The world had narrowed down to the command between her legs and the ravenous perverse pound of her submissive honest sex. She knew little else other than fog, need, and the sound of her heartbeat across the landscape of her head. Tingles of phantom memory came to her between moments of heavy-eyed thoughtlessness, adding vivid imagery to her suffering in showcasing the whirl of things that couldn’t be while beating at her will with pressured longing. There were bright strange patches where thought and memory once dwelled, but she’d long ago shied away from them, frightened by whatever they held. How she’d made the journey from the woodlands to the humid silence of her home no longer mattered with the strength it should have. All that mattered was… was…
The hot slick pounding of purpose her sex knew to be absolute and true.
Time was spent in wasteful stages. Her once scribble-filled parchment bare of ink or words. Her research forgotten, her hands… busy. It was just too difficult to focus or do anything other than lounge upon any available surface and lazily stroke along the ink between her legs, the ink she swore crawled and writhed against her skin, throbbing in time to the pulse of her clit.
She could remember a similar pattern, if she tried hard enough… the etched color of symbols that stood out on Gail’s back.
Great God she was terrified, and that only electrofied her further.
She wasn’t sure what had happened to her body, why it burned so hotly without end. It always felt as if something were calling, tempting the dark within her to eagerly answer. Was it the curse that tingled against her flesh—the ink her Mistress said would make her truthful?
No, not… Mistress, she shivered, fighting against the heady impulse, it’s just a creature, a monster.
And still she moaned happily at the thought, caught off guard by her body’s hungry spasm, the need to bow down before something unnatural.
That heated confusion kept her trapped within her own walls, with thoughts cycling constantly over what had happened—what little she could remember of it. It was difficult to think of anything else, locked as she was in desire and dread. So difficult to… think period, beyond the ink’s constant summoning.
For honesty, she thought with worry.
Meat should always prepare itself, and she was so painfully flushed and ready. Stuck in her loop of slower simpler thoughts. Paranoia, at least, had not abandoned her and in fear of what she knew and the looming unknown she’d locked herself within her home as a precaution. It was an embarrassing and painfully familiar scenario, but wasn’t the risk involved much higher? She couldn’t be captured, mustn’t be… taken. For some reason she couldn’t supply.
She’d already lost twice before…
It was so troubling to know that… that were she wander beyond her dwelling she would…
She lost track of the thought-thread and growled with frustration as she squirmed in her musk-coated sweat soaked bedding.
Quiet… she whispered to her own frantic mind, or else she’d lose what little she knew to be certain.
All that she could hold onto was that she couldn’t be tempted, mustn’t be driven. The monster would surely take her and… and see that she craved to be bitten, to be drained of her mind as well as her blood. That was what she… wanted—but couldn’t have, shouldn’t seek. It was what she'd dreamt about between drowsy sessions spent attempting petty activities, only to find her fingers stirring her own wet softness to invasive arresting fantasies of soul sipping.
Whatever had been in that wine had ruined something... something important that she couldn’t remember. She was just so soft now, so sleepy and melted—
And thirsty and wanton.
i want it to come, her body whispered, no longer beholden to the ring of the tower, awake at any hour.
i want it to come and take everything left.
She panted harshly against her pillow, but what of Franklin? The Constable? Kentworks? Is it not up to me to save them?
Her sex clenched in hungry warning, they can’t be saved. i want, i need—
She really hated thinking these days when her body and mind danced together along truths and lies. She blamed her distractions on the inked curse, when her mind was not so lost admiring its presence. If only she could stop tracing its looping curves and elegant dips or the thick sharp edges along her hips...
Oh! How she badly wanted to drown in the darkness of it, in the unnatural vibrancy it held against the copper of her skin.
Obsessed. I’m obsessed.
“Mmm,” she rolled her hips among her sheets, trying and failing to parse time from windowed lighting. When was the last time she’d bathed or eaten? How disheveled she must look, how destroyed and defeated.
If it found me this way, it would know it was time.
Time for… what, exactly?
That too, she couldn’t remember.
But the half-thought was enough to push her to action, and soon her clenching fingers were possessed and exploring and ticklish along her inner thighs. Her eyes grew heavy as they drifted closer, numb and curious beyond her control—
Then a loud horrid thunk came from beyond her door, a rattle that shook her wall and bed frame lightly.
She gasped and paused in exploration with only the rapid thud of her heart louder than the bang that shook her abode. The thought of invasion beat back at slicker feelings, and her mind bobbed desperately along the surface of comprehension—slow, still too slow.
She blinked owlishly as a shadow lengthened and stretched along the corridor.
“Widow Graham. You’re being summoned.”
In the doorway stood Gail in working trousers, with a locksmith belt held loosely over shoulder. Her face, smudge lightly with the sign of finished labors, held an edge of intensity despite the blankness that that made her eyes look doll-like. Her stance made her look taller, confident. Gail had come with purpose.
The flickering hallway light captured the steel of a thumb sized plate upon a thick necklace. Of which rested gaildog engraved at the center.
Alderose swallowed as Gail stepped closer, the jangle of her necklace a loud echo in Alderose mind.
With the other no longer a presence in the threshold, Alderose was able to see Anna beyond Gail’s broad shoulders.
“You’re… invited to tea at Griswall Hall.” Anna said with a slu and eyes that shimmered with the inner reflection of hazed distraction. “Isn’t that lovely? You’ve always wanted to go.”
Instinctively Alderose pulled herself backwards, avoidant when Gail knelt with one leg upon her bedding.
At Gail’s back Anna continued to speak, glancing at the disarrangement of her bedroom with a furrowed brow, “You’ve… been in here for awhile. That’s wrong. We’re outside and you’re… in here.”
Gail froze at the edge of the bed, hovering, while Alderose finally found the composure to speak, “H-how long?” Her tongue was clumsy, her lips cracked, dry, and numb. She jerked at the sound of her own soft voice.
Anna wrinkled her nose cutely, “Umm… I’m not sure. My head’s not right. Everything is… soft…”
Gail clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth and Anna stiffened with a gentle whisper—
“It doesn’t matter,” Anna groaned, “She doesn’t like that you’re here. It makes Her bored.”
Anna whispered those words with such sleepy reverence that Alderose instantly knew who was being referenced. She slipped a little closer to the other side of the bed and Gail’s eyes followed her, predatory and tracking.
She shivered as her inner walls gave a hungry little spasmed, nervous and anticipatory. She’d been interrupted mid-stroke and her clit still tingled...
“You both aren’t… right.” Alderose croaked, “Go away.”
“No,” Anna said, with a tilted head, “you have to come, it’s societal tea.”
Gail reacted just as Alderose swung a leg off the side of the bed, with actions that felt entirely too fast for Alderose to process. She gripped her upper arms with a strength she shouldn’t have possessed, firm and near bruising. So. Damn. Controlling.
Alderose fought to keep her eyes from rolling up.
“Lemme go,” She slurred.
Gail ignored her, tugging her closer until Alderose’s legs were tangled in her own ruined bedding.
“You smell, Rose.” Anna said, callous in her dreaming, “You can’t meet our Lordtrix like this.”
Alderose couldn’t find the right emotion to feel shameful. Despite the fevered hitch in her breathing, she knew she… shouldn’t want to meet their Lordtrix. Who cared if she was unpresentable?
Anna cared, “A shower then.”
She left to attend to it.
Gail tugged Alderose closer, uncaring of her scent, as her lips parted in an unsettling smile.
Chest to chest Gail husked against her ear, loud and obnoxious in her sniffing. “I think you smell good, Rosie. All wet and willing.”
Alderose whimpered as she felt Gail huff against her neck, her mind swimming from Gail’s embarrassing admission. “D-don’t call me that.”
“So good, Rosie,” Gail mouthed against her flesh, her squirming hot tongue seeking out her sweat.
Alderose opened her mouth, but her words were strangled, lost before they could escape. It only kept Gail emboldened as her lips and tongue drew patterns up and up and up—
Alderose couldn’t help the roll of her hips or her small desperate buck when Gail’s tongue lightly touched upon her pulse, claimed and fluttering. The mark that dwelled there, those two pin-pricks, awakened with a sharp and painful throbbing. Gail held her tighter through her ragged panting, spilling perverted laughter against her skin.
“There it is, her perfect Mark.” With an arm wrapped around her back Gail kept her prisoner, while a now free hand tangled among her untamed locks. “Swollen and begging…”
Her lips pressed lightly, a maddenened presence, and instinctively Alderose’s head fell back, needing no further prompt. Her heart thundered to a primal beat that must have been visible in the strength of her pulse for Gail hissed, enraptured as she placed her mouth over it.
Holding it there. Waiting.
She whined, pitifully, wanting—
—and meat should want to be bitten, to feed, anything, anyone who commanded her of it. She couldn’t be sure if Gail was man or beast, but she knew that she was lips and tongue and teeth, pressing against her—oh God—so sensitive neck.
“Please,” Alderose husked softly, not sure of what she was asking.
Then Gail applied just the right amount of pressure with soft moist lips that sucked—
And thrill rushed hot throughout her veins as blood pushed to the surface of unbroken skin, desperate and trained by a stronger beast to escape. With each gentle pull her mind trembled, and when those teeth nipped just so she felt them on her lower lips. She cried out in a weak and confused voice, ready to give if only Gail would take.
But her touch was tender, her suckling firm, her teeth only teasing, while Alderose’s blood burned.
With her mind caught in the whirlwind of tight heat and bliss she did not resist as Gail brought them to their feet. With Gail’s lips still wrapped around Alderose’s pulse her strength maintained her melted balance. They moved as a unit, though Alderose hardly noticed, even when the stuffy humidity of her bedroom changed to something steamy and more open—
The washroom proper.
“Nooo….” Alderose whined at the ceiling, as steam crawled with searching fingers across it.
Lips lightly ended their gentle suck, only for tongue and teeth to manipulate her further.
She trembled, weak and easily poseable, as Anna came from behind and held her immoble.
Quickly, Gail shrugged off her clothing, the locksmith belt forgotten on Alderose’s cracked-checkered floor. Briefly, neck rolling, Alderose caught sight of Gail’s back and the ink that traveled throughout it.
She bit her bottom lip to repress her moan, mind drawn to the striking art of linking twists and locks along Gail’s raised welts.
An idle thought floated through her head, of cracking sounds and leather whips.
Then she was back in Gail’s arms, being drawn beneath the hot touch of falling water.
Anna quickly disrobed and joined them at Alderose’s back, a hand around the pull-chain of her shower. She tugged on it once, strengthening the hissing blast as Gail expertly turned her.
“Isn’t it a bit silly, that you forgot to wash?” Anna asked with a gaze too wide, “Did… you forget how to when She sent you to bed?”
She shivered, submerged in meatlust, still waiting and wishing to be bled. She couldn’t reply, her head was so… empty. Maybe she had forgotten...
She frowned and tripped over her thoughts as Gail positioned one of her arms around the back of her neck, flushing Alderose against her chest. While Anna began to soap up a cloth at her front, Gail drew fingers along the front of her throat.
Sound escaped her involuntarily and the pin-pricks against her pulse throbbed with hunger.
Slick and soapy they bathed her while Anna hummed some dissonant song of warning that spiralled over and over across Alderose’s mentality. Cloth-hidden fingers pressed and pulled at the weight of her breasts, squeezing water and warmth across them. Her nipples swelled and tightened with silent urging, and reluctantly, as the cloth moved downward, her hips began to roll.
“O-oh…!” She gasped sharply, feeling hands cup her swollen sex and spread her before the searching eyes of her invaders. She wanted to look down, keep track, grasp some sense of control—
Then lips were back, kneading and sucking at her pulse.
Her eyes slid shut.
Within the darkness of lust Alderose found it difficult to exist. There was only touch, and heartbeat, and a need for teeth. She was enraptured, a slave to the cry of her flesh and the rhythm in her ears that whispered hotly to… to meat.
Gail rumbled around suckled skin as Anna reverently attended to the tender raised skin of her inked pelvis. Alderose tried to keep herself still and not purposely thrust forward to feel the wicked pressure of soreness.
An incredibly difficult task.
It was already so hard to stop herself from helping them suppress her.
Then, with a quick rub meant to clean her drooling sex, the soap was rinsed and her shower completed. Gail kept her busy—wet—with teeth against her neck and she tried not to writhe as Anna toweled off her pleading body.
She would have done anything in that moment to surrender it.
In a whirl of action Alderose could not follow they dried, redressed and marched her forward. Anna dressed her in nothing but a robe, white in mock purity with no undergarments to follow.
Meat did not need clothes.
Though she wore the robe she still felt unbearably naked, presented and decadent in it’s flimsy protection. Slowly, as if to prove that, Gail drew her hands beneath it, gripping tight to the back of her trembling thighs. She husked against her neck but did not tease her bite, and Alderose swallowed a pitiful whine. Then she let out a sharp gasp as Gail picked her up, holding her against her chest by just the back of her legs with them both spread and pressed against her chest.
She’d been folded, like freshly laundered bedding.
She covered her face, as if it would stop the flush that crawled down her chest as Anna approached licking her lips. The motion of movement had caused her robe to openly display her freshly cleaned body.
“Perfect,” Anna said, with a hand against her inner thigh, warm and oppressive as she evaluated Gail’s presentation.
Gail rumbled at her back, “Give her a drink. I don’t want any mistakes.”
From within Anna’s skirting pocket she revealed a glass of round-bottomed shape. It was small, barely larger than her palm, with a red and light-reflective liquid.
Alderose panted, suddenly thirsty, and Gail tilted her pelvis upward drawing Anna’s glassy gaze to her gently contracting pussy.
She uncorked the bottle to reveal a slender neck—
“Yes…” Anna whispered as she spread Alderose’s still wet lips. “It’ll fit.”
But the glasses opening was lifted to the wrong pair—
The strangely shaped mouth pressed forward and entered, causing Alderose to cry out as her inner walls spasmed, welcoming the invasive undeniable presence. The small amount of liquid rushed forward, somehow hot and lively as it splashed her inner walls. Reflexively her pussy swallowed, taking the wine that Alderose swore she somehow tasted.
Her brain itched at the thought as Anna rubbed a smooth thumb against the side of her clit.
Then the bottle was removed, and the wine remained in her inner belly.
“It won’t come out.” Anna confirmed, and indeed Alderose’s inner walls had unbearably tightened, commanded beyond her will to keep the strange fluid inside.
“Good,” Gail said as she placed her on the feet. “Let’s go then. We’re late enough.”
With only a pause to grasp the locksmith belt once forgotten on the floor, Gail led them out of her desolate home and into the setting sun of a dangerous world.
Onward to Griswall Hall.