Malignity Of Stone

Chapter Seven: A Restoration Of Gender Roles

by alectashadow

Tags: #cw:incest #cw:noncon #dom:female #f/f #pov:bottom #sub:female #blowjob #boots #clothing #cock_worship #cocksucking #conditioning #D/s #demotion_fetish #dom:male #f/m #foot_fetish #foot_kissing #foot_worship #humiliation #hypnosis #misogyny #multiple_partners #office #oral #pov:top #sadomasochism #school #sisters #slave #slavery #sub:feminism #workplace

Cindy

I was little better than a dog.

As I panted on all fours on the floor, eagerly waiting for my owner to signal me her pleasure or displeasure, I truly understood the concept of desperately yearning for validation. If I’d had a tail, I would have wiggled it. 

Unfortunately for me, Irene was paying me no mind right now. She was tired, and duly so, after spending the better part of an afternoon slowly and methodically disassembling every part of me that identified as a domme, and was now enjoying a foot tongue bath from Cathy. 

Unlike me, Cathy needed no breaking. Burns, Nick and I had already ruined her beyond repair, I realized. Nothing remained of the person she used to be. She was a little, simpering mess, happy to slavishly lap at the bottoms of Irene’s feet. 

Unfortunately, after today, I was well on the way to join her. 

A small part of me still recoiled at seeing Irene in this house, sitting on my sofa like it was nothing, one leg draped over the other, eyes closed and face distended in pleasure as Cathy debased herself to massage her feet with her tongue.

This house had been a sanctuary. At school, I was Nick’s girlfriend and Burns’ humble servant, a demure girl whose lesbianism very much played second fiddle to the patriarchal authority being exercised on me on a daily basis. It was painful, humiliating, and traumatising.

This was a safe space, the space where I could be my old self, be in charge, assert my authority over my older – and yet now little – sister. 

But I was no longer the queen of the house. Now I was on my knees too, and my old school rival had won a crushing victory over me. 

My body was a vortex of overpowering sensations. My tongue ached after spending most of the afternoon, licking Irene’s boots and feet, and sucking the sweat out of her socks. She’d edged me for hours as I performed my duty, and she was right – I did learn to associate serving her with pleasure, at record speed at that, especially because such pleasure was always denied to me. 

The way Irene touched me – every part of me – to stimulate my body and crash my nervous system was impressive and terrifying. She was thorough, systematic, like she was conducting an experiment on me. The words she coaxed out of my mouth… the declarations of inferiority, utter surrender, adoration, and love… she pulled them out of me with the deftness of her fingers.

And withdrew them, cruelly, every time.

I almost envied Cathy for her remorseless slavishness. She’d accepted her lot in life. Irene had stopped even trying to get a raise out of her, it was impossible: she was a doormat, and now being used as such. Stomped into the dirt like a squeaky toy.

But me, now? My denied arousal burned inside me like an animalistic, uncontrollable need. It overrid my decision-making, made me feel single-mindedly stupid.

Simplified. Reduced. Demoted. Disassembled.

Where before there was a heady concoction of plans, ambitions, fears, and opinions – all that makes us who we are as a person – there now was nothing except the raw need of a domesticated animal.

That, and Irene’s will.

If only I could get to cum, then maybe I could think clearly again…

“Having fun, whore?” Irene asked, without opening her eyes. I sensed her question wasn’t directed to Cathy.

“Please…” I whispered, whimpering. 

“Please what?”

“Please Miss Cain…” I said, cringing at the words that were coming out of my mouth. “I accept your lesson, acknowledge your victory, do with me as you will, just please please please finish me off, I, I can’t…”

“Remember what I told you in the parking lot?” Irene said, smirking, eyes still closed. “I do. Word for word. I keep turning the words in my mind, they sound so good.” 

I whimpered.

“I’m going to break you in with my cunt,” Irene recited, “cut off your air supply with it, make you worship it like your life depends on it, ride your faces so hard you can never think of yourselves as anything but a sex toy ever again. And all of that, only for starters”.

“I remember, Miss Cain,” I said, hanging my head downwards in defeat. 

“So far, you’ve gotten a feast of boots and feet. But perhaps it’s time I truly did break you.”

I didn’t even have time to stare at her in horror. With swift and rapid motion she’d lunged off the sofa and towards me, leaving Cathy stupefied and kneeling by the sofa. 

Irene crashed into me like a quarterback, sending me careening onto the floor, her weight landing atop mine, her muscles rippling against my flesh. 

“I want you to struggle,” she whispered, her voice edged with lust. “Put every single ounce of resistance you have left into this moment. Because when I’m done, I want you to be all out of resistance. Forever.” 

I didn’t need her prompting. My body reacted by instinct, wiggling and thrashing against the abuse I knew was coming, but I felt weakened by hours and hours of edging and torment, and Irene was so strong and self-assured as she snaked up towards my face, rubbing her sex against every inch of my body in the process, marking me with her scent like I was part of her territory. 

I flailed like a bucking bronco, until her hands gripped my wrists in an iron clutch, and pushed downwards. 

I was pinned, all too conscious of my legs flailing about uselessly as Irene switched to a sitting position. Her knees landed on my forearms, making me groan and whimper in pain. She towered above me, obscuring the light from the window, her face stretched into a feral smirk. 

“Is this all you’ve got?” 

I bucked and thrashed, but my hips had nowhere near enough energy left to throw her off. I considered lifting my legs to try and kick or push her off, but before I could even try, she reached back with her arms to grab my ankles. 

Now I was really in trouble. With my arms pinned under Irene’s legs, and my own legs kept cative by her arms, I couldn’t even move without her compliance. Hell, between the compression of my chest and Irene’s weight above me, my breathing was getting a little ragged. 

I was sure it was about to get a lot worse.

With a final look full of contempt at my weakness, Irene began to slide forward. 

I let out muffled screams of protest as her cunt adhered to my mouth like a seal, leaving only my nose to poke out. Like this, she truly dominated the entirety of my field of vision – she seemed so large, almost otherworldly, and she intimidated the hell out of me. 

I still did as she wanted me to, and as I wanted to. I struggled. I attempted to wiggle my head left and right, but that only seemed to increase her stimulation, and besides, I barely had any true wiggle room, with her crushing weight pressing down upon my face. 

As my heart raced and adrenaline pumped into my system, I kept staring at this girl’s grin with eyes wide with hatred and fear. What had I ever done to her to deserve this treatment? And why was I too weak to cast off her iron rule over me? 

“My terms are simple,” she said. “Licking and breathing are bundled together for you now. You won’t be doing one without the other. So, start licking… or else.”

“Mmmmpphhh!” 

“Just like I thought,” she said. “That’s it. I like it when the prey is feisty.” 

She slid even further forward over my face, engulfing my nose within her folds, pulling my head deeper until the tip of my nose was pressing against her clit. 

It wasn’t long ago that I’d done the same thing to Cathy, but I had to recognise that next to Irene, I was an amateur. She immediately started humping my face, dragging her slick cunt over my lips, using my nose like mere masturbatory aid to get off. 

She gyrated atop my face, grinding her pussy atop me and in turn my own face into the floor. She had me bent over a barrel, almost literally, and all the while, my own arousal screamed for her attention, for satisfaction, for relief. 

My oversexed nervous system was starting to wind down, to lose coherence. I could think of nothing that wasn’t humping, and increasingly I saw myself as the receiver, the submissive receptacle of other people’s loads – the ultimate act of subordination. Irene had the whip hand over me, and I was chattel.

Next to her, I truly was no domme. In fact, I was her living, breathing vibrator at the moment, and both my physical strength and my mental resilience were insufficient to defend myself. 

As her thighs closed around my ears, muffling my hearing, I was now truly beginning to struggle to breathe. 

I moaned and bucked, thrashing with my trapped hands, praying that she would get off soon. My heart was racing like crazy. 

After the longest few seconds of my life, Irene lifted herself by mere inches, her sex hovering over my face.

“Are you going to be a good girl and start licking?” 

“Fuck y-mmmppphh!!” My words drowned as she lowered herself to smother me again. 

I wasn’t sure how long I was going to sustain this hopeless rebellion. It was just too much. The humiliation, the sadism, the physical and mental overstimulation, the teasing and edging, the oxygen deprivation… I couldn’t keep it together. My whole body and brain were going haywire. 

Again, Irene lifted herself, granting me precious mouthfuls of fresh air.

“And now?” 

“Leave me al-ghhnnnnhh!” 

This time, she sat atop me for long enough that my vision began to darken. I was dimly aware of the thrashing of my own limbs growing weaker and weaker. I truly was prey, being subdued by the lioness. After Burns and Nick, now she had me too. It was my place in life. 

When she finally lifted, I drew in blessed lungfuls of air. They burned, but it was a sweet burn. I coughed, with my eyes tearing up. 

What the hell was I doing? I let Burns treat me like I was a little pet, I let Nick force me to play submissive girlfriend to his every whims, and I’d already licked Irene’s boots and feet. What was this arbitrary line about oral even about?

Save for Cathy, no one else was below me at this point. I simply had no ounce of resistance left within me. Just like Irene said.

“And now?” Irene asked, once more. 

And for some reason, my thoughts went to the stone. 

The way it spun in Burns’ office, as his words slithered into my ears unimpeded. The sudden racing of my heart as I realized what my deepest fears truly were about. 

So rather than answer, I fired back with a question of my own. 

“Am I an insufferable bitch?” I asked, my lips trembling as tears danced in my eyes. “Unlovable and unlikeable?”

Irene chuckled, seemingly amused by my non-sequitur. “Of course you are. You deserve everything I’m doing to you, and more.” 

“If I s-s-submit…” I said, desperately trying to keep my voice from breaking up, “will you l-l-like me?”

“Now now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Irene said, mindlessly humping my chin with her sex. “Let’s say I could maybe tolerate your presence if you were nothing more than a human pet.” 

I nodded, silently. That would have to be enough for me. 

And so, I closed my eyes, lifted my head, and got to work – and when my upper lips met her lower lips, it felt like a seal on my new status in life. 

As a cuntpet. A pussyslave. A handmaiden. A servant girl. 

But not an insufferable bitch. Not anymore. Never again.


***


Cathy

“It’s my fault, really,” Burns said, scratching his chin in thought. 

I tittered before him like a schoolgirl waiting to be scolded. I knew I’d done the right thing. I’d given myself to Irene, just like he said I should have done with Nick right from the off. But his facial expression was unreadable, and his response, cryptic. 

That was enough to send my stupid girl’s heart into a tizzy, of course. What if he disapproved of me? What did I do wrong? I could still smell and taste every inch of Irene’s body – her feet in particular – on my lips and tongue. Wasn’t that what Burns wanted for me? To make me into a trick-turning whore?

“You see, Cathy,” he continued, “when a child does something especially irresponsible and stupid, it’s the parents’ fault. They’re the responsible adults in the scenario provided. They’re the educators and guardians.” 

The old me might have said but I’m not a child, and besides, I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. But that old me was gone, slowly moulded and modelled and whipped into shape under Burns’ powerful, masculine, authoritative hands. So I kept my cocksucking mouth shut, and nodded submissively.

I knew he liked it if I kept my legs barely bent, just so, to make me look a little shorter. I matched that with a slightly bent posture, pouty lips, and lowered eyes. Everything about me screamed low. It also communicated deference, servility, obedience. 

Instinctually, I always acted like I was about to be scolded, and sought refuge in my female vulnerability to shield myself, as so many women have done before, in this cruel patriarchal world.

“It’s a bit like that with men and women,” Burns said, taking a long draft from his cigar. “Especially with dumb, worthless sluts like you. You’re just not good enough to think for yourself, and that’s not your fault. I should have given you clearer instructions.” 

At this point I was openly whimpering like a dog. What did I do wrong? Why couldn’t I hold down any job? Why was I born so stupid?

“Sir…” I started. “It’s just that with Nick… you told me I should have been… immediately available… protect your position…”

“Shhh, shhh,” he said, silencing me, not unkindly. “I know, little pet. You were doing what you thought was best. Come here and suck my cock while I explain to you why you’re too stupid to ever do anything right.” 

Tears welled in my eyes, and my lips trembled, but obedience steadied myself. Burns really was like pure steel, and by obeying him, I strengthened myself too. Who knew where I’d be without him? 

So I shuffled forward, sinking to my knees and crawling under the desk, defeated and domesticated. How many times have I performed this ultimate pledge of loyal service to male rule? How many more await me in the future? 

I didn’t hesitate in my role as a piece of office furniture. No sooner was I under the desk that my lips sealed around his cock with familiar devotion, and I immediately started hollowing my cheeks, bobbing my head up and down, and making all the wet slutty gagging noises I knew him to like. 

Nothing about this was even remotely built for female pleasure – it was all him. He got the nice, sloppy, respectful, submissive blowjob. I got his fat dick in my mouth, the stuffiness underneath the chair, the cold hard floor against my knees, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair, and literally nothing else. It was humiliating, and demeaning, and inconsiderate…

And hot. And purely because of they psychological and physical mastery he displayed over me, my pussy spasmed all the same.

“See,” he said, his hands running possessively through my hair. “I have no objection to Irene using you and your sister. Hell, you exist to please your superiors, really. I was the one to teach you that lesson, I’m hardly going to tell you that your consent matters. It really, really doesn’t.” 

As if to prove his point, I punctuated his words with loud, slutty sucking sounds – basically all I did at Crawford High these days. Use any one of my holes to obediently and punctilously milk as much cum out of Burns and Nick’s cocks as I could. 

“However,” he continued, “what disappoints me is that you were so stupid that you got caught. You gave Irene the ammunition and confidence she needed to start using you. On the one hand this is incredibly amusing. You just can’t help interact with people without being enslaved by them, can you? That’s your lot in life. With a leash on your neck and a cock in your mouth.” 

Every inch of my body, all my mental energy, it was all purely devoted to serving, and pleasing, and taking load after load after load…

“Still, you got caught, and now I have to deal with both Irene and Nick having rights to your holes. This annoys me, Cathy. It makes my work more complicated. A good secretary is supposed to make my life simple, not hard. Which is why I’m afraid I have to review your position.” 

My eyes widened in horror, but Burns’ firm grip on my head ensured that I stayed in place, acting like a good holster for his cock. His pacing increased, and my body quivered with the combination of arousal, humiliation, adrenaline, and fear. 

I was being demoted, overpowered, and mouthfucked, all at the same time, and it was too much for my rudimentary female nervous system to take. I was going to crash.

“Yes, that’s it, take it. Deeper. Show me your gratitude as I demote you.” 

And I did, sucking for all I was worth, trusting him to chart whatever future he deemed suitable for me. I didn’t have any say in it.

“Don’t worry, slut. I’ve got a position in mind that even a simple-minded girl like you couldn’t possibly screw up. One that suits you much better than being a teacher.” 

I existed to sheathe his cock.

“You’ll be my maid.” 

There was nothing in my head, save for what was in my mouth. The object of my oral worship.

“Your duties will be simple. You’ll cook and clean for me. You’ll spend your days barefoot in the kitchen – save for the stockings I’ll have you wear, of course. Your human interactions will only be with me, Cindy, Irene, Nick – people who are your superiors and can be trusted to supervise you, just to make sure you don’t fuck up.” 

Even as my intellect began shutting down, my thoughts trickling down my thighs with my arousal, a small, dim part of me could still appreciate the work of art that Burns had done with me. 

Isolating me, like in a cult. Slowly severing, altering, or poisoning every one of my human interactions, until all that remained was – well, slavery.

“I have even more security measures I want to implement to make sure that you do this one job right, and I don’t have to fire you. There’s no easy way to put it, so let’s just rip off the bandaid. You’re being rolled back to when women weren’t legally adults.” 

Oh God. I was so utterly ruined that the mere idea of being reduced in this way set ablaze a fire of arousal the likes of which I’d never experienced.

“That’s right. I’m stripping you of your political and civil rights. No more voting. No more activism of any kind – in fact you have no right to personal opinions any longer. You’ll give me control of your bank account, you couldn’t possibly be trusted with your own money.”

I moaned around his cock, and it was a murmur, a question, and a prayer… and the humming clearly pleased him. 

He was fucking my face like it was a fleshlight at this point.

“The alternative is you just get fired.”

Never. I would never let him down, ever again. I’d failed as a teacher, failed as a secretary…

But I wouldn’t fail at this. At being his maid, his whore, his little brain-poisoned gender traitor, his submissive girl who cums her brains out to the thought of surrendering her career and bank account to the iron fist of the patriarchy, and would rather choke on cock than take in air. 

I knew my Sir well enough to tell when he was getting close, but he was making one last, final attempt at pacing himself.

“If you agree to my terms…” he said, panting, with the last of his self-control, “swallow.”

I closed my eyes to give him the most devoted porn-star blowjob face that I could, sealing my lips even tighter around his cock. 

And when he exploded into my mouth, coating my throat with his cum to mark me as his property, signing our new contract like this, I gulped it all down, swirling with my tongue to make sure I caught it all.

And surrendered to the rules that would define the rest of my life.


***


Cindy

I entered the club on Nick’s arm. But it felt more like I was being led in by a leash. 

The first thing that struck me about the place was how utterly ordinary my presence was.

I was dressed like… well, like the sexed-up parody of a waitress, in glossy black nylons and high heels, with a frilly skirt calling attention to my thighs, and a blouse purposefully tightened to emphasise my tits. I felt like a clown on stilts, and a neon light for male sexual interest.

But when I entered the club on Nicks’ arm, nobody turned to look at me. 

I soon realized why, and it made me shiver. 

The only people sitting in this place were men. Reclined in leather chairs and on sofas, puffing on fat cigars, downing shots of expensive liquor, and conversing with one another over the most varied topics. 

The place was full of women, but none of them seemed to have right to use the armchairs.

They were all dressed like me. Some carried trays with drinks, others knelt humbly by the sofa, massaging the feet of their male overlords, and others still were on their knees for a different reason. As we passed a secluded alcove protected by wooden panels, I was all too aware of a raven-haired head bobbing up and down, sucking demurely on some occupant who sat behind the panels. 

The club’s furniture was exquisitely refined. Dark mahogany, quality leather, fancy libraries with leather-bound texts, suffused lighting to give an atmosphere of intimacy. It smelled of man-sweat, leather, alcohol, cigar smoke…

And sex. 

Us women, we were part of the furniture. Waitresses and serving girls, deft fingers and waiting mouths. 

By the way Nick held his head high as he strolled in, I figured it must be his first entrance with a dolled-up female prey he can show off. But few people noticed us. The adults in the room have clearly seen all this before, and maybe more, so much more… 

I was so common here that I basically disappeared. Just another whore, here to serve her betters. 

The knowledge that these places existed, right under the nose of the law and public opinion and Me Too, was already terrifying. But the worst part? That I, a lesbian, was to spend an entire afternoon in this place, and would obey men’s orders without question. 

That finally broke something within me. 

It was the moment when I stopped thinking of myself as Cindy first, and started to think of myself as woman in the most generic terms instead. A member of a lesser gender, a piece of human livestock for men to play with as they see fit. What importance did my sexual orientation have, when I was in the power of the patriarchy? They got to decide how my body was used. Not me. 

And these weren’t regular men, either.

Most people in attendance were fifty or older, and they reminded me of Burns. Stocky or fat, balding, but with the aura of wealth that always surrounds the brazen rich and powerful. A few of the others were just like Nick, 20-year-old bullies and jocks who strutted about with the self-confidence of a young lion, who knows the pride will be his to rule some day.

I could literally smell the winner mentality from here, and wouldn’t need to take a guess as to who these men voted for, or what they thought about gender equality.

The fellow women were all young adults like me, women with dreams of a career that were now being squashed in the iron fist of the patriarchy. Would we even be allowed to vote at all?

If Nick forbade me to, would I obey?

He snapped his fingers, breaking me out of my reverie. 

“I’m here to discuss business,” Nick said. “Grab a tray and make yourself useful.” 

“Yes Sir,” I said, blushing, and headed for the bar.

No words or directions were spoken. None were needed. I was simply given a tray. I began to carry the drinks around, not in any particular direction, just hovering around the tables to allow men to grab any drinks they wished. 

I felt even more demeaned than if I had to be a real waitress. Waitressing is hard, it requires real skills, organization, coordination. But what I was doing… a roomba could have done it with equal efficiency. I took no orders, coordinated with no-one, I simply and wordlessly grabbed the tray and walked in circles. 

The intellectual and psychological devastation was pressing me into a thin, thin fabric that barely resembled the person I used to be. 

Men had crushed me. I would no longer be free. Lesbian or no, I would always be theirs. Nothing could ever undo the fact that I was acting as a slavish waitress to a roomful of the sort of people I used to despise the most on planet Earth.

When at last I got to Nick’s table, the tray was taken off my hands by another serving girl. All of a sudden, I was extremely conscious of the hungry stares looking at me from around the table. The men had stopped their game of cards, whatever it was – they were all old save for Nick, and the one who seemed to command attention at the table put down his cigar, ogling every inch of my body.

“So this is the fine little doe you brought to the club today,” the man said, his voice rough from years of smoking. “How about we give her a test ride?” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” Nick said, not even looking in my direction as he casually tossed my consent away like a bone being thrown to the dogs. “She’s technically a dyke, but I’ve been teaching her, and you won’t find someone who sucks a better cock.” 

That sent the table into an uproar of hysterical laughter. The man who’d first spoken slammed his meaty hand on the table, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“You made a lesbian into your prim and proper bedwarmer? Well done, lad. You’ll have to tell me the whole story one day.” 

“To be sure,” Nick said, nodding. “But the truth is she’d do anything to not be considered an insufferable bitch.”

There.

Those were the magic words.

As if by outside intervention, I found myself descending to my knees. Inside me, my mind was screaming at me, telling me to stop, to get out. I’d accepted Burns’ oversight over my life, even though he was a man. I’d even accepted being turned into Nick’s girlfriend just to have a solid alibi for life. 

But now here I was, a lesbian in a room fully devoted to female objectification and male pleasure, sinking submissively to my knees as if on autopilot, and crawling under the big mahogany table like I’m a piece of furniture or a lapdog or some kind of weird fuckpet whose place is out of sight, and… 

And before I knew it, cocks were coming at me in all directions, all stiff, prodding, rubbing against my skin. 

They were all different sizes and shapes, and Nick’s stood out as the only one clearly belonging to a man my own age, but they were all equally gross, slimy, musky… I shivered, goosebumps racing across my skin as I tried to countermand the switch of absolute obedience that had overridden my brain.

I wasa lesbian, in a club that might as well be named misogyny central, kneeling under a table, and surrounded by cocks. 

This situation was so absurd that I would have laughed, were it not for the tragedy. 

My defeated lesbian lips parted submissively around a massive cock as it forcefully entered my mouth. I took two more in my hands, knowing what was expected of me, and let the others rub against my cheek, my ears, my hair, my vulnerable neck. 

I began to stroke and suck, making myself into a masturbatory aid for a tableful of men that were marking my skin with their scent, claiming me as their property. 

The man I was sucking off grew restless with my gentle ministrations. He started pistoning into my mouth, inching the tip of his dick further down my throat, with no regard to what I was used for. When I coughed and fought down my gag reflex, he seemed to enjoy it.

He battered my mouth with his cock as I knelt there, diminished and stripped of independent personhood, no longer a free woman, but a female sex slave in a men’s world. He was prying me open, and every other cock under this table was asserting its superiority over my female status.

I was under sensory assault on all sides, with dicks literally flying at me in every direction, slapping me, rubbing against me, leaving trails of precum everywhere. It was too much. I was crumbling. I would surrender. I would give up my lesbianism in their honor, do everything they wanted, let them remodel me however they saw fit.

My squelching throat sounded more and more like a surrogate pussy for the men to use at their leisure.

“That’s it,” the old man said above me. I blushed. Instinctively, I went for the cock of the man I identified as an alpha at this table. “That’s the one proper use for dykes if you ask me.” 

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Nick asked.

“Very,” the man responded. “You’re training her well.”

“Perhaps we should show her the basement,” another man said at the table. 

“Haha, you must really like this one then!” Another interjected.

“Or really dislike her.” 

That sent shivers of cold dread down my spine. If this was the public face of the club, what would be awaiting me in the basement?

“Are you sure she’s ready?” Nick asked. “I haven’t seen that side of the club often, but…”

“Trust me,” the boss said. “It’s as wild as the stories would have you believe… but there’s no better, or faster way to break in a filly like this one.” 

“Alright sir,” Nick said. “The basement it is.” 

And with that, with my future so casually decided, the first ropes of cock started landing atop my exposed skin, while the huge dick in my throat twitched and then released, and released, and released.

I took load after load like the cum dumpster I’d now become, and swallowed all I could. 

And judging from the words of my new male conquerors, later this evening there would be many more to come…

The epilogue of Malignity Of Stone is already available on my Patreon! By subscribing, you can request commissions, read exclusive stories, get early access to new chapters, make direct fan requests, and more: http://bitly.ws/grAn

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