"Oyy! Can you keep the candle straight!?" Vicky's frustrated roar echoed through the office, making the shadows dance on the walls.

"It's crooked."

"I am keeping it straight."

SMACK!

Vicky didn't bother replying with words; she just smacked my ass, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

"Ouch! You bitch! That's abuse!" I yelped, trying to look indignant while still maintaining the incredibly awkward and vulnerable position I was in.

I was standing... but upside down. My hands were on the floor, my feet pointing towards the ceiling, my body bent in a perfect, if precarious, handstand. In this inverted state, I was supposed to be holding a long, black candle, keeping it perfectly vertical.

And where do you think the black candle was? In my ass, of course.

The other end was lodged deep inside me, the wax coating a cool, slick intrusion, while the flame at the top burned with a steady, unwavering light, dripping hot wax onto my lower back every few seconds. The sensation was... weird. A mix of fullness, heat, and a strange, tingly anticipation.

"Ow! Ah! Vicky, the wax is dripping on my tailbone!" I hissed, my arms trembling slightly as I tried to keep my balance. It wasn't that I lacked strength—I was a literal goddess in the making—but holding a candle in your backside while inverted really tested your core stability.

"Good. It builds character," Vicky muttered, her gaze fixed on the reports on the desk. "And stop whining. You have a divine body. A little hot wax isn't going to scar you."

"It's the principle of the thing!" I retorted, blood rushing to my head, making my lazy grin feel a little loopier than usual. "I just populated an entire village's worth of elves, and my reward is being treated like a glorified candelabra?"

"You lost the bet, slut. A bet is a bet." Vicky didn't even look up from the scroll she was reading, her claws tapping an impatient rhythm on the polished obsidian of my desk. "Now, be a good candle holder and be quiet. This is important."

It was about the facilities that Vicky and Arwen planned to build outside the city walls, such as mines, ports, roads, etc. We needed to show the rest of the world that we weren't just some backwater cult with a mysterious leader. We were a civilization. A budding, violent, and 'slightly' horny civilization.

"Still crooked," she announced, her eyes still glued to the scroll.

"It's not crooked, you overgrown lizard! The floor is uneven!"

SMACK!

Another yelp tore out of me. The candle jerked, sending a fat drop of wax straight onto my spine. The sting made my whole body twitch, and I felt the thick length shift inside me. The sensation was obscene—cool wax coating my inner walls while the flame danced right above my exposed ass.

"Keep. It. Straight." Vicky's voice was a low growl, but I could hear the amusement underneath. She was enjoying this. Way too much.

"You're just looking for an excuse to spank me," I grumbled, trying to steady my breathing.

"Maybe," she purred. "Or maybe I just really like seeing your ass in the air with a candle sticking out of it. It's artistic."

The dragon bitch didn't stop at the candle, NOO!

My whole body was used... Well, I really don't have a word for it. A toolbox?

My toes were used to hold a quill, my breasts were used to hold some scrolls, my mouth was used as a footrest for her, and my cock was used to hold her mug of ale.

And worst of all, she used my pussy to... to act as lube when her fingers got dry from writing all those stupid reports.

'Note to self: make her chair come alive and bite her ass next time she sits on it.'

I was just standing there in a very shameful... no, a very 'artistic' pose.

"Haaah... Vicky, if you drip any more ink near my toes, I'm signing the decree to tax your shoe collection into bankruptcy," I muttered around her foot.

Her leather boot was resting right on my jaw, not crushing me—she knew better than to test my divine durability like that—but just heavy enough to keep my head pinned to the floor. It tasted faintly of dirt and premium leather, a flavor profile I wasn't entirely thrilled about.

"Quiet down, toolbox. I'm calculating the timber costs for the new shipyard," Vicky grunted. Her sharp claws dipped right into my pussy, swirling around in the slick warmth I couldn't help but generate before she rubbed her fingers together, using my own juices to smoothly turn the page of a particularly thick ledger.

"Mmm, perfect. You're a very efficient moisture strip, Sis."

"I am a goddess!" I tried to yell, but it came out as a muffled gurgle against her throat. "Not your personal stationery set!"

"A goddess who lost a bet," she corrected, reaching out to grab the mug of ale balanced perfectly on my hard, throbbing cock. It took a ridiculous amount of core strength to keep it steady while upside down, the cold metal of the mug contrasting sharply with my heat. She took a long, deep swig, letting out a satisfied sigh that blew hot breath over my inner thighs.

"And a very useful one at that. See? No spills."

This was hell. Or a very, very specific kind of heaven I wasn't ready to admit to. My pride was taking a beating, but my body… my traitorous body was humming. The combination of helplessness, the constant pressure of the candle, the casual use of my body, it was all… a lot. A dangerous lot.

"...You know," she mused, tapping the quill against her chin, "from an artistic standpoint, this might actually be your best look yet."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"...I hate that you're right," I grumbled, giving in. She knew me too well.

Just as Vicky took another deliberate sip from her mug, the door to the office swung open without a knock. I froze, every muscle tensing. In this position, with my legs spread and my entire… toolkit… on display, being caught was a level of humiliation even I hadn't braced for.

It was Ember.

She took one step inside, her fiery eyes sweeping the room. They landed on Vicky, then on the me-shaped piece of furniture holding up her office supplies, and then back on Vicky.

Her expression didn't change. There was no shock, no surprise, not even a flicker of amusement. It was a look of absolute, professional indifference.

"Report on the quarry expansion," Ember said, her voice flat as a stone, walking over and handing Vicky a rolled-up parchment. She didn't even glance my way. It was like I was just another piece of furniture. A sentient, blushing, candle-wielding piece of furniture.

"Good," Vicky grunted, taking the report with her free hand while still balancing the mug. "Make sure to secure the perimeter with fire runes. I don't want any goblins thinking they can burrow into our stone."

"Understood," Ember said, gave a short, sharp nod, and turned to leave. As she reached the door, she paused, her head tilting slightly.

"The candle is a little crooked to the left, Mother."

The door clicked shut.

My face was on fire. I had fought gods, given birth to an entire race, and now I was being critiqued on my candle-holding posture by my own daughter, Ember.

Vicky's laughter was a low, rich rumble that vibrated right through her boot and into my skull.

"See? Even she has an eye for art. Now..."

SMACK!

"AH! That's it! When this bet is over, I'm going to fuck the shit out of you so hard you'll be walking bow-legged for a week!"

"Promise?" she purred, finally setting the mug aside and leaning back in her chair, her crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "But you still have a few minutes left on the clock. And I have one last task for my favorite multipurpose tool."

"What do you mean by a few minutes?" I shot back, trying to crane my neck to see her. "You only consumed four hours! The bet was for a full 20 hours!"

"Exactly!" Vicky smiled. "I decided to let you go and claim the remaining 20 hours later when I have the time."

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!!"

"A bet is a bet, you didn't say that I must consume my reward all in one go, right?"

The sheer, unadulterated smugness in her tone made my blood boil. She was enjoying this. Every. Single. Second.

The dragon bitch leaned back in the chair with the self-satisfied expression of someone who had just discovered a loophole in reality itself.

"You can't just pause a punishment like it's some kind of vacation package!" I barked, still upside down, candle wobbling dangerously as my outrage made my muscles clench. "That's cheating!"

"It's strategic resource management," Vicky corrected smoothly, flipping another page in the ledger. "Very important for rulers."

"Strategic my ass!"

SMACK!

"OW!"

"The candle tilted again," she hummed, then stood up, stretching like a massive, contented cat. She walked around me, her boots making soft thuds on the stone floor. She stopped in front of my upside-down face, her hands on her hips, looking down at me with a smirk that could curdle milk.

"It's almost over anyway, so I'll let you off with one final task for now."

She knelt, her face now level with mine. The predatory glint was back in her eyes, brighter and hotter than before. She reached out, her claws gently tracing the line of my jaw.

"Your task," she whispered, her breath hot on my face, "is to lick my boot clean."

"Fuck you!"

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