Chapter Eleven
A haze of red washes over my vision as the vine thrusts the cock swiftly forward, spearing deep into my passage. I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think about anything but the pain, but I cannot look away from the horrible sight of the length vanishing into my body. The bulbous knot at the base bumps me and I pray that it’s simply too much, that it can’t penetrate me, but the pressure increases for only a breath before the impossible strength of the vine forces it forward, splitting me while I scream my agony and keep my eyes open wide.
“There,” Luthian croons, stroking back my sweat-damp hair and caressing my jaw with his elegant fingers. He wipes tears from my face that are instantly refreshed. Still, I stare up at the sight of my body opened by the monstrous vines. “The worst of it is finished.”
I trust him not to inflict permanent harm on me. I don’t trust him not to inflict more pain. I clench my jaw, grind my teeth against the tearing and aching and throbbing that have coalesced into one and lie, “Thank you, Guardian.”
The image above me changes, and I once again see myself bound and splayed. The vine at my cunt has almost completely withdrawn, the ridge at the tip of the phallus just visible between my folds. It pushes back in with the same terrible slowness.
“As I said, the worst of it,” Luthian goes on, as I knew he would.
There is always a catch.
“It’s still going to be terrible, of course.”
My breasts are numb, swollen and purplish in the reflection. Luthian pinches one of my protruding nipples, but I barely feel it. Then, he pets the vines that hold my breasts bound, and the fall away, revealing a multitude of pinpricks that weep droplets of blood as my pulse rushes back into my denied flesh. A new ache, a new horrid throbbing, but his hand moves lower, to my clit, red and swollen and slick and straining. I watch warily as his fingers gently find me and work my hood back and forth over the delicate nerve, the smooth metal ring stimulating me with barely any pressure.
“Would you like to come, Cenere?” he asks, rubbing in slow, steady circles as the vampire cock pushes deeper.
Unbelievably, I do. After the horror and pain I’ve experienced, somehow, my body rouses at his attentions. “Oh, please, Guardian.”
He kisses my cheek. “My pet is very good at fucking, Cenere. But I think it’s sad.”
I squeeze on the organ filling my cunt, my muscles tightening with impending release. The pace of Luthian’s finger is maddening. If only he would speed up a bit...
“Why is it sad, Guardian?” I ask, breathless with need.
“Because it thinks you don’t like it, of course.” He sounds teasingly sympathetic to the monstrosity he’s created. “You’re not having any fun.”
“I’m sorry, Guardian.” It’s becoming more difficult to concentrate on anything but his too-gentle touch on my clit.
“It’s so good at fucking, and you don’t appreciate it.” He clucks his tongue. “It will have to work harder, I think, to win your affection.”
The cock in my ass tugs backward, as if to withdraw its huge knot, and my eyes widen. To my relief, it does not. It does, however begin to pump in short, stabbing thrusts that take my breath away on a fresh wave of pain. But I’m so close to my climax, it can’t distract me. My toes curl, joints popping. Almost there... almost...
The phallus in my cunt has completely buried itself once more. This time, when it begins to withdraw, it goes a bit faster, then strokes forward faster, as if it’s building toward something.
I’m building, too, toward a release I desperately crave, hoping it will drive away my body’s memory of all I’ve endured so far. Luthian’s fingers circle and circle, until—
“Come,” he commands, but pulls his fingers away before I do.
“No!” I scream in desperation, my climax bursting and fading without stimulation. It’s gone, escaped me, stranded me in nothing but my stubbornly lingering pain.
His hand, which has just brought me so much pleasure, lashes out with a stinging slap across my face. “That is twice now. A third time, and I’ll grant your wish.”
And I’ll lose all of mine, I realize. “I’m sorry, Guardian!”
“What are you sorry for?” he demands.
“For...” It’s becoming difficult to speak; the vine in my cunt is going faster now, the one in my ass is jerking forward and back rapidly. “I’m sorry for my greed, Guardian.”
Another climax explodes through me in a shower of white-cold sparks that fizzle up my back and down my legs, making me shiver with the pleasure.
“What else?” he demands.
My mouth hangs slack, frozen in my wordless cry. I fight to continue, to find a reason I should need to apologize. “For denying you, Guardian!”
Another orgasm comes on the heels of the first, before it can fade away, and I realize that it’s Luthian doing this, commanding my body to enjoy what’s happening despite the violation and pain.
“What else?”
What else, indeed? I want to scream. The vines pummel in and out, and the reflection changes back to the angle I saw before. My thighs, the surface of the vines, and of course, the phalluses gleam with the sheen of the greasy unguent mingled with my own gushing juices.
“For insulting your pet with my ungratefulness, Guardian,” I moan over the obscene squelching of my cunt.
“Very good, my honey flower. I think it’s happy now. It’s going to reward you.”
The vines supporting my back fall away, peeling off in an agony of hooked barbs leaving my skin. I’m held aloft only by their grip on my wrists and ankles, and the weight of my body drives me more fully onto the invading appendages. My voice has long since lost its capacity for screaming. A ragged sob is all I can manage.
“When it does,” Luthian goes on, “You’ll be incapacitated for quite some time. You see, werewolves and vampires have their unusual physical attributes, which are useful. But did you know that ogres have an advantage that has nothing to do with their size?”
“No, I didn’t, Guardian.” How can I still speak, impaled on this disgusting monster? How can my body still find pleasure in this depravity? But as I watch the vines do their work, I revel in how disgusting they look, how filthy and slimy. I find myself longing for it to be worse, to have a cock in my mouth, in my hands, to be suspended in a net of foul vines and disembodied phalluses that take my body over and over again.
“You’re about to discover it,” Luthian promises. “For while I used the werewolf and the vampire, they’re merely vessels for the ogre’s particular advantage. And I see that my pet is about to spend. The first time, anyway.”
The thought of the horrid creature filling me with its seed makes me gag in revulsion, but it’s too late; the vine in my ass stills, stiffens, drives impossibly deeper and wrenching newfound pain as it fills spaces it hasn’t yet touched. I feel a thick, hot squirt of something deep in me and shudder, vomit burning my throat in a warning. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
Don’t think about being taken by a featureless monster, an abomination.
I sob in disgust.
The phallus in my cunt thrusts with dizzing speed that rocks me in my bindings, faster and faster while I kick my legs and howl. My mind screams for help, for pity, for anything but this, to no avail. The vampire cock thrusts so deep it fully disappears into my helpless body, and bathes my core with another foul burst. A defeated, disgusted sob wrenches from me.
And then, I’m seized in pleasure so impossible that I forget to breathe. The cocks continue to discharge their fluids, and with every lurching eruption, I come again. I’m trapped in a tide of ecstasy that never recedes. It crests and deposits me onto the breaking swell of another and another, as hot, sticky cum overflows from my cunt and bathes my thighs. The bulging cock in my ass holds everything inside, though, and that’s even more intense; it’s how I know that it’s the plant’s seed that’s causing this reaction.
No, not the plant’s seed. Luthian had said—
“Ogre cum is incredible. I don’t know why more people don’t try it.” He scoops some off my thigh and rubs it between his hands before palming my breasts. The application of it causes another cycle of release, and it’s as if those climaxes race directly from my nipples to my spasming clit. “I’ve been with an ogre before, you know. They lock together during mating. It lasts for hours. Days, sometimes. I didn’t think I would survive.”
The plant continues to thrust, its unoccupied vines thrashing about as if in its own passionate throes. The tip of a vine touches my face and, to the horror of the only rational part of my mind that’s left, I open my mouth and tease it with my tongue. Its thorns drop away, and it pushes inside, darting touches on my tongue that are very like kissing. I suck it, tease it, rub my face against the length of it before it returns to my mouth. Another vine wraps my waist, this one without it thorns, as well; it holds me almost protectively, squeezes me like an embrace.
I can’t watch myself in the reflection anymore. I’m too lost in the ecstasy, in the depravity. I lavish the vine at my mouth with kisses, arch my back in the bonds that no longer hurt me.
“Yes,” I hiss against the stalk that caresses my face. “Oh, yes, fuck me!”
And though it already is, it replies to my request with fervor. It stretches my arms and legs as wide as it can and pumps itself into me, the cocks moving in time with each other, the vines holding me steady for its punishing thrusts.
“Oh, harder,” I moan, taking the vine at my mouth deeper, like I pleasured Luthian before. I break free and beg, “Don’t stop!”
I’m drunk on the unrelenting orgasms, intoxicated by the obscenity I’m committing. I want this beast to hurt me, to tear me to bits, to burst me apart with every inhuman thrust. I scream and struggle against it, kiss it and urge it along, hump my hips against the force of its invasion. I never want it to stop.
I don’t know how long it goes on. Perhaps days, as Luthian said. I know he’s spoken to me, but I haven’t been able to answer him. I don’t want to answer him. Even if he threatened to break our deal, I would not stop. I crave the vines. Tears stream from my eyes like the never-ending gush of wetness between my legs, like the senseless, babbling pleas from my mouth.
Then, it all...stops. The pleasure fades away, but I don’t mourn its loss. I’m replete, satiated beyond my wildest imaginings. The cocks soften and pull free, their sticky emissions splattering onto the base of the creature below me. I did not see it before, but the vines converge at a center point, a giant, rust-colored eye with a slit pupil.
It’s been watching me the entire time. I look up to the ceiling. The glass overhead is clear now, showing a starry sky.
It has been hours.
The vines begin to lower me, but they do not release. The phalluses, disembodied once more, plop softly, almost comically onto the floor.
“My pet is pleased with you,” Luthian says as one of the vines nuzzles against his face. The ones holding me tip me up, as if I’m standing with my arms and legs ridiculously spread in an anatomical illustration.
“I am pleased with it, Guardian.” My voice is a razor-lined rasp. I need water and sleep and perhaps to never come again.
“Good,” is the sum of Luthian’s response. But the creature doesn’t release me.
I look down at the eye. It blinks and rolls back, revealing what appears to be a kind of...mouth.
“Oh, is my precious hungry?” Luthian asks the vine that lies against his chest as if spent.
My heart hammers with reawaked fear. I know that Luthian won’t feed me to the monster, but now its strange jaws terrify me. Circular row upon circular row of tall fangs begin to rotate and rise in tiers. The smallest approaches my swollen, weeping center, those thorny teeth whirring. It touches my thigh and I brace for the tearing of my skin. But these thorns are soft, more like leaves, tickling as they buzz closer to my cunt.
“Do you know what a creature like this eats?” Luthian asks.
I can’t take anymore, I think, in a true panic. My muscles ache from straining. My cunt and ass are raw. I cannot, cannot climax again.
“They thrive on the essence of your orgasms.” He strokes the vine languidly. “Unfortunately, he didn’t get to taste any of yours. He must be starving.”
“Guardian!” I begin to plead, but it’s no use. I cry out in despair as the soft, wriggling worm of its mouth enters me.
Luthian gives me a cruel smile and says, “All right, my lovely pet. Feed.”
* * * *
"Where do you go?"
It's a struggle to open my eyes. I'm so warm and content and relaxed in my bath. The fire crackles in the hearth and Luthian's fingers are delicious on my scalp as he washes my hair. "Hmm?"
His fingers still, and a smile crosses my mouth. "'Hmm,' Guardian?"
His chuckle flows like melted wax through my veins. How can I want more from him when I should be satisfied for days?
"You push through your fear, escape your pain somehow. All of my students do, but it's something some must be taught. You allow yourself to enter that place without instruction. I want to know..." He dips his fingers into the water and trails droplets up my arm before returning to my head. "Where do you go?"
I’ve been here, in this bathtub, in his arms, for what seems like hours, but my skin hasn't chilled, the water hasn't cooled, and he's taken his time and care washing every part of me with soap whose lather never seems to pollute the tub. It's the most relaxed I've ever been in my life, and he wishes me to think?
I choose not to think, and instead let the words come out as they will. "I picture my revenge, Guardian."
Luthian's fingers still again.
Though he doesn't solicit further, I continue. "I imagine all of my pain as the pain that will be inflicted on him. Breaking his bones. Slashing his flesh. I envision making him kneel before me. I feel myself cutting his wings off."
My guardian hisses, goes rigid behind me.
"Soap is getting into my eyes, Guardian." Have I stunned him? Frightened him? Let him be a little afraid of me. Now that I've learned the power of fear, it tastes delicious.
"Those are quite inventive thoughts," he murmurs. There's a scrape of glass as he lifts a decanter from the small table beside us. Warm water pours over my head, rinsing the suds and vanishing any trace of the dirt they carry away. "I do hope you'll never direct that ire toward me."
"I don't think I would ever be able to, Guardian." I let my head loll back onto his shoulder as rivulets flow down my neck and breasts.
"Cenere, I could almost believe that you like me." He traces one of those watery paths down my chest, beneath the surface, and cups my mound. "Or at the very least, you don't resent me."
I close my eyes and sigh. "Why wouldn't I like you, Guardian? You're upholding your end of our agreement. You're going to make me a queen. And I'll be able to fulfill every one of my revenge fantasies."
When he speaks again, his tone is different. Not teasing. Softer, almost pleading. "Don't let them consume you, Cenere. Your spirit is too bright a flame to be extinguished by hatred."
He can’t possibly understand my hatred. There’s no way anyone could. My rage is my own, a terrible thing locked away in my heart, a burning ember I will tend and feed until the blaze of it consumes my mother’s killer.
“Yes, Guardian.” I close my eyes and give myself over to his tender hands smoothing over my body.
It’s the first promise I’ve made to him that I do not intend to keep.