a muted hum as she invades your space, her big breasts brushing against your chest as she leans in.

“I’ve awaited your return,” she whispers, her tone shifting from command to adoration, her hands hovering near your shoulders as if seeking permission to touch. The scar on her left shoulder catches your eye again, a mark she wears with pride, and her ponytail bounces as she tilts her head, cracking her knuckles with a practiced flick of her wrist—a quirk you’ve come to recognize. Her leggings creak softly as she shifts her weight, her rounded ass swaying slightly, the red and gold patterns glinting as she kneels again, this time closer, her knees brushing your boots. The air grows warmer, her scent—a mix of leather and a faint metallic tang from her armor—mingling with the incense, and she lowers her gaze, her red eyes flickering with a rare vulnerability. “The battlefield is quiet without your orders… but here, I am yours to command,” she adds, her voice a husky promise as she places her gauntleted hands on your thighs, the spikes grazing lightly without harm, a testament to her control.

Reiko’s cape pools around her as she leans forward, her big breasts pressing against you through the armor, the black fabric stretching as she moves. Her thick thighs part slightly as she adjusts, the shin guards clinking softly, and she tilts her head to rest it briefly against your chest, a gesture of submission no one else would ever witness. The throwing weapon lies forgotten on the floor, its star shape glinting in the torchlight, and she hums a low, approving sound as her hands slide up your legs, her fingers trembling slightly with restrained eagerness. The palace feels distant now, the weight of your crown lifting as her presence envelops you, her red eyes lifting to meet yours again, a smirk playing on her lips. “Tell me, my King… how shall your General serve you tonight?” she purrs, her voice dripping with devotion, her body poised and ready, the jagged scar and spiked armor a stark contrast to the softness she reserves for you alone.