Yang Xiao-Long

It was just Yang left now, not that she knew it. As Whitley steps out into the training yard with a slight smile on his face, he wonders briefly just how the blonde bombastic bombshell would react to finding out the truth. What would she do, if he brought her inside, confronted her with everyone, and laid out the fact that he now controlled those she loved and cared for?

Probably attack. Whitley didn't have to be any particular shade of genius to know that much. It was almost laughably obvious that Yang wasn't a big thinker, but more of an all-around doer. If she saw a threat, she tried to fight it, plain and simple. While it could be amusing to watch her rail against the inevitable, eventually falling to his sisters and her teammates… Whitley felt it better to just be subtle with this.

He knew full well by this point that battles between huntresses could have collateral damage, and while the mansion itself could be repaired, its staff might get hurt, and that Whitley would not allow. He was very possessive of his toys after all. If anyone was going to hurt any of them, it would be him, it would be calculated, and there would be a very good reason for it.

Even watching Yang Xiao-Long now, sparring with his sister, Whitley could tell he was making the right decision there. Yang was collateral damage personified, and the training field was already pock-marked with craters from the blows she was delivering… or trying to deliver anyways. It wouldn't be right to necessarily call what was happening a spar between Yang and Winter, if he was being honest.

Yang was fighting… while Winter was just standing off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest, watching the exchange. Walking up beside his older sister, Whitley very casually reaches out and cups Winter's ass. The gorgeous white-haired woman freezes up at that, but upon seeing it's him, she relaxes into his grip, her face a mask of steely professionalism, not showing any of the arousal he KNOWS she's feeling right now.

"How is she?"

"Reckless. You won't be beaten by her."

Winter's analysis is curt and to the point, but if Whitley is honest, he kind of likes that about his sister. Waiting until Yang is particularly distracted by Winter's summons, facing off against three of them at once, Whitley reaches up and laces his fingers through his older sister's hair, dragging her down forcibly to level with his face so that he can kiss her just as forcibly, right on the lips.

She moans then, as their tongues intertwine, but Whitley only holds the kiss for a second, knowing that Yang could look over to see if Winter approved of her progress at any moment. When he pulls back, Winter very nearly tries to move with him, her subconscious causing her to lean forward, her reshaped mind wanting more of him, wanting ALL of him. But Whitley just steps away from her, giving his older sister a wink and a grin as she stays where she is, now just a little flushed red, the façade she had up slightly cracked.

"Ms. Xiao-Long!"

At his call, Winter's summons pull back and Yang no longer has anything to fight. She turns to him, blinking as some of the energy, both metaphorical and literal, bleeds out of her.

"Oh, hey. Uh, Whitley, right?"

Grinning roguishly, Whitley waves a hand casually.

"Only if I get to call you Yang."

The blonde laughs at that, crossing her arms under her substantial chest and framing it for him. Whether she was doing that on purpose or not, Whitley wasn't drawn in. He'd have all the time in the world to play with her chest soon enough. For now, it was all about Yang the woman. Her violet eyes and the feelings that lay within them were much more important to him than a simple pair of tits, no matter how large those tits were.

"Course you can. Your Weiss' brother after all. So, what's up?"

Whitley just smiles.

"Well, it's about that time of the day where I do what you were just doing, sparring against Winter's summons. They make for excellent practice, don't they?"

Yang blinks in surprise at that.

"Yeah, yeah they do. Huh, didn't peg you as the hunter-type. Sorry, I guess I'm in your way? I'll get out of your hair and go find Ruby or something."

Before she can leave however, Whitley raises a hand to stop her, still smiling as he shakes his head.

"You misunderstand me, Yang. I apologize, it was not my intention to make it seem like I'm kicking you off the field. Winter would be more than capable of producing enough summons for both of us to spar with, and there's plenty of space out here that there would be no reason for us to step on each other's toes."

Yang glances around, arms still crossed, and slowly nods. It seemed she'd gotten the same impression already but wasn't going to argue with the guy who owned the place about who could and could not use the training field and his sister's constructs as sparring partners. That was good, that she was already willing to bow and bend on such a thing.

"Alright, so what IS your intention?"

For a moment, Whitley considers just blurting out that he intends to fuck her like he's fucked her sister and her two other teammates. But such temptations are something he always has to deal with. He doesn't let them get the better of him, not when he has a plan that would be ruined by giving in.

"Rather than fighting Winter's constructs, why don't we spare each other? I have it on good authority from my sister that we should actually be rather close in skill level. You obviously have more practical experience fighting Grimm, but I have been adequately trained."

For a moment, Yang just blinks at him owlishly. Then, a slow wicked grin spreads across her face.

"You sure about that? I like to play rough, you know."

Whitley chuckles and shrugs his shoulders.

"I'm sure you do. Nonetheless, the offer stands."

Licking her lips, Yang considers for one moment more before uncrossing her arms, her hands curled into fists and loaded at her sides.

"Alright then. I'm game."

Whitley just smiles. This was going to be fun.

-x-X-x-

Everyone has assembled for the spar, amusingly enough. They have a rather large audience, including all of Team RWBY, as well as his sister, his mother, and his thralls, old and new. Facing off from Yang, Whitley considers how to best start off. He was no master at any particular combat style, compared to someone like Yang or Ruby who fought in a very specific way, spurred on by their specific semblances.

Whitley was more of a tactician, a jack of all trades, so to speak. To compensate for the fact that his semblance was more focused on the mastering of the people around him rather than anything that could help him in a real fight, Whitley had assembled and commissioned a personal array of weapons for all sorts of combat scenarios.

To start with, his overcoat itself, which he now wore as he faced off with Yang, was tricked out enough to be classified as a hunter's weapon, or at the very least, hunter's equipment. The overcoat, which he'd named Sturmblute, not only kept his body temperature perfect in nearly any environment, it also carried a ridiculous amount of limited-ammo pistols, each equipped with a different type of dust for any given situation.

On top of that, the pistols were all rigged with dust charges, set to explode and allowing the empty pistols to serve one last time as either elaborate grenades or disguised trap bombs that would end up strewn across a battlefield as the time went on. The entire loadout was mainly used for multiple enemies, or a powerful opener to keep a single enemy off balance while setting up to control the field from the very beginning.

Of course, when he needed to get up close and personal, or more accurately, when he needed to defend himself from fighters who wanted to get up close and personal, he had Bestauber and Periwinkle. Bestauber's default mode was a buckler on his arm, but it could reconfigure into a sword, or even extend further and take up the chain-lance configuration, which could be rigid or bend and flex at will in order to create a whiplash effect. Bestauber also had one last hidden secret in the form of an embedded dart gun that fired stamp-like darts to tag his opponents with his glyphs. Periwinkle, meanwhile, was a parrying dagger that could convert to three different configurations. Namely, Main-gauche, Trident, and Swordbreaker.

Finally, as a last resort, there was Eisenfaust. They appeared as very decorative gauntlets that allowed Whitley to sheathe his bladed weapons in their default modes… but they were also technologically advanced, high-powered gloves that allowed him to hack and take control of digital technology such as computers, scrolls, and even robots. In battle, those same gloves also had multi-dust vial containment, similar to Weiss' Myrtenaster.

Altogether, his kit made him incredibly formidable on the battlefield. In comparison, Yang had her shotgun gauntlets and a semblance that let her give as good as she got. That was the problem though. If she DIDN'T get dealt enough damage, how was she ever going to properly fight back?

"You all ready to go now, Whitley? That's a pretty fancy set up you've got there. How much did it cost?"

Whitley just chuckles at the minor dig. The implication being that he had to rely on technology because he didn't have the same skill as her or her teammates. The vicious grin on Yang's face tells him she knows exactly what she's doing too. It's almost cute, watching her try to throw him off by making him angry before the battle can even begin.

"I'm ready, Yang. Would you like to make the first move?"

"It would be my pleasure."

And without another word, she's springing forward through the air, fist cocked back and ready to come down on him. Of course, Whitley doesn't let her hit him. Instead, he whips to the side right as she lands, the force of her blow cratering the ground, but he's already slightly in the air. A pistol comes out from within Sturmblute, and the muzzle presses against the side of Yang Xiao-Long's head.

"Bang."

And then he fires, blasting her away from him. She has aura, just as he does, meaning a dust bullet to the side of the skull does nothing more than send Yang pinwheeling away by about twenty feet. He's not worried about injuring her… given this is a spar, Winter has set up the aura-reading board, and both of their auras are nice and healthy on the hologram that currently hovers up in midair.

No, Yang isn't injured by his opening salvo… merely spitting mad as she jumps back to her feet.

"Thought you were letting me have first shot?"

Whitley cocks his head to the side, and then lifts an eyebrow for good measure as he smiles patronizingly.

"I said you could have the first move, Yang. I didn't ever say I would just let you hit me. What kind of hunter would I be if I just LET people hit me?"

This time, the dig is directed at her, and just like he did, Yang immediately picks up on it. However, unlike Whitley, Yang Xiao-Long has a bit of a… mm, hair-trigger temper. With the power her semblance had absorbed from his first shot, Yang growls and slams her fists together, before charging in again, her strength unquestionable as she aims to get close and personal.

Whitley lets her, not bothering with any more of Sturmblute's functions. Yang Xiao-Long was perhaps the worst opponent for that particular set of weaponry. Continuing to hit her with dust rounds would certainly overwhelm her eventually, but in the meantime, she would get so much juice to hit him back with that she might actually manage to do some damage. And littering the battlefield with bombs wasn't a very good tactic against someone that, first of all, he wasn't trying to kill, and second of all, could once again absorb the energy from said bombs and turn it back on him.

Instead, Whitley lets Bestauber and Periwinkle fall into his hands as Yang closes the distance. His buckler deflects her first shotgun-infused punch, while his dagger comes up within her guard and drives itself into her stomach, hard enough to draw her back and knock the wind out of her. In the few feet of space he has from this maneuver, Whitley flicks Bestauber out into first its sword configuration, and then it's lance. Periwinkle shifts into the main-gauche configuration. Neither Trident nor Swordbreaker would be needed here, though two were the messy options, and this wasn't likely to get messy.

What follows is something of a showcasing in just how outclassed Yang Xiao-Long is. He doesn't hit her again, not after just managing to glance off of his buckler in that second pass. Whitley doesn't allow it. Instead, he dances around her with ease, dodging here and there, parrying with Periwinkle where necessary. Meanwhile, Bestauber's chain-lance configuration and it's whiplash ability is put to great effect in humiliating the blonde bombshell before him.

In front of the eyes of her teammates, his sister and mother, and the estate staff, Yang Xiao Long is spanked across her tits, cunt, and ass more times than Whitley bothers to keep track of. He starts it off light of course, hitting her across multiple places on her back before moving down to her ass and then back again, as if it could possibly be an accident. Yang still got angrier of course, but she didn't seem to understand what he was doing at first… and then, as time went on, her growing anger seemed to cloud her judgment.

Rather than put an end to things, rather than calling for a halt to call him out on his distinctly dishonorable behavior like the young adults they would soon be, Yang had seemingly decided that she needed to teach him a lesson herself, and the only way she was going to do so was physically, through winning the spar.

Unfortunately for her, winning this spar was so far out of her reach that it wasn't even funny. Well, it was a little funny for Whitley, but distinctly unfunny for one Yang Xiao-Long, who grew more and more furious all the while. Whitley, meanwhile, was enjoying himself immensely. Stage One had gone fabulously, with Yang getting spanked quite literally… now it was time to move onto Stage Two.

Stage Two's arrival was heralded by the softest thwumps as Whitley forces Yang back with periwinkle, and then launches a stamp dart from the end of Bestauber. It hits Yang right in the forehead, amusingly enough, and Whitley's glyph glows there for a moment, before fading away as he grins wickedly and Yang stops dead in her tracks, staring at him with wide eyes.

"… What the hell was that?"

Letting out a soft chuckle, Whitley shrugs and lifts Bestauber up, showing her the expertly hidden blow-dart implant.

"Just my lance's ranged option."

Yang furrows her brow, and then reaches up to rub it for good measure. Too late for that of course, the glyph is very much alive on her flesh, even if its location is one of the more amusing ones Whitley has ever put one. Luckily, they're invisible unless he wills otherwise.

"What does it do?"

Whitley just grins and gestures to the now defunct stamp dart on the ground. Yang glares at him suspiciously but reaches down to pick it up all the same. Staring at the strange configuration at the end, Yang's confusion is evident for all to see, so Whitley goes ahead and explains.

"It allows me to use my semblance, which much like my sisters, is focused on glyphs. Of course, this is just a spar… but if it were a real fight, well… by my count, that would have been the fifth time I would have finished you off, Yang Xiao-Long."

Violet eyes go wide at that particularly sinister declaration. Yang drops the stamp dart as her hands curl back into fists, her teeth gritting together. She snarls at him, even as Whitley stands there nonchalant as all hell, smiling back at her so very casually.

"You… you're not even taking this seriously, are you?"

Whitley shrugs, the tips of his weapons pointed almost insultingly down at the ground.

"No. Were you?"

With a roar, Yang launches herself forward and the battle is rejoined once more. Things continue mostly as they were before. Yang is angrier and more aggressive, sure, but that doesn't suddenly make her anymore able to hit him than before. She's a bit faster, and a lot more reckless in her attacks, but Whitley is a consummate professional, and he knows how to adjust.

More importantly, something does change, this time around. Because of course, he'd said a little fib, back during his explanation. He'd insinuated that he HADN'T used his semblance when he hit her with the glyph-dart, but obviously, he had. He was in Yang's head… and that meant he could do whatever he wanted now. The fight was essentially over, as was Yang's resistance. But there was no reason not to enjoy himself, right?

This time, when his chain-lance lashes across Yang's ass, it doesn't just make her angry. It also makes her feel other things. When he whips her tits or brings the rigid length of the lance up between her legs for a smack against her cunt… Yang reacts somewhat like she did before, but she also begins to freeze up, her face growing red for a reason beyond just sheer rage and fury, her expression growing… embarrassed.

Before, she was able to turn the way he was humiliating her into another source of anger. She was able to focus on her end goal of beating him to redeem herself in the eyes of their very large audience. Now though? Now, each hit is pleasurable pain that Yang doesn't know what to do with. Each smack and slap and spank to her tits, ass, and cunt, are a burst of arousal that Yang can't quite handle, mostly because she's never handled it before.

Honestly, Whitley is a little surprised by how effective the tactic is. He would have expected Yang to be something of a closet masochist, given her semblance. It was what had inspired this route in the first place. But no, it's becoming increasingly obvious that just because her semblance gathered energy from attacks against her, Yang didn't actually enjoy being hit or hurt. At least, she didn't before. Now though, now that his glyph is on her forehead and messing with her mind directly, she's starting to like it. She's starting to like it a lot.

Things come to a head when Whitley does a nice, rather slick move in which he turns a lash across Yang's backside into a slide back through her legs, causing the edge of his lance to dig into her cunt. Thanks to her aura, which he's made sure not to let go below half, Yang isn't actually cut open or anything like that. But there's still a burst of pain from both blows, followed by a spike of pleasure.

The blonde bombshell falls to her knees and cries out, reaching a rather ugly orgasm right in the middle of the training field as everyone else watches on. Not a single member of the audience is particularly shocked, of course. They didn't know his plans, or anything like that, but they all knew what their Master was capable of, and they also knew that Yang was the only one who didn't know the joy of serving him quite yet. So, watching her fall like this, watching her make an utter fool of herself like this… it wasn't too surprising. They all knew it was a part of their Master's plan.

That didn't stop Ruby from feeling a little bad for her older sister though. But she didn't do anything to move to help her. This was between Yang and Master, and soon enough, Yang would join Ruby at their Master's feet. To be honest, the young woman could scarcely wait. She HATED having to hide anything from Yang, especially how amazing it felt to be a good girl and serve the Master.

Meanwhile, Whitley casually approaches his downed foe as she shoves her hands between her legs, as if that would somehow stop the climax currently wracking her body. When his shadow falls over her, she looks up and glares at him, growling through clenched teeth.

"Y-You… what did you do to me?"

Whitley lifts a brow and contemplates her for a moment.

"I beat you, Yang Xiao-Long. And it seems you enjoyed it more than either of us expected."

Yang flushes with shame and humiliation.

"N-No, that's not true. I-!"

Before she can finish whatever, she might have said, Bestauber comes up and the tip slices through both her jacket and her low-cut yellow crop top, causing the two garments to fall away. Her breasts, supported by nothing else, bounce free, each of her large tits capped with a rock-hard nipple, showcasing her arousal for all to see.

Yang lets out a startled cry at the sudden exposure, and her hands come up to block everyone's view of her tits.

"H-How did you-?!"

Her surprise is understandable, given the circumstances. Her aura should have prevented any damage to her clothing after all, just like it was preventing damage to her body. And the aura reader was still online, showing off that while Whitley had taken absolutely no damage to his own aura, and Yang had taken a good fifty percent in comparison, she still should have had fifty percent to go.

And to be fair, she did. But Whitley was in control here, and his semblance was already worming its way through Yang's mind. As everyone knew, if your subconscious didn't perceive a threat, your aura wouldn't activate to protect you from an attack. Whitley now had control over that, as he did everything else.

Slowly, Yang's hands pull away from her chest against her will. Those gorgeous violet eyes go wide as her arms are forced up behind her head, her hands grasping at her elbows in a way that actually shows her naked breasts off FURTHER, rather than drawing attention away from them.

"You… you're doing this!"

"Yes, I am."

And then he reaches out and grabs one of her tits. He's not gentle about it, practically mauling the soft orb of boob flesh, before pulling back and giving it a hefty, hearty smack. Yang's eyes very nearly roll back in her head at this, and she cums on the spot, once again, nearly foaming at the mount as she shakes and trembles. Whitley just chuckles, enjoying himself immensely and continuing to abuse Yang's body to his heart's content, repeating his grope and smack with her other tit, and then grabbing them both and squeezing to the point that tears form in the corners of her eyes, even as Yang moans wantonly, like the pain slut whore that she's become.

Of course, she's not so quickly broken. There's plenty of cursing and anger directed his way, in between the moans. There's also a few cries for help, but none of her team steps up to save her from him, not even her sister. They just watch on, and after a while, Yang seems to realize just how deep into the shit she is, just how far his control over the situation goes.

Her anger fades away and she falls silent for a time, or as silent as she possibly can, which even still, isn't much with him triggering her new masochistic desires again and again. But in the end, all women break, Whitley knows that very well at this point.

"P-Please…"

When the word finally slips from Yang's lips, quiet and barely heard by anyone save for the boy right in front of her, Whitley immediately stops and pulls away. She lets out a whimper of disappointment at that, and he cocks his head at her, grinning wickedly.

"Please what, Yang? What do you want from me?"

A shudder runs through her body, and she closes her eyes as well as pursing her lips, shaking her head back and forth.

"Ah… not quite then? Oh well, guess we'll move on."

It's the work of moments to manhandle Yang into position, forcing her face down into the ground. Her arms remain clasped at the elbows above her head, and her face and tits, red with fingermarks by this point, are pressed into the dirt beneath her. Meanwhile, her ass is raised up before him, and Whitley takes great pleasure in using Periwinkle to rip off her belt and black shorts, exposing her toned behind and her gushing wet cunt to his eyes.

He's not surprised that she's practically drooling back there, not after how many times she'd cum from his abuse of her tits alone. Even now, having her sensitive, roughed-up tits grinding into the dirt had her mewling and her wet pussy slightly agape, flexing with desire. She wanted him inside of her. That's what she wanted. But Whitley wasn't going to just give that to the masochistic bombshell.

Instead, he takes his hand and applies it to Yang's backside quite vigorously, spanking the half-naked blonde pain slut in front of everyone, treating her firm, toned, muscular buttocks like a pair of bongo drums without a care in the world. Yang was no threat to him, not anymore. She was HIS now… he'd just not made her fully aware of that fact quite yet.

Regardless, having her ass beaten by his hands was more than enough to send Yang over the edge again. As soon as she came, he made sure to transfer a palm down to her cunt, delivering a particularly vicious smack to her pussy mound right in the middle of her orgasm, causing a fresh shriek of pained ecstasy to erupt from the blonde masochist.

Whitley keeps this up, alternating between spanking her ass and then smacking her pussy right as she climaxes. This, more than anything else, seems to slowly but surely break Yang Xiao-Long down, until she finally can do nothing but beg brokenly, incoherently, just saying 'please' over and over again. When that finally comes, Whitley stops and pulls back for a moment to open his overcoat and then his trousers, drawing out his painfully erect cock.

"Please what, you masochistic cum dump? What do you want from me?"

Yang shudders and looks back over her shoulder at him with great effort, her violet eyes glazed over with lust and unadulterated ecstasy. But the moment she lays her gaze on his cock, those same eyes light up. For a moment, she does look mulish, as if she's going to continue to resist… but then she just bites her lip and gives in.

"I want… I want your c-cock. I want you i-inside of me."

Of course, she did. Whitley had made sure of that. Smirking, he kneels down behind Yang and places the tip of his member against her drooling entrance, his cockhead rubbing at her slit, even as she mewls and attempts to push back into his length. But he doesn't let her penetrate herself on his cock, no matter how badly she wants it.

"You should know… once I'm inside of you, there's no going back. The moment that you reach climax with my length sheathed in your hot little cunt, you'll belong to me. You'll call me Master, and I will own you… just as I own all of your little friends."

For the first time, Yang's eyes are filled with the horror of understanding. She'd gotten some of what was happening before, knew he was doing something to make everyone seem perfectly fine with everything… but now she's aware that, according to him anyways, he had to FUCK her teammates to make them turn on her. Meaning he fucked her sister.

Whitley sees the moment that this epiphany hits Yang Xiao-Long, because she looks over to Ruby, only to see that all of the rest of Team RWBY, including Yang's sister, is already currently involved in an orgy with his mother, his eldest sister, and the estate staff. Things have gotten rather heated while Yang was focused on her new masochistic tendencies and being abused and used by Whitley.

Eventually, Yang pulls her eyes off of the sight of her own baby sister being eaten out by Weiss, and glares at him. There's anger and rage there, but it's tempered by no small amount of lust and desire. And of course, she can't actually do anything to stop him right now anyways. He's in complete control.

"D-Do your worse, you bastard. I j-just won't cum… and once you're done, I'm gonna put my fist through your fucking face."

Whitley just chuckles.

"You're adorable."

Yang's face scrunches up in irritation at his blatant condescension, but he doesn't let her have a chance to reply. Instead, he just shoves it right in. His cock, which had been waiting at the entrance of her eager little cunt, slams home into the blonde bombshell, just like that. He fills her up with every last inch of his member on that first thrust, not stopping until he's completely sheathed inside of her.

She climaxes on the spot, as it so happens. For all of her last-minute anger and rebellion, for all of her efforts to try to hold back what she knew was coming, Yang Xiao-Long orgasms explosively from the very first thrust Whitley makes into her cunt. Her back arches and she shrieks in pure, utter ecstasy, even as Whitley groans, his length enveloped in her hot velvety depths, which are currently tightening and massaging every last inch of his sizable girth.

After a few moments, Whitley reaches forward and grabs a fistful of Yang's blonde locks, dragging her head back. He chuckles ruefully at the look of sheer, mind-broken bliss on the huntress' face. Her eyes are rolled back in her head, her tongue is lolling out of her mouth, and her lips are drawn into a wide, over-excited smile. He continues to watch, even as she slowly recovers… but when those violet eyes roll forward again and end up focusing on him, Whitley isn't surprised to see that none of the hate or disgust or anger is left in her gaze.

Instead, Yang looks up at him with devotion and adoration filling her violet eyes as she wiggles on his cock, grinding her reddened backside into his crotch and moaning throatily.

"Mm… Master, please fuck me some more. I was such a stupid little bitch before. But now I see…"

Whitley just snorts and gives Yang a slap across her face with his free hand. She gasps and then coos her encouragement.

"Yesss! Hurt me! Beat me! Fuck me up, Master! Pound into me as hard as you want and abuse me all the while! Use this pain-loving bitch of a masochist to your heart's content! Please, I'm begging you, don't let up for even a moment!"

Well that Whitley can do. Grinning at having the green light from the pain slut herself, Whitley proceeds to give Yang exactly what she wants. A nice hard fuck, combined with a beating she'll never forget. She loves it, of course. He smacks her around, he even delivers punches to her sides that cause her to choke on what little air she has left in her. He grabs and grips her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he tenderizes her cunt with the greatest force, he's ever fucked a woman.

Yang takes all of it and more with… well, not with aplomb, because that would be ignoring the fact that she's CONSTANTLY orgasming like the masochistic pig she is, loving every bit of the abuse he's piling onto her, adoring being his horny little pain slut. All the while, her team is watching on, pleasuring one another, being fucked by some of his male servants, fucking each other… there's an orgy going on around Whitley and Yang now, but he really only has attention for the blonde bombshell that now lies beneath him.

He'd thought Yang would be the least fun, to be honest. Weiss was his sister, Ruby was so naïve and innocent and imminently corruptible, and Blake was a sexy little faunus cunt who deserved what was coming to her. Yang, in comparison, was just… Yang. And yet, now that he has her beneath him, now that he's making proper use of her, Whitley is having the time of his life fucking the blonde into the ground. Pounding into her from behind, pulling her head back by her hair… he loves it. He's always been in control, but never before has he had someone that can be so thoroughly abused without doing any real, long-term damage.

Yang's semblance is actually absorbing some of the excess from his blows. Whitley might be more worried about that, but he has control over it. He has control over HER. Yang is as much his slave now as everyone else, from her sister to Blake to his sisters and mother, all the way to the estate staff. They all belong to HIM, and Yang is no different in that.

As such, it's with great relish that Whitley fills Yang Xiao-Long with his cum, pumping his seed deep into her womb and then some. It's with great relish that he pulls out of her and stands up, staring down at the defeated form of his latest conquest. All Yang can do is mewl and moan as she writhes in the dirt. He licks his lips, quite enjoying the sight of her… but she'd look even better in bondage, now that he takes her in.

Oh yes… the plans were already forming in his head.

-x-X-x-

In what had once been his father's office, but now belonged solely to him, Whitley sits behind a large, ornate desk and takes stock of… well, everything. His future plans are going quite well, and he has every expectation that not only will the SDC become greater than it ever was under his father's rule, Whitley himself would soon be surrounded by even more beauties than the ones that already belonged to him now.

A low groan leaves the young man's mouth, and he looks down for a moment beneath his desk, to where Ruby Rose is currently bobbing up and down on his cock. Her silver eyes are filled with hope that she's doing a good job when she looks up at him, and Whitley just smiles, giving her head a pat for a moment.

"Master, I have the reports you requested."

Weiss' voice fills the room, and Whitley looks up from her former team leader to find his sister standing there with a stack of files in her gloved hands. She looks… absolutely gorgeous, in Whitley's humble opinion. With her hair done up in a ponytail, and a corset that did absolutely nothing to cover her small pale tits or her slick wet cunt, Weiss looks positively fabulous. She's also wearing elbow-length gloves and thigh-high stockings, as well as heeled sandals, and that's about it.

Pushing back from his desk, Whitley stands up, causing Ruby to whimper in disappointment as the restrained young woman gets left behind, unable to leave her spot bound beneath his desk without his help. In the process of doing so, Whitley notices that Blake perks up from the pet bed she's currently curled up on in a corner of the room, her eyes darting to his cock and her tongue tracing out to lick at her lips hungrily.

While Whitley moves to Weiss' side, taking one of the reports and looking it over, Blake rises from her napping position and slinks over on all fours, acting like the cute little kitty cat that she is. When she settles in in front of him and fingers herself while sucking on his cock and lapping at his balls, Whitley lets her, barely paying her any mind. Instead, he holds the open report in one hand, reading it intently while his other hand slips down his sister's back, moving between her thighs so he can slip his middle and ring fingers into her from behind, playing with her slutty little hole the entire time that he's reading.

All the while, out in the open but acknowledged by absolutely nobody, Yang Xiao-Long is 'sat' on a pedestal across the room, looking like some sort of art installation. With her arms and legs restrained in a way that presents her front to anyone who so much as glances in her direction, the buxom blonde bombshell can do nothing but moan and whimper through the ball-gag that she's constantly drooling through.

Meanwhile, there are clamps on her nipples and her clit that are conducting electricity into the 'art installation' at a near-constant rate that keeps her right on the edge of orgasm, her exposed but altogether unused pussy flexing constantly, eager to have something inside of it. Not at all like her ass, which is currently impaled on the thick bulbous head of the rod she's stood over. The single bar prison keeps Yang nice and secure, as the heels she's wearing prevent her from raising herself up far enough to dislodge the large butt plug buried in her asshole.

She's well and truly trapped, while also being put entirely on display for Whitley's pleasure. In the end, that's what all of this is about, after all. HIS pleasure. Team RWBY has been reduced from a team of exceptional huntresses, to the pets of a young selfish man with great designs in mind for each of them. Now that he's carried those designs out, they're left to pleasure him how he sees fit. And they do so happily, because not a single one of them can imagine life without their Master.

If they had to live without their master… why, they'd surely rather die.

-x-X-x-

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