Abating Boredom With Beasts, Part One Anonymous 2018/09/17 (Mon) 02:04 No. 39433 ▼
In the Scarlet Devil Mansion, there sits a room of great and extensive opulence. Its ceiling unseen, massive pillars of intricate detailing standing so high as to fade away into darkness; its walls are littered, antique arms and armor forged by smiths of extensive renown, paintings of grand magnificence given life by the brush of artisans, and tapestries woven by only the greatest loom workers of old covering them; and, of course, the carpet approaching the centerpiece of this hall displaying wealth is of such fine make that one could forget they were not flying, to walk upon it indistinguishable from walking upon air. That centerpiece itself, a throne – wrought of only the purest gold, its cushions a luxurious red velvet, its form inlaid with masterfully cut gems in a rainbow of colors, ultimately crowned with a blood-red ruby of staggering size shaped alike a heart. Amidst this display of wealth and power, upon that throne, sat the final treasure contained in this room.
A small girl, with short blue hair, in a much frilled dress stained pink. Leathery black wings curled up behind her, glowing red eyes half-lidded, her petite form sat hunched in this seat more suited to regal bearing and grace, chin upon one hand and the other drumming at an arm rest, long nails each bringing forth a small, metallic 'tink' per impact. Remilia Scarlet, Vampire Queen, idled among what most would call a wondrous sight, this hall of treasures, and she let out a drawn out sigh. She had been in this very position, gazing over every one of these artifacts, these works of masters, for longer than many had been alive. Such finery was at this point more a matter of station and appearance. It did not sate the boredom of long centuries. Indeed, little did, pursuits growing ever more esoteric as time continued to drag on. It might well be that it was time, she thought to herself, to engage in those strange hobbies. Her head began to turn left, and the start to a quick summons got as far as, “Saku–” before her eyes fell upon the maid she desired.
Not there even a moment before, from nothing, the chief maid of the mansion appeared, braided hair of silver framing her face as she stood by her lady's side with a bow, before even her gaze could finish moving. “Mistress Remilia. You required my aid or my time?” The epitome of the elegant maid, her voice spoke of nothing but the desire to serve.
Sakuya's promptness and efficiency could always bring a bright, fanged smile to the face of the young-looking vampire, who waved a hand upwards to bid her stop bowing. “Is anyone interesting expected to show up today?” Even through the obvious, dull boredom suffuse in that question, the lady of the manor's voice came out practically enthralling.
As soon as the question was asked, a book full of timetables and dates phased into being in the hands of the maid, who flipped through its pages, eyeing their contents casually. “If Lady Patchouli is right, we can expect Marisa will be making an attempt on the library again in but a few hours,” she suggested, looking to see what reception this received.
What it received was a hand dragged along a face, pulling at skin in clear dissatisfaction when paired with that shake of the head. “I have fought off that black-white witch with Patchouli no less than three dozen times. I grow tired of patterns of stars and that great beam of hers. Tell her she can have as many of the maids as she wants and, if she's really sure she has the hour down, she can bring Meiling should those tomes truly need to avoid a disappearance of a short few decades.” Orders given with a dismissive wave, the maid was fixed with an expectant look; surely -the- head maid of this mansion knew better what it was Remilia desired?
Without so much as a break, the search through the book had continued, even as one idea was dismissed out of hand. No amount of consultation, however, changed what came next. “I'm afraid then, Milady, that we're not expecting anyone worth your time for any reason.”
A huff actively suppressed turned instead into a silence of several seconds, moment of childish outburst held in check, before Remilia's regretful voice sounded, “Must Gensokyo go so long between incidents? Everything stagnates when fresh troublemakers run scarce. Never mind them, then. What of our own stock? It has been nigh upon half a year since our last brokering brought in a fresh crop of animals, has it not? Surely some of them are adequately trained by now, yes?”
Without careful inspection, one could not immediately discern that Sakuya had conjured another log, the only difference between this leather-bound book and the last the scrawlings contained within. That difference, however, was a considerable one, for where the last held musings on the ebb and flow of Gensokyo, this held instead details far more salacious. “Much better news on this front, Mistress. By Meiling's account, there are several new options available, should you feel in the mood.”
The response to this was quick, and indeed bore excitement, in contrast to all spoken by the ancient child before. “What of that insect, the one Patchouli insisted would become a plague if we actually used it?”
A momentary glance over the book brought about an unfortunate shaking of the head and a perfectly level report. “I'm afraid not. There have been difficulties in controlling it, apparently. A long while yet, she estimates, if ever.”
“It promised to be so interesting, too.” A disappointed click of the tongue came with that just dejected statement, before on Remilia carried, “That horse, then? The eight legged one? Surely it's been receptive, hasn't it?”
No pages could be seen to flip, despite the sound of such coming, and a far more heartening answer was offered, “Quite receptive it seems, yes. Too receptive, even. According to what I have here, we'd run through the whole of the staff in order to sate it, given its size and stamina.”
A high, immensely amused chuckle sounded in time with a radiant grin, the glow in the vampire's eyes brightening alongside their finally unlidding. “Oh. Now that is most promising. A bit difficult to arrange on short notice when I've promised the library an army today, however. Close off the manor in... two weeks. We're to have neither guest nor visitor, and I care not what anyone's business might be. And what is ready today, then?”
A feathered pen suddenly in hand, Sakuya made notes within her tome, nodding obediently in response to the order. “I'll ensure the day proceeds without interruption, Milady. As to more immediate entertainment, the most promising candidates include the feathered serpent, now that its habit of biting has been quelled; the living plant, which seems to have grown quite large under Meiling's care; and that interesting cat with those electrified whiskers.”
Remilia listened to her maid rattle off several recommended choices in respectful silence, trusting in her to provide a suggestion worth her time, and while the first two did hold her interest, it was at the third her ears truly shot up, curiosity piqued. “The cat, you say? I hadn't thought it might do more than amble our halls. It's actually ready for a display right now?”
The question was met with a bow, and the snapping shut of the book full of relevant knowledge. “Indeed, Mistress. It's still rather unruly, truly, but, while it can't be controlled in general, it seems agreeable towards what it is you wish it for.”
With a clap, the diminutive girl rose, turning herself now fully towards Sakuya. “Have Meiling bring it to the usual room at once, and arrange a fairy you feel is appropriate. I'll be waiting. Oh, and I'm feeling parched – do bring something to drink after you've summoned her, will you?” Responding only with a smile, the silver-haired girl quickly vanished, leaving Remilia alone. With a far more refreshed exhale, she set off at a casual stroll through the many, magically altered corridors towards her destination.
The journey took perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, bringing the mansion's owner and head past yet more finery and grandeur, barely even rating a glance. Fairy maids of all shapes and sizes, some almost as small as the lady herself, and only growing smaller, worked upon the path, for a given definition of worked. Few, if any, could even be said to be pretending their pursuits were productive, most instead playing with friends or otherwise amusing themselves; none, however, required more than a simple look to move, should they prove to be in the vampire's way. Her unerring, overpowering gaze parted throngs of useless help effortlessly, ensuring scarcely any effort at all was required to arrive where she wished to, at a pair of large double doors, grasping the oaken wing handles to shove them open with a light touch. They parted slowly, with a creak for their size, until finally revealing one of Remilia's favorite sights in recent times.
Near the edge of the balcony she'd just set foot upon resided a far more modest chair than that excessive throne of hers, simple oak like the door, with precious little adornment upon it. To its side a small, circular table, adorned with a silk covering, bearing a wine bottle and accompanying glass, near full already with a scarlet liquid, its iron scent enticing. Taking her seat and taking a sip, her lips curled in delight at the choice – there was a certain something to the blood of virgin maidens collected under a blue moon. One of the few rarities she could still appreciate all these long centuries later. Setting the glass aside, then, she took to leaning over the railing, peering intently below. Rows upon rows of empty seats sat beneath, arranged in a semicircle around a grand stage with only slightly more life to it. But one other, at the moment, could be found in this private theater, on that very stage, with Remilia's eyes upon her. And already she did not look to enjoy her choice as the day's distraction for an incredibly bored vampire.
One could tell, by the neatly folded maid's uniform, that the fairy presently kept locked within a pillory on center stage was one of the mansion's. One could also tell, by that same uniform, the nature of the show soon to take place. Shivers and shakes wracked the small fae's form, from temperature and tension alike. Weak, thin arms could not pry themselves free of the bonds holding them in place; a jerk of the head, this way and then that, could not so much as rattle her cage, tossing only short, blonde strands of hair around; flight was out of the question, minuscule legs shackled in iron chains of few links, a small hover all that could be managed with an accompanying rattle as intricate, scintillating wings fluttered. The poor thing was truly stuck, helplessly on display, perfectly flat chest rising and falling with each concerned breath, her twists and turns succeeding only in allowing brief glimpses of those adorable, bright pink nipples. Far more easy for the vampire to spot, however, was the petite pussy, seemingly ill equipped for any sort of insertion, yet due for it all the same.
In the midst of these futile attempts to escape, a turn of the head found the unlucky chosen seeing her observer just out of the corner of a bright, green eye. With a voice unsteady and shaking, the fairy dared to ask up, “D-did I d-do something wrong? Wh-why'm I... like this?” Her query met with an answer of only silence, impassive stare growing closer by inches. “Um... Er... M-mistress...” Silence fell for a few seconds, and the fairy had to work to even recall who it was she was technically employed by. “... Remi-Remilia? Hello? C-can you hear me? C-can I b-be let out? Please?” Remilia's expression turned to a half smirk of amusement in response, yet still nary a word came. And as the silence grew, so too did an instinctive, primal fear within the restrained. “U-um, um... uh... If I can't, er, I–”
The step of a foot, ringing clear over the fairy's stammered pleas, brought silence to all else. Another, and then another – strong, slow, purposeful steps which brought closer another source of sound, far more malicious. Low snarls and the click of something not quite a foot upon the wooden ground of the stage. Crane and twist as she might, the naked fairy could not see behind her to what approached; though, to see it would not have eased the whimpers that began to grow in time with its closing. From behind a large, red curtain came first Meiling, hands upon a thick leather leash, dragging something along through nothing but her own strength, for whatever it was clearly fought her on this matter. Nevertheless, she outclassed it, and its fight was for naught, as the beast was brought into the dim light of the stage without much further delay. And beast, certainly, it was.
The head which came into view suggested at first an armored creature, almost as if covered in craggy, jagged plates facing backwards – out of these peered eyes with vertical, slit-like pupils in blue sclera, narrowed sharply as those of a predator. Its further exposure revealed, beneath those plates that continued all along its back, a coat of fur in a deep shade of yellow well speckled with spots of brown. Upon four powerful legs it strode, each protected similarly to its head and back, until they ended in four talons, sharpened to such points they looked able to disembowel by accident; each step it took was less fought for by Meiling and more its own, as its intended destination became clear, the offering being made to it understood. One might almost call the motion of its two whiskers – more like tendrils than anything – excited, as sparks and small jolts of electricity arced along them. It came to match its wrangler, first beside her and then quickly ahead of her, sniffing at the air while a tail more scale than fur perked up and curled. Given its enthusiasm, the martial artist let go of the leash now, offering the beast free reign of center stage. Nodding once to the manor's owner, she hopped back and out of sight then, leaving her to the show about to unfold.
The fairy, of course, could see none of this at the moment. She could, however, hear just how guttural and primal that growl coming from right behind her was, and it certainly worked to make her own breathing quite labored, droplets of sweat forming in droves, running along and down her body as the beast circled slowly, eyeing its prize. From a leg it started, appraising the scent of the diminutive, childish girl before it; along her side it prowled, its investigation continuing, face brushing up against slowly wetting skin, naught but growing terror subduing the fairy's own jolt of sudden movement; then, much though the prey hoped not to have to view the predator, the strange cat rounded to her head, and eyes locked. The poor girl froze, but for those eyes, which shrunk at once to pinpoints. Breathing ceased as she started at it, and it stared right back, a beast easily twice her size, with open, deadly jaws slavering. Evidently, this offering pleased it; and with her first cry of distress as the dam broke came its first strike.
“Will you be requiring anything else, Milady?” Sakuya asked but a few dozen feet away, on the balcony by a slowly disrobing Remilia, without so much as a hint of concern to her voice.
“Oh, no, I do believe this is just fine, Sakuya. Do enjoy some time off while I enjoy the show.” In tandem with this reply, the maid vanished from the scene again, the vampire's bloomers sank low as the first finger began to twirl around that nub atop her own tiny slit, and the burgeoning scream of panic turned abruptly to one of pain, alongside the crackle of electricity and the crack of something whip-like.
Down on the stage below, an electrified whisker pulled back from the fairy's face, a drop of blood dripping from a gash delivered to the area now smoking. The fairy's visage contorted in pain first, just before slight motions overtook her body – a finger suddenly flexing or a toe abruptly twitching, indiscernible from reactions to pain. A potent shriek began, and only got worse, as the beast did not let up: lash upon lash it started to deliver, each harboring not just great force, but plentiful electricity, shaking the abused fairy increasingly. A tendril's smack would resound and knock her pretty face to the side, just in time to meet the other, forcing her back once more and delivering a fresh shock. Faster, the strikes became, restarting the muscle's involuntary motions instead becoming strengthening, whole arms trying randomly to jerk in the stocks, legs chaotically tearing ineffectually at their chains. Every thunderous impact drew with it a new slice across the fairy's cheeks, her body's growing shaking freeing a veritable rain of blood, even as a fairy's immortality and regeneration worked to patch up old slashes. Her face gradually turned purple and black from electrical burns and blood pooling in bruises; her whole form was taken by fits and seizures, every inch of her in disagreement on where it wished to go, one wing wrenching upward as the other drove down, fingers angled in all directions, legs crossing, uncrossing, and knocking against one another. Only when the fervent beating had brought her to the point of essentially seizing did it finally let up, to appraise the state she'd been reduced to.
Where once had been chained a fairy of fair countenance, now before the creature was a girl half to broken, and only kept from that point by the confounding magic which sealed her wounds. Dozens of superficial cuts were fighting over the right to close, and her face had swollen at a number of locales, half obscuring those once bright eyes already darkened substantially, short of life to display. Life, however, was still present, however faint the signs might have been. Her chest still rose and fell, erratic as its pace might be. Over those risen lumps of skin, tears managed to run, droplets meeting the small crimson pool below, dripping through gaps in wood. Her hair was beyond tousled, straight to ruined, strands' ends blackened like the worst beaten areas, the cap to a wild and incoherent mess. The smoldering form still fought, in some way, for its freedom, rattling bonds on occasion – or perhaps those forced movements remained, residual spasms continuing to puppet the fairy's body. Either way, it hardly mattered.
The sight of it all spurred further the vampire, whose dress now lay crumpled next to the chair she was in, and whose wine glass had at some point become empty. Every shaken, rattled wail brought about by the beast's work incited a low moan in Remilia, one delicate finger already having buried itself within her depths, probing for those sensitive spots she – and she alone – was familiar with. At the same time her other hand lay upon a bud of a breast, those nigh-nonexistent lumps all she would ever have or need. Knead she did, squeezing at it and pressing against it as a pair of fingers entwined around a tit, giving it small twists and tugs. Foreplay, all of it, much as the actions of the magical creature below; she would appreciate this slowly, and her latest pet was expected to oblige her, one way or the other. Willingly, it would, judging by where it made for first.
The electrified monster stood before its victim's head for a very specific reason – for that was where it would begin. Not merely with the whipping, naturally, for all throughout its frenzy, a fire had been building down below, its violence mere prelude. Protruding from its underbelly, having come to full hardness amidst the fairy's suffering, was a member colored in a deep red. Its length was plenty enough to stand longer than all but the best endowed of humans, and in girth it did not fail to impress either, even as it tapered towards its front end; its size alone made it more than concerning for one of such young build, could she even take stock – she could not, for with everything, the fairy's eyes had rolled back in their sockets – but it did not end there. Much as a more normal feline, the back end of its cock was lined with barbs – and much as it was a far more monstrous animal, so too were its sharpened, sparking spines.
When no more aftereffects coursed the fairy's body, twitches stilling, her jaw hung slack in exhaustion, trying desperately to pant, to cry out, to do much of anything at all that was dictated by body, rather than electricity. It had no such chance, however, as the beast hurled itself back upon its hind legs, and then ahead with those. When its front legs again touched the ground with a not inconsiderable crash, it had mounted the stockade – and, by extension, mounted its offering. The fairy had just enough time for her eyes to right and to understand what was in front of her before its first drive forward came, right into that wide open mouth – scarcely open wide enough, it seemed, as even the cock's tip proved a trial. When it failed initially to make much headway, the cat gave a noise halfway between agitated whine and aggravated growl, before its claws rent small holes within the stage's planks as it situated itself with a cacophony of cracks. Grip thus reinforced, it tried once more to enter that entryway which had troubled it, and found it much more amenable, even as the fairy found this heavily disagreeable. Just half its length had managed to force its way into her mouth, and already, her jaw stretched about as wide as was safe, and then just wider still. Dangerously close to dislocating painfully, the warm, wet confines of mouth and beyond were open to it – even only partially buried, its outline could be seen within her small throat, its unwanted stretching nowhere near the worst pain the little thing was expected to endure for her captive audience of one.
So captive was it that even in her arousal, Remilia did not let an eye so much as flutter close to closed, catching every last detail, from the minuscule electrical bursts surging from the base of the shaft, to the lump most would miss at this distance, and even just how the twisting chest of the fairy began to pump less enthusiastically when its source of oxygen was cut off. Each detail she would drink in, and each produced a drink itself – a transparent liquid that leaked out her own muff, two fingers now rooting around within that canal beyond. Briefly they were withdrawn, strands of that lubricant still connecting the pair, raised for her to suckle upon, tasting the sweet nectar of her nethers, its flavor delightful enough to draw out a contented sigh. A glossy, slowly growing pool of it began to collect under her, fingers traced through it before sinking within her once more, their touch sending shivers running up her body. And just as those shivers overtook her, a new sound rose up from the actors on stage – several, even, simultaneously.
When the cat had merely been idling well past her mouth, that had almost been tolerable for the inexperienced fairy – then it began its movement. Its pace, much as all else about it, could be described as bestial, and it cared not for discrepancies in size nor lack of ability in swallowing cock. Its furious motions induced gags and retches, and eyes tired and sunken after a thorough shocking found strength again to widen and water. Supplies of oxygen began to dwindle, with little to no reprieve offered between thrusts more than deep enough to prevent all breath and shake her restraints with great creaks, which was only the beginning. With every re-entry of its further saliva slickened shaft, it found an extra half a centimeter, delving further within an already overtaxed hole, coming alarmingly near where those spines began. Of course, pressing matters of gradual asphyxiation muddled matters of incoming pain – the fairy's head began to grow fainter as need for air grew greater. Thankfully for her violator, however, she merely needed some prodding to maintain her consciousness. The first of its adornments found their way inside of her, delivering small cuts to her fragile lips, alongside the latest round of electrocution. Unfortunately for the one making use of her, however, the shock proved the final straw – as it stole control of her muscles, her mouth attempted to jump away, and the wet sound of its insertion intermingled with the violent crack of her jaw displacing too far. Full out of her mouth it pulled, its next shot missing, and for this failure came an angered cry of attack and its favorite pair of weapons.
As easily as her skin gave way to those electric whips, the fairy's wings proved an even easier target to ruin. Rather than beat her simultaneously, it simply smashed them upon her back once, and began a steady discharge. As she once more thrashed at random, cries of agony muted for want of air, her wings tried to flap along, but found that hard as they bore the brunt of its ire. Energy surged through the wire-thin things, more than they could handle; first chunks began to rip off and float slowly to the stage below, and then they simply overloaded and caught fire, burning from their ends back to her. It was only as they had completely vanished and the flames had begun to lick at her backside that the beast pulled back, beating the burning area to smother the flames. Its toy had failed it, but she would not be getting off easily with death. Having taught its slave her place again, it aimed for where it had been prior; half conscious and still trying to scream uselessly with a broken jaw, she had no chance at all to fight it this time.
Every last inch of its length disappeared within the fairy, for a given definition of disappeared. Her throat seemed grotesquely deformed, and even its sharp growths could be seen to rise just that bump thicker outwards. No sound could pass her lips, so plugged was her mouth – not that she had breath to so much as choke with. Electricity delivered from those barbs straight to the hole assigned to pleasure the overlarge phallus furthered efforts in that regard: the tongue pressed flat was forced by their shocks to move, involuntarily twirling itself as though eager to wring every drop of cum out the hole upon that head, already leaking a disparately sweet stream of pre for the rape ongoing – deeper, muscle contracted with great force, squeezing upon it as though trying to mold itself in the image of its invader. And naturally, it could not end there, for a fairy's flesh was not quite so firm as what the beast evolved to mate with; what should scarcely have drawn scrapes or scratches in the confines of another of its species withdrew red when it soon pulled back. Then it truly began. If it had been bestial before, now the creature was beyond frenetic, driving at its source of pleasure with an unbridled speed as though it bore hatred unending. The more it would thrust, the bloodier its length became, and even as the fairy's face seemed to recover from the earlier whipping and her wings began to regrow, the damage being dealt internally mounted well beyond these wounds. The fae swallowed small bits of herself which tore free and the which flowed from those new holes, heaves attempting to send it all back up with bile and failing entirely. All the while, the fairy's eyes drooped lower, and every stirring of her body, forced or not, began to grow weaker, until it she seemed ready to pass out and collapse, such as she could.
Abating Boredom With Beasts, Part Two Anonymous 2018/09/17 (Mon) 02:06 No. 39434 ▼
Whether or not she did was hardly important to their spectator, so long as she did not fully expire. That would end this fun little display far too soon, and Remilia was still not nearing her own climax – even as howls from below seemed to indicate at least one of her entertainers was. Nonetheless, though she wasn't close to finishing, she too hastened her ministrations, a trio of fingers spreading herself wide and working within that small opening. From her position above, she had a perfect view of every shake or jolt that overtook the fairy – and each, brought about by pain and overwhelming force, inspired one in reciprocation, of corrupt ecstasy and malefic enjoyment. The noble vampire would never sully herself laying with such a lowly beast, but it was still so very interesting to watch them work, and one couldn't really sully a fairy, now could they? In the midst of her carnal work, her other hand took up that refilled glass, an extended draught coinciding with a hefty rocking and a particularly jubilant cry – the contents spilled all over, running down her cheeks and splashing upon her smooth stomach. Never minding the mess, that hand transitioned instead to rubbing sensually over her body, working in the iron fluid to teat and more. And as The Scarlet Devil painted herself such, those cries from main stage began to hit a crescendo, before ultimately ending in one final triumphant roar of dominance.
One might call the fairy lucky, if they were so inclined, because she had by this point become unable to keep herself up – wound and lack of air took their toll, and her eyes simply rolled back, blackness claiming her. Unfortunately for the fairy, it was not enough to send her disappearing in a puff of dust as the creature mounting her held itself hilted within. At the least, she was not awake to feel the surge that suddenly moved through that offensive blockage, further stretching an already taxed orifice. She did not have to taste that sudden blast of white, a virile wave of semen exploding out of its length into a recipient it was wasted upon. She did not have to smell the backblast that crashed against the back of her throat, clogging her nostrils as the thick goo escaped to the floor below, tinged the slightest pink with her internally draining life force. She did not have to feel how her stomach began to sag under its deluge, its output plenty more than enough for one so slender. And she was not there, in any mental capacity, when it finally pulled out, scarcely having softened and delivering one more mangling set of gashes to her lips and depths, an excess of its discolored seed coating it and leaking. With the beast's eyes appraising what any would call a ruined form, it regained what little stiffness it had lost below – either it cared not whether she had been slain, or perhaps, in its training, had learned these small morsels were more sturdy than their weak bodies would have one believe. Whatever the case, having had its appetizer, it slunk behind her once more as magic tried to seal her wounds closed. And there it waited, with the low stance and stillness of a monster set to ambush.
It took several minutes of oozing snot and worse for the fairy to once more be numbered among the tenuously living. To call her return to consciousness unpleasant would be to understate it: the first sensation that greeted her was a lingering burning that covered most of her upper body, only less potent further down, never fully dissipating. She coughed and she spat up yet more of what had filled her, face less flesh and more mire of myriad coatings: caked cum, drying blood and clear, green bile, all streaked with water leaking from eyes closed shut, for fear of seeing the beast still before her. Amidst the stream of vile liquids being thrown back up, the fairy did her best to rise, wings weakly flapping to try and bring her up as much as the chains holding her legs would allow. Her first flutters managed nothing, not even a rattle of her restraints. When she continued, she just got her toes out of the pooled mess and off the hard wood. With great effort, eventually, she rose, trying again fruitlessly to tear free, stock and chain holding her just where she was desired. And, as she finally displayed any measure of recovery, even an ounce of strength, that proved to be a rather poor decision – for it meant she was finally ready to continue.
For but a few seconds the fairy was risen without interruption, and then her assailant stepped forward, and as before, its footfall was heard. At the sound, the girl stilled and plummeted that short distance, feigning death, hoping to vanish, anything to spare herself, no matter how unlikely. But such measures were wholly futile, and didn't serve to aid her as the beast continued its approach, slow and menacing, playing with its victim, whose ability to hold still faltered upon each and every sound heralding one more step. It came to loom above her, casting the fairy in shadow, bringing about rapid hyperventilation, and stammered protests of, “N-n-n-no, bl-blease, d-don'd,” which were cut off when a paw shifted forward, a claw that could more than easily tear her apart rubbing momentarily against that childish cunt. With actual words failing to come out, the fae girl was left to blubbers, wondering what was to come next and just how much it would hurt before she finally saw the mercy of death, to later return, hopefully having forgotten this. A great number of violent possibilities ran through her addled, feeble mind, from mutilation to consumption, and all proved wrong when it instead nudged her upwards. When she failed to respond, confused, it made a guttural, annoyed noise from its throat, and it took her next to no time to flit back upwards as it desired, propelled by obedient fear. 'Don't claw me up and eat me, I'll do whatever you want,' she'd have told it, if she could get thoughts out her mouth. Luckily for her, that she couldn't speak did not matter, and her actions placated it – even if they didn't spare her.
Some might find the pause in action to be deterring to their mounting pleasure, but not Remilia, who looked eagerly upon the scene of predator laying in wait for its prey. The same as that oral violation before, it held her enthralled, lust growing in appreciation of the tense wait for what would come next. Digits which had delved deeply removed themselves, a palm instead playing across her clit and rubbing over that entrance still parted just slightly. Her efforts began to bear more fruit, moans of pleasure growing higher and louder, once cold skin beginning to warm as underneath it, her snack flowed hastily thanks to the beating of a long dead heart – and where she wasn't coated by spilt wine, what had been drunk added its own flush, further coloring pristine, pale skin. To and fro, forward and back the vampire continued to bend as those oh so pleasant sensations continued to spread upwards and dictate her movement. And much as the anticipation may have enraptured her, the show was finally slated to go on down below, intoxicating mewls of terror reaching her ears.
Holding there ascended, the fairy was at just the height where her doomed twat might be made use of – in short order, when properly prepared. For between disparity in size and a total dryness of the hole to be used, brute force would not avail the monster here. But there was a solution to this it possessed, and one it was only happy to continue employing, regardless of how its partner felt about it. A whisker slipped beneath itself and felt around for its target; even though none of that terrible yellow energy was discharged yet, as it slid along a leg, it still sent that limb shaking and flying away reflexively. A poor choice. The tendril went swiftly from searching to gripping, snatching hold of the leg at the knee when it tried to escape. Its solution to this disobedience was the same as is solution to many things: it delivered another dose of its energetic pain around that joint, again stealing control of its movements from the girl. Her eyes finally shot back open, and a piercing screech echoed in the theatre all around. Holding her still where it was, the worst of its effects were concentrated right at that transition between upper and lower leg: as seconds wore on and things grew worse, one half wished to spasm one way, and other sought to twitch another, each the wrong direction to take. Her already potent scream redoubled as, within it, came the sound of bone snapping when twisted wrong, fracturing and leaving the appendage hanging uselessly at an odd angle. When the fae could again form coherent words, as opposed to useless cries, she screamed, “WON'D MOVE! WON'D MOVE! WON'D MOVE!” in hopeless hope the promise of stillness would get things to stop.
Seemingly, it did, or at least the cat thought the lesson taught – up that broken leg it returned to tracing, where it had left off, and this time located what it had been after, as the further cowed fairy forced herself, through every agony, to not shake her body such the beast's guide tried to wrest free. No mean feat, certainly, but further tests stood ahead as the very tip of the tentacle was planted upon the hole that required coaxing. What else did it apply then, but its favorite trick? Energy flowed through flesh, bringing with it harm, a howl, and that familiar loss of ownership. That slit pried open and it snapped back closed alternatingly, as the process continued in small bursts of harrowing, flashing torture. During it all the fairy's will to hold herself still began to falter, height flagging, creature's eyes narrowing at this disgusting failure before, by stroke of luck, its plan finally achieved what it was after. The fairy's cunt twitched as wide as it would spread on its own and, much more importantly, leaked now lubricant, regardless of the fairy's lack of arousal, the better to accept entry. So, way unbarred, the creature's sopping, still coated length made finally for the now inviting depths, fairy desperate to keep where she was wanted, lest whatever came next be worse.
Despite the considerable improvement of its odds, the beast still could not simply penetrate easily. No, it found its mark and then, with great effort, began trying to shove itself in, against all protest – physical and verbal. The hole did its utmost to remain closed, a gradually losing battle as already parted lips crept ever closer to failure; the fairy did her best to beg, with voice weak and hoarse, wanting this all to end, and having no delusions of fighting. “Ble-blease sdob,” she asked of it with a snivel and a wincing shiver, as though doing so would amount to anything, and the beast behind her pushed harder. “I-I d-dun w-wa-wanna,” she insisted to it more meekly and more weakly, as though her consent was required, or even considered, and it was not, incoming invader inching closer to splitting those folds. “W-wh-why w-won'd you sdob?” she inquired of it in scarcely a whisper, as though any answer would come, but the only other sound in the room came from on high – from the vampire enjoying this performance, whose lustful cries were no answer, and certainly did not stop the encroaching erection. “I-I-I di-didn'd do...” What she did not do was manage to withstand, and finally that fat head pierced her, opening her opening far more thoroughly than it was prepared for. Filled well beyond capacity, the small cavern fought fiercely to try and shove out the dick within it, to no avail, as the fairy gave a moan of only distress and the cat began to purr. Horrible as that overstuffing was, burning at every already aggravated inch, it at least did not reach the excruciating heights of all that had happened prior; comforting as that thought might be, it had also yet to begin, and any comforts were doomed to be short lived.
The distension now visible upon her crotch was at least as thick as the whole of her torso before its filling, and it began to push gradually forward. Every inch gained was hard fought as just how deep the fairy could be ravaged was discerned – and then, with a very sudden yelp, the answer turned out to be 'not nearly as deep as it might hope'. Within, the cockhead disgorging sweet lubricant had run up against a wall: the cervix, to be specific, and that shaft was yet to embed itself halfway. This was the limit, it seemed; so the beast would make do with what it had. Increasingly surrounded by wetness and working with its desire to expel, the cat retreated far more easily than it had progressed; shortly after, it slid back to where it had been near as easily, now that the way was paved, to the tune of a fresh wail – running up against that barrier was a sudden and torturous spike indeed, a fact that slowed things none. As it progressed in speed, more attempts to cry out for mercy may have been forthcoming – if each weren't interrupted by its latest crash, hardly offering time to finish the latest exclamation of suffering, much less to start a word. Those impacts drew with them squishing sounds, and out of the abused, taut cunt, liquids of all sorts constantly splashed, reds and whites and plenty more clear precum. If one were to silence the fairy, they could almost believe she were a dripping mess, enjoying every second of this rough, careless defilement. But no such illusions were held by any in this room. Not the fae who couldn't even claw at her restraints, nor the beast offered dominion over her, and certainly not the other small girl present, who drank in every howl of the damned.
By now, the vampire was having to contain herself some. With the palm of a hand still circling over the nub above, its fingers slid simultaneously within herself below, working at a frenzied pace. Pleasure and passion had nigh on peaked, and will alone kept her from surging towards an unseemly and premature orgasm. Breath came laboriously, and Remilia bit her lower lip so strongly she almost drew her own imbibed blood. Unlike with the fairy subjected to hellish punishment, every growing drop that flowed out the mansion's mistress was born of sheer ecstasy, and a great number of drops freed themselves indeed, her pussy practically a waterfall by now. In her fevered pitch, she grasped at tit and breast once more, other hand clamping fingers upon them with more than enough pressure to sting – but such slight pangs did not stymie her, as the barest fraction of a fraction of what went on in order to entertain her. Ahhhh, and how that scene entertained...
The fairy, by this point, had managed through her unfortunate gift of healing to render the once-maimed leg functional again. A mostly useless consideration, but at least it afforded her another to kick at the air when driven into – and at the air, specifically. She was not all there as abject hell overwhelmed her everything, but instict ensured she flailed outward, rather than be seen as attacking it. No, to endure, not to fight: this was her task, a task she found monumental, for it was. The disregard for her as anything but something with which to relieve sexual desires ensured her insides began to swell and bruise under the cat's uncaring treatment, which served to tighten her to the point of being vice-like, as though trying to choke the life from her violator. Would that she could – but it stood at the apex, compared to her, and so all those swells succeeded in doing was to render the fae that much more adept at draining dicks dry. And despite being quite, quite good at it – through no real work or effort on her own part, truly, but it was a virtue either way – she wasn't quite good enough for the rapacious feline using her. It just couldn't get enough of itself in to really get what it needed; thus, it hatched another use for those ever so handy implements of shock upon its face.
It knew a combination of three things, in the moment: it knew what kept it from inserting any further in, daring to act against it; it knew what lay beyond that gateway, those lengths going unused; and it knew how its lightning could force movement within the fairy's body. What it should do, then, was obvious, and in tandem its whips sank below once more, patting against the belly blocking its own underbelly. Soon enough it found that hastily moving bulge, and not long after, the place where it always terminated. The beast wasted no time and, with a familiar spark and crackle, set upon its too-small sleeve, to expand her in entirely the wrong direction. Applied right to some of the most sensitive areas possible, her response was as immediate as it was an issue; her torso crunched up reflexively in an attempt to double over, and as she breathlessly worked her mouth, unable to even cry out, the creature suddenly slid out, thrusting at air for a second before reality caught up and it recalled this as the second time it had been so failed. Its own revenge came even faster than the fairy's reaction, head darting to its underwhelming prize's with great agility, the fairy's coming to rest between sharp-toothed jaws. She could feel their points, scant centimeters away from digging into her, but a further clench away from something even messier than this whole ordeal – and, coward that she was, was coerced back into line like this, trying again to straighten out and keep in the air, an ever more difficult prospect. Oh, but fear kept her at it, as the cat set about continuing its work, and continuing her reaming. She dared not find out what might happen, should she anger it further. Even the simple mind of a fairy understood this as her last chance. So, electrocuted her tirelessly in pursuit of its goal, she did not curl up. Her stomach clenched fiercely; her gut sucked in waves of air that fueled nothing, for it then spat it back out as if smashed with a sledgehammer. And then, graciously, that wall tumbled down.
The cervix was not meant to be hit, and its every brushing had been a nightmare; once it had dilated open to allow passage, the womb beyond was much the same, bereft of child to incubate, and yet somehow worse. Perhaps it was that, when so relentlessly rutted, an extra few inches to give a thrust more potency made all the difference; perhaps that thrice-sensitive canal was a place of pure sorrow, as it finally met with spine and spark, cock forcing deep enough for those lovely additions to make their way in; or perhaps the poor little thing was so overwhelmed with fear and suffering at this point that it all simply added together to beat her senseless. Whatever the cause, the end result was that, near as soon as it got access to where it wanted, the fairy was once more out like a light; it changed nothing, as before, for the fairy's virtue was not her sexual skill, merely her adorable size and consequent holes. So it just continued to fuck her unconscious, ragdolling body, without slowing down in the least. Now it had what it needed; now that most important section of its length fit, for the most part, within its receptacle. Those superficial slices that left a considerable red torrent pouring out along with those clear juices were like aphrodisiac to it, and now the beast again surged towards release, releasing the fairy's head to roar in fe
It kept pace as building lust reached its boiling point for the second time, and ropes of semen began to shoot out, to quickly fill up what space was available. Most of that space was within the womb it had unlocked, which received it all like an inflating balloon. More and more poured in, pushing its limits and taxing it, demanding it accept yet more. When the beast would pull back, the shots coated somewhere slightly more normal, for a short time; and then its barrelling forward left it no room within that vagina, and it all overflowed out, a sloppy mess that continued to accrue, splattering onto the fairy's legs, along her back, down her still bloated stomach, and ensured she looked as well used a whore as she was. When finally its second round began to wane, its last few bursts were deposited as deeply as it could manage, to cap off and ensure that womb was as full to bursting as physically possible. Then, for now, it almost seemed satisfied as it dragged itself out, only now mostly softened; with it came a much increased flow of its fecund seed, oozing in great quantities. It backed away, looked at its handiwork, and the expression its face took may even have been one of enjoyment or pride. Then... well, the fairy was still gone, and it was no longer infatuated with her, so now it had time to focus on the only sound in the theatre besides the steady drip of cum.
That sound was the sound of Remilia who, when her pet had gone over the edge, had finally allowed herself the release of that pent up euphoria. She sat less properly and regally now, instead sliding low in her chair, as the convulsions of climax held her. No restraint was placed upon her voice, a high, pure moan resounding, held throughout her session's end. Her hands ceased their pleasuring, lost within her own, far more agreeable involuntary motions, during her minute of bliss' grip. When finally she was released to her own devices once more, she promptly straightened herself out again, in the name of propriety, and let out a sigh tinged with what remained of those wondrous feelings. Aware of herself again, she looked down, to see what the situation was like where beast and fairy were. Unsprisingly, the fairy was still down, and, unsurprisingly, the cat was looking at her; and in its eyes, she could see that appraisal, that thought, that she was much alike the fairy it had just used; perhaps even that it thought she would be its next offering, going by how it once more rose below, all set for a third round. Experimentally, Remilia looked back; looked it dead in the eye, with an imperious stare of steel, able to strike terror into almost anything. It stared right back, and seemed only to find a way to glare harder, which prompted a highly amused chuckle behind a raised hand. One clap, a turn, and the first syllable, “Sa-” summoned the maid who had been dismissed earlie, within the deluge of carnal juices, bowing with propriety.
“Mistress Remilia. Shall I begin the cleaning and draw a bath?” The question was immediate upon her arrival, a towel already hanging off her arm.
“No, no,” the vampire insisted, more jovial than usual, grin showing filed-sharp fangs reaching almost as wide as possible. “That cat – do the notes state whether it's capable of cross-magical breeding?”
Sakuya had been carrying a towel, and now it was a book, pages thumbed through hastily. “Ah, yes, here. Patchouli believes it is, Milady, though it hasn't actually had a fairy survive any attempts to impregnate it yet.” Remarking this, the maid looked down, seeing the still intact fairy and how the beast hungrily eyed her Mistress. From nothingness, an entire circle of knives surrounded it, embedding into the stage with a barrage of thunking sounds; that, at least, got it to look around in confusion, right up until it set its sights back on those above with a growl.
“Oh, Sakuya, you don't need to intimidate it. Meiling could drag it in; if it tries anything, I'll throw it through a few floors. Instead, I want you to reward it. I like this one. It's got some fight. Go fetch it another fairy. And go give that one some time off.” A sweep of the hand indicated the only fairy here, the lucky recipient of this benefit. “I want to see what sort of offspring it produces with her. She's relieved until she gives birth or we can confirm it didn't work.”
“Of course, Mistress Remilia.” The simple, elegant statement came with the disappearance of everything she'd impaled into the grand stage, and was followed shortly with an equal, “Will there be anything else?”
“An aid,” Remilia answered, stretching her hands to indicate just how big she wanted it. “One of the silver ones; I've been put in the mood for a good burn. And...” She tilted her head, taking a whiff of the room, its many intertwined scents of musk, iron, her own discharge, char and oh so much more – and after she processed it all, she exhaled in contentment, enjoying the mingling aromas. “Apologies, but don't clean anything up yet; this all works together very, very nicely.”
“No trouble at all, Mistress. But one moment.” It was not even that – the vampire couldn't even blink before everything was set up. The old fairy was gone, replaced with a new one, smaller, topped with hair of fiery reds and oranges, not seeming to comprehend what had happened, why she was here, what that immensely complex scent was, or just how fucked she was, figuratively or literally. On that table next to Remilia, a silver dildo of modest size sat, awaiting use by the one who'd requested it. And, of course, the beast's head had been turned to see how it was being offered someone else, to divert its attention from false hope. “Anything else before I go, Milady?”
“No, carry on, Sakuya. Thank you.” She took up that imitation cock with this, maid offering a graceful bow on vanishing. Quickly, the vampire began to hiss just slightly, “Ahhhhh. Oh, yes, that's just right for the occasion.” The beast, given a fresh, rapidly spooking target, turned instead to the forbidden fruit it thought itself deserving up above. A casual wave cast off its delusions, and told it to make due with what it was offered; Remilia was well beyond it. It couldn't exactly bound up to her to claim what it considered its due, so after a few seconds, it acquiesced, taking stock of its new stock. “Good boy,” the vampire cooed at it, settling in for more of this. Perhaps she'd have Sakuya grab a few more fairies before the day was out; they wouldn't be of much help in the library anyway.