Chapter Text
It wasn't difficult to get her to sleep. A simple wave of his hand and a little bit of directed aether and she fell forward straight into his arms, mumbling groggily, eyes fluttering closed as she fought for wakefulness. She was so pretty like this. Pliant, numb, a doll in his arms. All his to enjoy. And he intended to enjoy her. After all, he'd spent so much time setting up a room for her presence, leather straps on the bed to keep her still as she woke from her slumber to a nightmare.
The idea of her eyes fluttering open, falling fearful and wide as she took in what was happening to her... Emet-Selch practically hissed at the thought, his cock throbbing angrily between his legs as he imagined the cries that would stain her lips.
But first he had to get her home, then he could indulge as much as he wanted. Aether induced sleep was restful, after all, but not at all long - about a half hour of sleep. More than enough for the Ascian to get her where he wanted her... and just short enough to ensure she did not slumber through it all.
Plucking her into his arms he let darkness surround the pair and whisk them to the bedchambers he had set up, where he wasted no time gingerly placing her upon the bed. Letting his thumb brush across her lips, he palmed the length of her chest to the hem of her shirt, hooking a finger beneath it and pulling it upwards, letting shapely breasts fall free from under the clothing.
Simple small clothes protected her chastity, their edge just digging into the flesh as her breasts fought to tumble free under the pull of gravity.
Emet's breath caught in his throat. He had wanted to take his time unwrapping her; she was, after all, his gift, albeit one he gave himself.. But this was already too much. Unable to help himself, the Ascian snapped his fingers, casting aside the slow process of undressing her and leaving her bared before him, arms splayed beside her. There would be time aplenty in the future for him to undress her slowly and rediscover her anew, with the added bonus of her possible tears and struggle making it all the more entertaining.
With a stuttered breath the Ascian leant over her, taking her breast in his mouth and gently rolling his tongue over her flesh, watching as her brows arched ever so slightly in her sleep, her breath quickening. He could've stayed here forever, toying and watching as she trembled in her sleep, letting his hands roam hungrily over each dip and curve of her flesh, but there was little time before she woke up. There would be time enough to savor her reactions later, though they would be far from being so at peace.
Emet plucked at her limbs one at a time, so very carefully securing her to each corner of the bed before sitting back to adore his handiwork.
A doll, a puppet, so beautiful and innocent and pure. All his to sully. And until she awoke she wouldn't be any wiser. His cock throbbed angrily in its confines, and wasting little more time Emet freed himself, shifting atop her on the bed so that he straddled her neck, pressing the tip of his cock against her lips and rubbing across them to coat them in precum. No doubt when she awoke the salty taste would linger.
Emet's hand sank into her locks, plucking her head from where it rested on the bed and bringing it up, slipping a finger between her lips and prying them open so that he could slide his cock into her lulling mouth.
By Zodiark she felt divine. Soft and wet and so delicate with her lips parted loosely. It was far too loose to provide any real pleasure, but there was an excitement about staining her tongue with precum in her sleep that was all its own. It wouldn't do to spill his seed yet, he wanted her to be awake for that, but it felt exquisite when in her slumber she tried to swallow, lips and tongue brushing loosely over his glans.
He let his hand trail over his length a few times, oozing strands of precum into her mouth, before he pulled away, slipping two fingers between her lips and trailing them along her tongue as he let her head back down to rest.
He slid his fingers back and forth along her tongue, making sure they were coated in a mixture of saliva and precum, before he shifted down again, stepping with his knees on her sides until he was back between her legs. Bending a finger, he ran a knuckle along the outside of her sex before slipping between her folds, coating her entrance with the slick mixture upon his fingers. How his cock throbbed when he slid an initial finger into her, her sex hugging the intrusion as her breath hitched in her throat. She was so tight, he nearly pulled his finger out and thrust his length into her at once. It would leave pain, tearing and unpleasant, and as much as he wanted her to wake up with that uncomfortable sensation between her legs, he wanted more to watch her scream in pain while she was awake. For now all he wanted was a taste.
Steeling his nerves he slipped a second finger in, slowly easing them both into the hilt before stretching them outwards and working them within her, pushing her muscles to relax as much as they could in her unconsciousness. Gradually he slipped in a third, heart leaping to his throat with each stuttered breath that left her lips.
When finally he thought he'd worked her open enough to the point penetration was possible, Emet shifted forward, easing his body carefully over her, making sure he didn't pin his weight upon her, and pressing his length against her entrance before thrusting and sheathing himself within her all at once, delighting in the slightly sharper breath that tumbled from her throat. Even with all his prior ministrations she hugged him like a vice, and he liked to imagine the scream that would have torn from her throat had she been awake. But pain was far more enjoyable when one was awake, and he had more painful plans for that.
It took little more than a few thrusts within her before she began to grumble and stir, and Emet let his cock slip out of her, shifting backwards so that he sat between her spread legs. Soon she would feel an echo of where he had been, stretched and uncomfortable. Soon she would taste the salt of precum on her lips. Oh how the idea of it had him practically trembling with excitement; the change of her expression as she registered what had happened. The horror, the fear.
As she came to her lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them, and then her brows furrowed as she swallowed, saltiness lingering on her lips, a groan leaving her throat as discomfort swelled within her body and registered in her mind.
What...
It wasn't until she tried to shift and was met with resistance, limbs pulling on her restraints, that her eyes snapped open and darted down to see her captor.
Her lips opened to speak, but Emet was quicker, shooting forward to place his palm over her mouth.
"If you are wise, you will use your tongue not for words. Unless you desire to be gagged."
Her eyes gazed up at him, wide and fearful, and she swallowed. Emet felt his cock twitching. If it were any other time he would have cum from the expression on her face alone - it was so damned exquisite.
Even though she didn't nod, Emet let his hand slip from her lips, and for a moment she was silent. It did not last for long.
"What-"
With a sigh Emet snapped his fingers, conjuring from thin air a number of rags.
"I did tell you not to speak."
He slipped a finger between her lips before she could bite down to bar the intrusion, and began stuffing her mouth with the rags as she complained audibly and tried to shift her head away. He pressed with intent to ensure her tongue was pinned to the bottom of her mouth so that she couldn't use it to push away the gag and when he was satisfied she couldn't free her tongue, Emet snapped his fingers, tape settling over her lips as a last means of defense.
Listening to her beg and plead was exciting on its own, but right now he just wanted to hear her whimper and scream.
He let his hands trail along her sternum, watching how her chest rose and fell with each breath, her gaze fixed upon his. Beneath his palm he could feel her heart pounding angrily, and the slight shiver she gave as he let his palm brush over her abdomen to trace along the curve of her hip. What he was doing was so perverse.. and so delectable.
His fingers trailed to her breasts, eyes on hers as he took the pert flesh between thumb and forefinger and twisted abruptly, watching as she squirmed but did not cry out. This was the Warrior of Light, after all, it would take more than that to make her cry out in pain.
He dipped his head to take the sensitive bead in her mouth, fingers trailing over her abdomen and back between her legs, rolling against her clit momentarily before diving into her again, stealing a sharp inhale from her and yet more squirming as he pumped aggressively into her, scissoring his fingers and rubbing against her walls.
And still she did not scream when he pulled his fingers from her and brought his tip to her entrance, sheathing himself back where he had been just moments before. Still little more than a cry came forth from her throat, too accustomed to the sensation he had left behind, and so he elected to move immediately to the final act.
The Warrior of Light was not known for being lascivious, and so he gathered she did not have much experience in... other sexual acts. He could not have said with any certainty whether he would make her scream, but he dared to hope nonetheless.
Pulling his cock free from their joining, Emet let his finger trail along her perineum to her ass, where he pressed the tip of his finger against the taut ring of muscle. Initially he did not garner any response from her, save for the furrowing of her brows. It wasn't until he began to circle that she gazed at him with alarm in her eyes and began to shake her head. Oh how his head swam. She was going to scream for him after all.
He let his finger slip away from her ass, and false relief crossed her face, anxiety creeping back onto it when he only gazed at her with amusement in his eyes. His hand shifted to where her left side had been restrained, undoing first her leg and then her arm before swiftly flipping her over so that her right arm and leg were pinned below her own body weight. And then his finger slid back over her rear to her ass, pressing the tip into her and pulling a chorus of cries from her throat as her head began to shake fervently.
It did not matter to him how much she shook her head, she had no choice in the matter.
Emet moved carefully, freeing her other leg so that she lay mostly face down on the mattress and then shifting so that he pinned her legs down with his body weight, slipping his finger out of her and squeezing the copious flesh of her rear, spreading them to take a good look at her.
The Warrior of Light moved her free hand over her rear in a pitiful attempt to try and deter his efforts, but it took little for him to grab her wrist and pin it against her back.
It mattered not how much she fought him for this. It was exciting and exhilarating that she did, but it would not save her.
His finger slipped between her rear again, a single digit sliding into the hilt as she kicked and tried to crawl out from under him, grunts and soft pleas emanating from her throat.
As she kicked and squirmed, Emet slipped a second finger into her, delighting in how the pitch and volume of her cries increased, and then increased further still as he slipped a third into the tight hole, exploring her walls and stretching his fingers this way and that.
She hugged deliciously against his fingers, and it only confirmed Emet's prior suspicions , each cry from her throat, each fervent shake of her head sending him delirious with need.
When he finally thought he'd worked her open enough, Emet slipped his fingers from her and brought the tip of his cock to her entrance, rubbing it against the tight hole. Having just taken her all at once would have been divine in itself, but that could wait for another time - it was so much more exciting to watch her struggle as he teased with each step, watching her fear mount upon itself with each successive intrusion as he violated her in such a novel way.
Slowly he began to press himself into her, nearly cumming from the sheer vice-like grip of her untouched entrance alone. He let go of her wrist, and she brought her palm to her side, fist curling into the bed sheets as though it would somehow alleviate the pain.
As she began to tremble, soft strained cries emanating from her throat, he let his grip on his cock slip to her scalp, gathering her locks in a fist and yanking, pulling her head upright, the sudden pang of pain causing her to flutter around his length. With a growl Emet bucked his hips, unable to maintain the crawling pace any longer, sheathing the remainder of himself completely within her and rending a scream from between her lips.
His vision was spinning. The cry from her throat, and the whimpers that followed, stripped him of every ilm of control he had left. Growling, his free hand clamped down on her hip as he began to pump into her viciously, hand yanking backwards on her scalp as she screamed wildly with each thrust. It did not take long for tears to prickle from her eyes, muscles quivering in over exertion as she took the torment that was thrust upon her.
Emet shoved her face into the bed below her as he continued to thrust violently, pressing firmly as she pushed against his palm, muffled cries belying her struggle for breath. His free hand shifted to her breast and twisted again, and this time, unrestrained, she howled as pain mounted upon pain, her body trembling.
He wasn't going to last.
Wrapping his hands around her throat, Emet began to thrust furiously into her as her screams turned into choked garbles, her limbs twitching with each vicious pump and beginning to shift between spasming and falling limp as her air ran out. He could kill her, she was at his mercy. He could kill her and be free of her, but now that he had her there was far too much he wanted to do with her, he had no desire to part with her. Not yet.
Letting his eyes slip closed momentarily, Emet focused aether into his hands, pushing it into her veins and rendering her limbs leaden and useless, stripping her of her ability to move. The fight was up now, he just wanted to enjoy her screams, and oh how her cries increased in pitch as she realised what he had taken from her and fear filled her eyes.
He freed her remaining arm from its restraint and spun her around, smiling, before resuming pumping into her. The sheer panic on her face, each wail from her throat, was intoxicating. Truly she was his puppet, limbs splayed around her, useless.
Growling, Emet released another flood of aether within her, stripping her of her sight. Oh the cries, they were glorious. She gazed through him, eyes unfocused, but still wide and afraid, each thrust causing her to scream almost louder, each sensation amplified in her inability to fight it.
He was coming undone. His finger slid to her clit and began to roll mercilessly against it. He would make her cum, whether she liked it or not, a simple burst of aether would bring her undone. How humiliating, Emet thought, to cum in this way. But what better way to instill helplessness in someone?
He snapped his fingers, sending a concentrated burst of aether through her body and causing her to flutter around him.
"Your body betrays your desires, princess. Do you like my cock in your ass?"
She wailed and shook her head, distress plain on her face as her body quivered and betrayed her at his behest, clenching around him and bringing him to his release. His fingers dug into her waist, nails digging into the flesh as he thrust one final time, burying himself within her and unloading. Even now, as he stilled within her, she screamed and she cried, trying so dearly to fight against the aetheric bonds that stripped her limbs of their movement as warm cum burned at fresh wounds within her.
Growling, Emet pulled out and shoved himself into her cunt as he continued to twitch and spill, delighting in how her cries raised yet further still.
"You like being impregnated, you filthy whore?"
She wailed in response.
"Have my child for me."
He pulled out briefly, watching as his essence spilled from both her holes, and then pressed his softening cock back into her to keep it from leaking, letting his weight rest beside her.
Emet brought his palm to her face and trailed a finger along her cheek, wiping away the tears that still spilled as she sobbed. With a snap of his fingers he returned the movement of her limbs to her, and yet she lay still, splayed below him, the only movement of her body the trembling and quivering of it as she cried.
"I'm going to have you for a long time," he murmured, placing a kiss at the base of her collarbone and cupping her cheek in one hand.
Her eyes still gazed forward, unfocused and yet wide and unblinking, fearful and pained as she remained silent.
Emet lifted his hand to her face and tugged at the tape across her mouth, pulling it off and then plucking the rags from her mouth.
The Warrior of Light said nothing, letting her lips close and swallowing.
"I think I'd like to hear your screams more clearly this time."
Emet felt his cock twitch, beginning to harden again within her, and he knew she felt it too for a sob tore from her lips and she began to squirm, prompting him to pin her by her wrists to the bed.
"This hole this time, just to make sure it takes."
And as sobs wracked her body, Emet began to thrust within her again, purposefully grinding his hips into hers so that each push encouraged the essence already within her further up, closer to her womb.
Even with use of her limbs returned, her fight was weak, the pushes against his grip so pathetic he barely felt them. It wasn't until he buried himself into her and began to twitch as he came, hot strings of cum spilling into her, that she began to truly struggle again, but even then it was a fraction of the fight she had given earlier.
"Cum for me."
And when he snapped his fingers and ordered her body to cum, causing her to tremble and clench around him, tugging every last drop from him, her fight weakened further still, palms curling open and closed.
"Such a hungry whore. Your holes milk every last drop hungrily from my cock; your body wants me to cum in you, it wants to be impregnated."
She choked out a sob, shaking her head wildly, wrists pushing pathetically against his grip.
"I- I don't- I don't.."
She pushed against him weakly, before surrendering and letting her limbs fall limp against the bed.
"Given up already?"
He knew she hadn't, but he had exhausted her of her fight for today. He would have to come back another day if he wanted her fight renewed.
It wouldn't take long to break her spirit like this. After all, how long can one last when they're stripped of their senses, their movement, and forced to cum over and over in such humiliating ways? One couldn't last under that kind of torment. But she would last a long while; she was stronger than most.
He plucked at her wrists and placed them back in their restraints, before deciding against it and merely snapping his fingers, stealing control of her limbs back again, leaving her a splayed puppet on the bed as he pulled out of her, snapping his fingers and manifesting a plug in her cunt to keep his essence from spilling out of her.
For a brief moment he pondered over giving her back her sight, but the idea of her sitting and waiting in darkness, unable to move and never sure what she had coming sent a thrill of excitement through him. No, he would leave her like this, without her vision. Perhaps he would leave her permanently blinded too. The idea of sending her back out into the world without her vision, stumbling uselessly, oh it was so very exciting. A taste of hope, of freedom, only to easily be captured by him again and brought back to this nightmare, helpless. How delicious.
Emet leant over her, dotting a kiss on her forehead.
"I will see you tomorrow, princess."
He had so much he wanted to do with her, and all the time in the world to do it.
It didn't take him long to break her. What can one do against someone so powerful they can literally render your body motionless and strip you of your senses with a single thought? She could run, but he could cause her feet to fail. She could fight, but he could turn her limbs to lead. She could fight and scream but that wouldn't get her anywhere. And so she just gave up, and Emet had her right where he wanted her, at the tip of his fingers to control.
The first few weeks he didn't do much. He kept her to the bed, limbs leaden and sight gone, entering the room only to pluck her legs off the bed and shove himself into her dry tight cunt or her ass as she'd scream in pain and cry. He'd let his fingers toy with the pert flesh in the center of her breasts, tweaking gently or twisting angrily depending on what he felt like that day. Or he'd flick his finger over her clit, sending bursts of aether through her and causing her to flutter around him as he laughed and pumped into her with more vigour as she screamed.
Sometimes he'd sit beside her, resting his hand over her crotch, her legs splayed beside her, sliding his finger up and down her sex as he spoke about how much he'd always wanted to have her in the palm of his hand, and how happy he was now that he did. And he'd slip a finger into her and gently press up against the spongy wall of flesh at her front before making her cum, whispering in her ear how lovely she was, and how clear it was that she wanted to be here too, all while tears rolled silently down her face.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
One of the first things he did was decorate her to his desires. He knelt beside her paralysed body, needle in hand, and grinned at her as he brought it to her breasts, watching as she panicked and begged and fought against her paralysis. He eased the needle into the sensitive flesh as she screamed, and screamed more as he eased the bejewelled metal into the wound he’d just made.
But nothing compared to the pain between her legs when he repeated the motion, decorating the cunt that belonged to him to his tastes as she screamed and nearly passed out from the pain.
“There,” he said, giving the wounded flesh a little flick and causing her to yelp in pain. “A lovely decorative reminder of who your body belongs to.”
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sliding her head over the side of the bed and stuffing his cock into her throat was excellent. If he gave her her the ability to move her head - and sometimes he didn't -she'd shake furiously, stuttered 'no please'-s slipping from her lips, and shy away from his hands until his palm curled into her scalp and yanked her body into the right position. She'd grit her teeth and he'd sink a fist into her stomach, shoving his cock between her lips when they parted, and then stripping her of the ability to control her mouth. He'd pull back and all at once sheath himself within her, tongue slipping forward inadvertently as he popped into her throat.
The tip of his cock would bulge up between her shoulder blades, and as she heaved and gagged he would slip his fingers into her and pump violently, muffled whines accompanying the wet sounds of her stomach and throat constricting, hugging his length as they tried to push it out. He'd wrap his hand over the bulge in her throat, squeezing and pressing it down into her so that she felt it more keenly while the pressure of his hands choked her, delighting in how the pressure and tightness he introduced around his cock made her cough and splutter.
Sometimes he'd pinch her nose with his other hand, delighting in how she flailed if he permitted it, unable to make a sound other than that of her stomach and throat heaving violently, wetly. Visceral. But it was so much more exciting when he didn't let her flail, when he stripped her of the movement of all her limbs and shoved his cock down her throat with her nose pinched shut. To know that she couldn't fight or even try to pull away as she began to retch on his cock, the only indicator of her struggle the wet sounds muffled by his cock in her throat, the convulsing just below her skin, and her eyes fluttering shut as she ran out of air and began to pass out on his cock.
And with his cock lodged so far in her throat her body would just instinctively swallow over him, and swallow his cum when he twitched, her own body refusing to give her a choice, even as she gagged violently
On occasion, when he wanted to see her dismayed, confused and mortified, he'd make her cum with just his cock in her throat. She'd always look so horrified and confused, and when he mocked her for it, watching the distress build on her face only served to rile him up all over again.
"So thirsty for my cock that you cum with it just in your throat? Without me even touching you? Perhaps I should just keep my cock in you permanently, I imagine you'd like that."
Every now and again, when he just wanted her to suffer, he'd make her gag too. A snap of his fingers and she'd heave with nothing in her throat, until he'd shove his cock into her mouth. A snap of his fingers and her throat would constrict over his length over and over and over, her clenched fists a testament to her suffering, until he came, and he'd snap her fingers-
"Swallow."
-and make her swallow over his length, over and over and over again, throat fluttering over his length as though it were cumming.
But he didn't want to always make her swallow, as enjoyable as it was, eyes swimming with disgust as she guzzled down his essence inadvertently. It was far more enjoyable watching the disgust in her eyes as she forced herself to swallow. And so he taught her to do so on her own, and she learnt to do so pretty quickly. When she first coughed it up and he'd sank her head back into the pool of cum and made her lap it up as he caned her, she swiftly began to swallow even as she retched with each twitch of his cock, struggling to take the significant load even without his cock embedded within her throat. Each swallow hugged his length, and she'd always gag in tandem with each twitch of his cock as it pumped more of his load into her mouth. He always made sure to praise her afterwards for not letting a drop go to waste, for milking him of every last drop.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes fury got the better of him. When he was reminded of just how much time, how much effort she had cost him. How much work she had undone.
He'd chain her to the bed, belly down, and yank her head by her hair up and back.
"I'm sick and tired of heroes like you..."
His palm would squeeze aggressively into the flesh of her rear, nails digging in so hard they caused blood to seep beneath the skin.
"Undoing all of my hard work. All that time, all that effort, for naught, undone by a single bloody 'hero'."
If he had her dressed, he'd tear furiously at the clothes upon her back, tearing them down the middle and then tearing away her small clothes too.
"This is for all the time you've wasted me," he'd growl, shoving a single finger into the hilt up her cunt, and then pulling out.
"Thorn in my bloody side," and he'd shove two in, and she'd start to cry out as he began to pump viciously into her, the weight of the bed shifting as he knelt behind her.
"N..No..."
His fingers would slip away and he'd replace their presence with his cock, one hand on her hip, the other curling into her scalp and smashing her face down into the bed.
"Such a pain, such a nuisance."
And he'd shove into her, hand slipping to her pelvis and pressing over her stomach to feel how each subsequent thrust over and over sheathed more of himself into her. She screamed at the size of the invasion inside her, the tearing sensation causing her to quiver, her walls trembling over him, hugging his cock like a vice, and oh, how he delighted in how her legs spasmed in pain as she screamed. His cock was tearing her apart from the inside out, and after a few brief moments sitting within her he began to pump, each thrust tugging at and tearing at her walls.
"Filthy whore.. you deserve so much worse."
He'd tug her hair up, yanking her head backwards as he brought his lips to her ear, another hand trailing between her rear to shove a finger into the hilt up her ass as she wailed.
"I've always wanted to see you in such pain below me.. In your natural place..."
He'd slip out a finger to replace it with two, beginning to pump into her ass with his fingers as he pounded into her cunt.
"Now I finally have you here... I can finally make you suffer.."
He shoved her head back into the bed sheets, muffling her cries and causing her to push against him as she struggled to breath.
"Think of it as comeuppance for all the suffering you've caused us. The suffering you've caused me."
And with a growl he'd yank himself out and shove his cock into her ass as she screamed.
"I'm going to beat you.. belt you.. whip you... until you're within an inch of your life. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer."
If he were extra spiteful he'd snap a bone as he pounded into her, letting her let out a bloodcurdling scream before snapping his fingers and restoring her as she was moments before.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
He began to plug her up whenever he came in her. The discomfort he thought she must have felt with cum sitting inside of her for hours on end, filling her up, not allowed to spill unless he willed it, oh it never failed to arouse him anew. Knowing that she sat, that she knelt before him, served him with his cum sitting uncomfortably within her, it sent him completely wretched with the desire to add to the growing pool. And she tried so very hard to do as he asked, not to leak a single drop until he told her. She'd clench whenever he fucked her ass to make sure she didn't spill, and she'd sob and cry and scream beautifully, the tautness causing her such pain. He always praised her for her diligence and her effort.
"Don't you like having my cum swimming in you, princess?"
She always whimpered and nodded, afraid of what he'd say if she said otherwise.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
He loved marking her, each scar a sign of his ownership over her. Such pretty skin she had, and it was all his to ruin. To brand, to slice, to whip, to pierce, until she was a mess of scars. And then to wipe clean and start over with a clear slate.
There was only one mark he left upon her, and whenever he felt especially possessive he'd cut it, burn it into her flesh all over again, straight over the old scar, watching her eyes widen in fear as he’d bring hot metal near her skin, watch her feel the heat of it radiating off the red hot metal, the sizzle of air around it. And then he’d press it right onto her skin, delighting in the scream of fat, of flesh, beneath it as she screamed. The glyph of Emet-Selch. She was, after all, his.
She'd lay screaming as he worked upon her back, wielding a knife or a hot iron and pinning her head down into the bed. She'd struggle for breath as she screamed, his cock twitching in her ass with every bloodcurdling wail. Crimson spilled down her back with each fresh cut of the knife. Other times her flesh would scream as fat singed beneath the hot iron he pressed against marred flesh. He'd whisper over and over again how glad he was that she was his, and when he was done his hands would dig into her hips and he'd fuck her violently as she lay crying.
Other times he just cut her, punched her, burnt her, shocked her, stepped on and kicked her, for fun. She was so lovely when she pleaded for mercy, and even lovelier still when she squeezed around his cock in her pain, her face a mess of tears. He'd snap his fingers and shoot levin through her body, causing her to scream and seize up, limbs tensing even when she didn't have control of them.
Sometimes he'd numb her skin, dulling every sensation so that all she could feel was a vague echo of his touch as he sliced at her, whipped or beat or burnt her, and then all at once he'd give her her senses back, and she'd wail as sharp piercing sensations soared through her body
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
On occasion he wanted her dressed. He'd leave her clothes and tell her to dress in them and meet him in his room. She'd swallow, tugging the clothes onto her frame. Sometimes it'd hurt, raw wounds still healing if he'd left them open to heal on their own. Other times she got to feel them as though normalcy had been returned to her life. And then she'd saunter out the hallway towards his room, knock on the door gingerly. He'd open the door, eyes ravenous and sparkling, and let her walk in, where as she stood and shivered he'd walk around her, looking her up and down like meat, and then walk closer, letting his hands roam over her, pressing his body up against her. H’ed grind his length against her rear or take her hand and cup it against his hardness as he growled in her ear.
"Do you see what you do to me?"
She'd whimper as he'd start to toy with the fixing of her clothes, slowly taking them off piece by piece. Sometimes he'd tell her what he wanted to do that day, so that she'd struggle more.
"Today I think I feel like stuffing your ass... filling you up and then..." And he'd pull out a long bullwhip, wrap it around her throat and tighten. "Whipping you."
And she'd try to run or hide, and he'd grab her by her limbs and throw her to the bed, pinning her with his weight and either pinning her by her wrists or by her head before tearing the clothing off her, or securing her to the bed before slowly peeling away each article as she cried and begged him to please be merciful... until he'd strip her of her voice and leave her crying silently, lips speaking silent words.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her .
Other days he wanted her to suffer.
"You like having things in your ass, don't you?"
And she'd wail and cry, shaking her head furiously.
"Now, don't be like that.."
He'd catch her jaw in his hands and tilt her gaze up.
"Are you lying to me..? You know how that goes for you..." His thumb brushed over her lip. "Do you want the belt?"
She'd choke out a sob and shake her head.
"Then perhaps you'd like to try that again?" He'd let go of her chin, stroking a knuckle over her cheek. "You like having things in your ass, right princess?"
Her lower lip trembled and she'd whimper, before nodding reluctantly. He'd push her gently onto the bed and slip a finger into her ass, then two, scissoring and pumping into her rear as her toes curled and she teared up, sobs choking forth from her throat as her fingers curled into the bed sheets. Then he'd plug both her holes and secure them in place with a belt, and then shove a dildo into her throat, taping her lips shut over the end, watching as she teared up and gagged over the bulge in her throat.
He'd secure a collar around her neck, squeezing it tight against the bulge, and then tug on her leash, dragging her to the kitchen.
"Cook for me."
And bow legged she'd start trying to prepare a meal, struggling as she retched and heaved and struggled to breath, tears still pouring down her mess of a face.
If he were feeling especially cruel he'd beat her while she tried. He'd bring the belt down across her rear, or the whip across her back, and she'd jump around squirming, muffled whines and cries coming from her nose.
Sometimes he'd snap his fingers and send bursts of aether to her clit and her nipples, causing her to fall to the floor as she writhed in pleasure. And then he'd make her cum, and she'd seize up on the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over her.
"Are you so distracted by having your holes filled you can't focus on serving your master? You should be grateful you’re even allowed to have your needy holes filled while you do this."
And he'd beat her further as she'd begin to cry and shake her head.
He'd pluck her from the floor by her hair and place a plug on her nose.
"Keep cooking."
And she'd try for a few minutes, before she turned to him and walked to him, bow legged, falling before him and pleading with her eyes and her hands on his knees, unable to make a sound with her nose and mouth plugged, to please, please let her breathe. She'd retch, eyes watering, the only sound being that of her stomach and throat constricting wetly, and he'd take her jaw in his palm, shifting his hand further so it was just at the base of her neck and squeezing.
"Is something the matter?" he'd ask, and she'd merely retch silently, eyes fluttering and beginning to lull. "What's wrong, princess? Speak to me.."
He'd pull the tape from her mouth and pull the dildo free, shoving her onto his cock just as she gasped for breath, causing her to cough and splutter and then begin to flail and push against his grip.
"Serve your master dutifully, then you can breath."
And as her eyes fluttered she'd roll her tongue weakly against him, trying so desperately to make him cum so that she could breathe only to pass out on his cock, only vaguely aware of how he gripped her hair and pumped into her slack mouth and throat until he came, sometimes so deep his cum bypassed her mouth, or in her mouth, watching her body swallowing his load reflexively in her unconsciousness, as she drifted in and out.
Other times he'd just let her pass out, gagging on the dildo, eyes pleading with him until they rolled back and she fell forward into him, body spasming as the last of her air ran out, and only then he’d let her breathe, and she'd wake up with no memory of what had just befallen her, confusion and dismay clear upon her face.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
He'd slip a gag into her mouth so she couldn't close her lips, a dildo on the end of a winch so with a tug he'd slide it into her throat, and ask her to speak to him.
"Speak to me, princess."
And he'd tug, sliding the dildo to the back of her throat so that she retched as he laughed.
"That wasn't an answer."
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes, when he was busier than most days and just wanted to watch her suffer, he'd give her a dildo with a hole down the middle, so that she could gag endlessly while still getting the air she needed. Oh he'd delight in tying it into her throat and just leaving her retching over it, spit and tears bubbling over for hours on end as she'd retch and retch and retch and never pass out.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Some days he'd wake her up in the middle of the night, walking in and slipping before her on the bed as she groaned groggily.
"Spread those legs for me princess," he'd murmur, his hands slipping to her thighs. She'd groan and obey, allowing him to shift forward and sit between her legs, sliding the tip of a finger up the apex of her legs and pulling a gasp from her.
"Good girl," he'd whisper, placing his hand on her cheek. "Now, you can go back to sleep."
And he'd wash aether over her, allowing unconsciousness to take her once more so he could fuck her in her sleep, delighting in how calm and at peace she was like this, even when his fingers rolled against her clit and upon her nipples. Even when he slid his cock into her and came within her, naught more than soft pleasured gasps eased from her lips. This was her truest, her purest form. And she'd awaken the next day with no memory of the prior night, salt on her tongue, a dull ache within her and dried cum on the bed between her legs her only reminder of what came before. And then she'd sob again, awake to experience the nightmare in her waking hours yet again.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes he enjoyed making her serve him of her own will. He'd plug her up, and sit her before him, taking her jaw in his hands.
"Suck."
And trembling she'd shift forward, taking him in her hand and mouth and weakly working herself over him, fear in her every motion. Until he gave up and grabbed her head, holding her fast upon his cock and working her head over himself.
"A pitiful display."
He'd lay on the bed, pulling his cock out.
"Sit."
And groaning she'd sink down upon his cock, wincing as it twitched in her cunt and his thumb rolled against her clit and nipples. She'd began to rock her hips, to bob slowly, and he'd smirk.
"Wrong hole."
And she'd get up and reposition, tears welling up as she winced, forcing herself down upon his cock while his fingers still flicked at her clit and breasts, sometimes tugging at the pert flesh and squeezing angrily, causing her walls to flutter around him and for him to grab her shoulders and pull, sheathing the remainder of his length within her as she screamed.
She'd groan and start to bounce, and he'd tell her to go faster, harder, threatening to beat her if she couldn't make him cum. And when she inadvertently was unable to meet his demands he'd grab her shoulders, pin her down and fuck her violently, twisting furiously at her nipples as she screamed in pain.
"I love hurting you, princess," he'd murmur, and twist again, pulling a scream from her lips, causing her walls to clench around him and tear yet more screams from her mouth.
Other times he wanted her to humiliate herself.
"Rub yourself on the corner of the bed."
Whimpering she'd stand and shift, parting her legs over the frame and beginning to rub her clit against it.
Sometimes he'd pull out a chair and sit a plug upon it.
"Sit on it, ride it."
And she'd start to shift onto it, wincing as she took it within her cunt. He'd wait until she was fully upon it, starting to rock her hips and bob.
"With your ass."
Choking back a sob she'd pull herself off it and shift it to her rear, crying out in pain as she forced herself onto the intrusion and began to bob upon it slowly, groaning as it stretched her insides, only for his hands to clasp around her shoulders and force her to bob upon it with much more ferocity, tearing pained cries from her lips.
Every time she always worried it'd be her ass, but he'd always click his tongue if she started with it first.
"Did I say with your ass? Start with your cunt."
And so no matter what she was forced to suffer both ways.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes he let her escape just for his own entertainment. He'd leave her limbs full of motion, the door open, careful to make it look like an accident. It was delightful watching her stumble without her vision, marked so wonderfully by him that anyone would know who she belonged to, though she never got far enough for that. He'd always let his hands sink to her shoulders, whisper in her ear that she was so silly, thinking he'd make such a foolish mistake, thinking he didn't do it just to see her struggle, and whisk her back, delighting in the silent tears that trailed down her face with her hope stolen from her.
And how he adored the tears that spilled down her face when he told her how beautiful the swell of her tummy was becoming, the screams when he took her from behind with no warning and mocked her for thinking she could find freedom.
"Don't you think your child would want to know their father?"
She'd choke out a sob.
"What kind of mother would you be to keep him from me? And what kind of a father would I be if I didn't take care of the two of you?"
And he'd shove her face into the bed, raising her hips as he continued to pound into her, stealing her voice from her so that she cried in silence as he came.
She was his, and she would be his for a long time.
And sometimes he'd take her outside by choice, stripped of her sight and stuffed full of toys, secured in place by a belt, he’d abandon her in the centre of the road, watching her stumble to and fro, trying to find her way. Calling out for him so dearly, so fearfully, oh how it made his heart sing to see her so desperate for him, for his guide and aid, even when he was the one who hurt her.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Eventually he just made her cum from his presence. Whenever he entered her cell audibly he'd snap his fingers and have her trembling. How awful for her, he imagined, to cum whenever your captor entered the room. How wonderful for him.
"Such a filthy creature, so aroused by my mere presence that you cum whenever you think I'm nearby. I see your holes waxing and waning as they imagine my presence within them."
She'd always wail and shake her head, to deny it. He wondered if he'd ever tell her the truth, but where was the fun in that?
He'd always sink his fingers or his cock into her, remarking on how wet she was, and she’d always sob and wail as his eyes glinted with amusement.
"You are sopping, how terribly you must need me."
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Mocking her for her lack of control was especially entertaining.
Some days he stripped her of her voice and gave her back her sight. He would gaze into her pained eyes as he fucked her and she sobbed silently, limbs limp by her side. He'd ask her if she wanted to be free. He'd tell her to use her voice.
"Do you desire freedom, princess?"
She'd nod if he let her, but if he controlled her he'd shake her head. Other times she sat silent, unable to move, unable to speak, not permitted to do so.
"Use your voice, dear. Or nod."
And she was so worn down she'd just start crying.
"That's right, you can't," he'd leer. "I guess you must want to stay with me for a long time, stay as my little slave, my little flesh light, taking my cock and my delicious cum in your holes over and over and over."
And then he'd grip her by her hips and pound into her as her mouth opened in silent screams and wails.
"Isn't that right, princess? You love being my little fuck doll."
Sometimes he'd take the time untying her.
"You're free to go, you better run before I change my mind."
She always broke down when he said that, her limbs like lead at their sides, and he'd leer at her and laugh.
"What, you don't want to run? You like being an Ascian's toy? An Ascian's cock sleeve?"
He'd take her head in his hands and stuff his cock into her mouth.
"How wonderful to know that you love being my little cum receptacle just as much as I do."
Or he'd let her answer, palm meeting with her cheek until she gave him the answer he desired, a sobbing mess. It didn't take long until she answered how he wanted every time.
"Who controls what goes into your holes?"
"Y-you do, master..."
"Do you like being my little fuck puppet?"
And sobbing she'd answer.
"Y-yes, m-master."
"Oh, I think I shall take more convincing than that.. Tell me you like being my little fuck puppet."
He'd catch her neck in his palm, fingers sliding into her mouth and hooking at the back of her throat, and he'd squeeze and squeeze as she choked out the same garbled words over and over as she gagged and choked- "I- li-ke being Emet-Selch's- hurk- little fuck puppet, I like being Emet-Selch's little fuck puppet," -until her eyes fluttered and her head fell forward, heavy like led as darkness spotted in her vision, and only then he'd let go, letting her consciousness slowly fade back into existence
Sometimes he even went so far as to control her, snapping his fingers and causing her to stand, to start walking out the door at his offer of freedom until she broke into tears before turning around and spreading herself for him at his whim, spearing herself on his cock as she screamed in pain, or grinding herself on his fingers, on his knee as she cried in humiliation, or opening her lips and hungrily taking him into her mouth, shoving herself all the way down his cock and heaving as she did so, unable to stop.
The sheer humiliation, the pain, the hopelessness on her face when he did that, when he had her masquerade as a willing victim, was exquisite.
"Such a hungry and willing little slave, you must love being my little Ascian puppet," he'd say, and he wondered if her tears would ever run dry as she'd sob and choke.
"Don't you love me? Don't you want to stay? I'm such a merciful and loving master, am I not?"
And he'd strip her voice from her, force her to nod.
"Why don't you show me how much you want your master?"
And he'd make her walk over to him and grind against him, tracing his hardness through his robes with her lips or straddling him and grinding her crotch against his bulge, thighs spread, chest or face pressed against his until he grabbed her and shoved into her.
Sometimes he took it all from her but her touch. All her senses, all her movement, when all he desired was to know that she suffered silently, in darkness and in pain as he stuffed his cock into her limp body over and over and over, unable to do anything but take. When all he wanted to know was how she screamed silently in her lifeless body as he fucked her as though she really was a fuckdoll.
Sometimes when he took all her ability away from her he'd go too far. He'd stuff his cock into her throat and pinch her nose shut, ramming violently into her throat until he came, and when he pulled away and restored her sight to her her vision was glazed over, heart no longer beating. It was delectable, to know in the throes of his passion she'd died for his pleasure, asphyxiated on his cock. And then he'd bring her back, a little bit of the light in her eyes gone. He could practically see her brain rotting with each period of unconsciousness, of death. Turning into a husk of what she once was, naught more than a fearful puppet.
He enjoyed it so much sometimes he'd merely choke her as he pounded into her ass and cunt, watching her eyes defocus as her screams turned to gurgles, to silence, and then pounding into her body, no longer tense or struggling, limp without his magic forcing it upon her, until he unloaded, and then he'd bring her back, dotting gentle kisses upon her neck as his cock softened in her and tears streamed down her face. She never knew what happened, those times, only aware that sections of her life had started to turn to darkness and nonexistence.
Sometimes when he took it all from her, even then he'd sometimes move her like a puppet, getting her to sit up and take him in his mouth, to suck him off willingly, all her control gone from her, able only to feel her limbs moving to a will not her own. Unable to even cry, her own movements literally paralysed, she would suffer silently and alone in her head, all while he pulled her strings how he liked.
He'd take her face, make her smile and tell him how much she liked being his little fuckpuppet. Sometimes he'd make sure she could hear herself saying those things, other times she'd have to guess at what he made her say
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Some days he'd shove his cock into her, face flat beneath him as she screamed. And he'd tell her to fuck herself, splayed below him with his cock in her ass he'd make her buck her hips as though she were desperate for it, even as she screamed and cried in pain and begged him to please cum, she'd rut wildly and with such fervor as though she needed it so desperately.
And from below her, he'd slide his hand beneath her hips and then plunge two fingers into her cunt and pump and rub as she fucked herself, causing her to cry out even more, until he stole her control from her and instead merely pounded into her with both cock and fingers as she screamed.
A simple touch on her skin and he'd send levin coursing through her muscles, causing her to twitch and spasm.
"Stay upright pet."
He'd rescind control, and pound into her as she twitched and spasmed and struggled to stay upright, all while she screamed.
"My little puppet."
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes he’d stop it all. He’d give her back her control and tie her to a chair, and he’d spend his time by her side, watching, whispering. She had all of her control returned to her, except that of her sleep.
“There’s no rest for you here..”
And when she’d start to fade out he’d hover over her again, beaming at her with wide excited eyes as he brought the syringe to her neck. Oh how she’d flail and scream and beg.
“Please please please PLEASE no MORE!”
And he’d ignore her and slide the needle into her skin, sending her heart racing as adrenaline burst through her body. And she’d scream and she’d cry and wail, begging him for mercy, begging him to let her rest please please just this once and she’d do as he asked...
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Some days he even took her outside. She did not know where she was, just that she was tugged along by a leash, a slave to his desires. Sometimes he'd take her to a place where hands, cocks, objects , roamed over her and fucked her over and over as she cried, unable to do anything more than take that which was given to her silently. She did not know where, she did not know who, only that this happened, and that sometimes he'd pull her strings there too.
If he were feeling particularly excellent he'd bind her thighs to her calves and wrap her upper body in cloth so she couldn't move, her head covered completely except for her mouth, forced open with a gag. And then he'd take her and leave her there, barely able to move, letting cock after cock use her body while she sobbed, unable to do anything but let it happen.
Other times he'd give her visions of being chained to a collar and brought to the Crystarium, unable to see, to hear, unaware of the horror on the Scions faces as Emet waltzed in with the Warrior of Light a pitiful helpless creature on a leash, scarred and marked as his own, moving to his whim and taking him within her, unable to scream or cry. She didn't know that they looked at her so. She didn't know if he did all that he gave her in her visions, just knew she hoped he didn't. But he'd always tell her things that let her know they happened.
"Even your precious Scions know you love being my little whore, isn't that wonderful? Now no one will bother us."
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes she was an experiment. He'd tell her he was taking her somewhere more comfortable and take her back to his chambers, though she could not see.
"There are a few things I want to try, princess..."
Some days he'd stuff her mouth full of rags and bind her hands to her back, legs tied to a pole between her ankles to keep them spread apart. She'd feel his hand slip between her legs, thumb resting atop her clit and fingers just sitting within her entrance, pressed up against her wall. And then, sitting like that for hours, he'd send wave after wave of levin and pleasure thundering through her body, book propped up in his hands as she howled silently, sometimes writhing and sometimes completely still, for hours, sometimes days, on end.
Sometimes he'd just prop her in front of him, toying and tugging and twisting with her nipples as she lay before him, tearing wail after pained wail from her lips.
If he were feeling kind, he'd just tease her gently, fingers brushing and gently flicking over her breasts and clit, playing with her like this for hours and hours on end as she lay like a doll before him, squirming and writhing and crying when he made her cum, sometimes through just her breasts alone.
Other days, when he wanted the excuse to make her suffer, he'd press her against a wall, plugging both her holes and then pressing another wall against her front, another plug stuffed down her throat. Pinned from both ends she'd remain there, numerous objects, usually books and papers, or his elbows, propped upon her back until he saw fit.
"Tables do not quiver, princess, be still."
And as she retched and heaved, gathering just a semblance of control, he'd snap her fingers or bring his finger to her clit, rubbing, and send a bolt of levin through her, causing her body to convulse all over again as she came. His fingers would flick, tug, and pull at her nipples suddenly, causing her to scream and then gag and shake. And then for fun he'd punish her, because of course, tables do not suddenly drop everything upon their back. Sometimes it was the rod, sometimes the belt, or the whip. Sometimes he just kicked and punched her in her stomach, yanking on her nipples and all she could do was gurgle and choke and sob, unable to move anywhere.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
As time went on and her breasts swelled, despite the lack of true pregnancy, he took the opportunity to humiliate her further. He'd sit her down in front of him and grasp her breasts in hand and milk her, finger slipping to her clit and pinching it every now and then.
"Hmm, I can't let my little cow go undernourished can I? And I can't let your milk go to waste." He'd slip pumps onto her breasts and another onto her clit, sticking a funnel into her mouth and pouring cum into it as she moaned and squirmed at the suction on her nipples and clit, swallowing tonnes of cum as he funelled it into her throat.
Other times he'd rest her with her head lain back and start to pour cum around it, watching as she's screw her eyes shut as it began to creep up her face, and then retch as she swallowed, desperate to do so she wouldn't drown beneath the rising levels of semen
"Drink deep, my little cow, I will not have you starved. I want your breasts to swell even more.”
"Your udders produce so much milk.. I suppose without a child here to suck you dry I will have to instead. "
And he'd tug away the pump to wrap his mouth on her clit or on a breast, suckling furiously until she came even as she shook her head furiously.
"A shame your clit doesn't produce milk either."
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes if he were feeling cruel he'd bring a bucket of water and a rag, splashing her with dots of water and watching as she flinched and trembled before placing the rag upon her face and spilling water upon it, waiting till her pants began to still before plucking it off, watching as she gasped hungrily for breath.
Other times he'd tie her face down so her head sat above a bucket of water, half of her upper body hanging over the edge so she had to hold it up herself. He'd sit and wait until her muscles gave way, only to submerge her face into the water for a few moments, coming up for air gasping as her muscles trembled in exertion and then let her fall back down despite her best efforts.
"Is that too hard, would you like some help?"
He'd wrap a rope around her neck and tie it, forcing her to arch her back even more so that she could breath, muscles giving away and letting her head fall against the rope, gross choking sounds splitting from her lips before she finally managed to pull herself up again, trembling.
Sometimes he'd force her to stay on all fours as he used her like a chair, sending bolts of Levin through her when inevitably her muscles trembled so much she would fall beneath him, causing her to scream and try really hard to get back up, only to fall again immediately after.
"Do not drop these."
He'd place a tray in her hand, and it'd tumble immediately, limbs too weak, too tired from exertion to even remain held up without the added weight.
And he'd undo the band on his waist.
"Knees."
She'd start crying, pleading
"No please..."
But he'd ignore her cries, pushing on her head with the side of his foot so she tumbled to the floor and holding her firm with it, beginning to beat her even as her muscles trembled as she tried and failed to move, to flee.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
He'd shove her head underwater, nose plugged with a funnel in her mouth her only way to breath, and he'd pour gallons of cum down it, watching as it slowly emptied from the funnel as she swallowed and swallowed, desperate to breath, and then groan in discomfort at the end.
"Did you not like your meal, princess?"
He'd pluck her out of the water, stomach bloated with the sheer amount of cum in it, and dazed she’d gaze at him, trying so very hard not to puke as nausea roiled through her.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes he'd shove into her ass and pull her close.
"Now princess I'm going to make your body fuck me."
And he'd snap his fingers and cause her muscles to clench and relax around him, practically pulling his cock deeper into her as distress filled her gaze at the disconcerting sensation, her walls hugging over him as though she were cumming, tugging him to completion and then practically swallowing over his cum.
Other times he'd do it in her cunt, and inadvertently she'd cum, trembling upon him as she teared up and shook her head.
But he loved doing it with her throat the most, the dismay in her eyes when her throat clenched and fluttered over his length even as she did nothing, bringing him to completion, and practically tugging his cum from him as he lost himself and began to thrust into her fluttering throat was exquisite. There was something to be said about making it constrict when his cock wasn't there either, closing it off so that she couldn't breath, or paralysing the muscles in her chest so that she couldn't breath in or out, watching as she turned blue faced and possibly clawed at her chest and flailed if he allowed it, stroking himself and shoving his cock into her mouth, revelling in how even then she gagged, furiously, loudly, unable to make any other noise, either letting her breathe just before darkness took her or letting her pass out, leaving her that way as he fucked her throat and came before he let her wake up, dazed, confused, and brain damaged.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes he'd spread her legs and paralyse her, letting his head sink between her legs and savouring her distressed expression as he'd begin to lick, running his tongue up her length and against her clit before diving into her, letting his nose and lip rub against her clit before snapping his fingers and making her cum.
"My, is this all for me?"
He'd rub his fingers over her slick, being some to his lips, and then rub more before shoving them into her mouth, rubbing it against her tongue or against her face even as she squirmed and tried to avoid his hand.
And then he'd shove into her cunt all at once, loosened and slick and offering little resistance, there was something delightful about this too, even though despite the distress, the discomfort and disgust on her face, eyes squeezed shut and lips pressed into a thin line, she did not scream in pain.
"So wet and ready for me... You must really like being my little pet."
And he'd make her cum over and over again, thumb on her clit until she was pleading to stop, the apex of her thighs aching, oversensitive, and all her muscles trembling in exertion.
And he'd just pump into her, unloading over and over until cum leaked around the edges of his cock, and then he'd plug her up so she wouldn't spill, leaning over her and brushing his lips against her cheek and ear as she flinched away from him.
"You will bear my seed princess. Your belly will swell beautifully."
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
Sometimes he'd drug her, letting her fall asleep before letting his lips slip to her sex, delighting in the unadultered, pure soft gasps of pleasure that tumbled from her lips as he licked her and curled a finger within her, bringing her to completion all while she was asleep.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
It wasn't until far later that he really let loose. At first he possessed her. How she squirmed and thrashed when he told her what she was going to do, how she screamed and begged him not to. Taking it from her was so very sweet.
Even as he entered her her body squirmed and thrashed, her mind screamed angrily. But it did not last for long. His coolness pooled within her and pushed her to the back of her mind.
And then she was his.
His little puppet.
He stood up, and ran her hands along her body.
"I could alter you however I see fit.." he'd murmur, waving a hand and bringing a mirror up in front of her so she could see her breasts growing and shrinking in tandem with the swell and tingle within them, altering them to his desire. The prickle of her skin as he eased scars away from her marred frame and left her perfectly smooth, save for the scar upon her back marking her as his.
"And I can do however I see fit.."
And she'd watch as as he slid objects into her and secured them in her holes. And she'd watch, unable to do anything as he forced litres and litres of cum between her lips and swallowed, and then slid plugs into her mouth, keeping them there until she heaved over them. As he injected unknown fluids into her veins over and over, dressed in her clothes, and then sat down at the wall, mirror still in front of her, securing her legs so that they were spread to her left and right, and finally tying her hands too. "All ready for me," he'd murmur, and her limbs would fall numb and heavy as the drugs kicked in and she'd fall unconscious, only to wake up to a repeat of her first day with him, only this time he'd take the time to undress her, and shove his cock into her dry cunt.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
He'd leave her on the bed bound, and stick needles into her as she begged and pleaded him not to, her limbs falling limp through paralysing agents, head spinning as drugs kicked in and she tried and failed to struggle away from the constant pinpricks.
"My little experiment," he'd murmur, pressing his lips to her forehead as he pricked her wrist and slid more of it into her. She could practically feel it sluggishly seeping into her veins, into her brain.
She never knew what it was. Sometimes it left her paralysed and still, but she knew not if that was his magic or the drugs. Some days she swore her heart stopped beating and her lungs stopped working until he injected more into her.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
One of the worst things he'd do to her was skull fuck her. He'd lean beside her, giving her her hearing but stripping her of her sight.
"I'm going to pluck an eye from you temporarily," he'd murmur, and with a snap she'd feel a strange absence, and then a strange and uncomfortable pressure as his cock pressed into her empty eye socket, and he'd begin to pound, growling as bone hugged his cock as he literally fucked her skull. She was always left shivering when this was done, not sure how to respond to such bizarre and unpleasant sensations.
And with a snap he'd give her her eye back, leaving her as though nothing had ever happened.
Or, if he were feeling particularly heartless, he'd just shove his cock in, ignoring her screams as he fucked her eye socket, cock pressing up against the back of her skull, rubbing against flesh and nerves that weren’t meant to be rubbed, and dumped his load within her, cock pulsing against the bone.
And again, he'd pull out, and snap his fingers, leaving her as she once was, though significantly more distressed.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
The true horrors didn’t start until much later. First it started with being woken in the morning with him by the side of the bed, pissing onto her as he grinned, or sometimes scowled. This was what she deserved, after all. After all the bloody trouble she’d caused him. But she’d take it none the less, it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter.
Then it followed with the times he’d fuck her, pissing into her ass or her throat as she screamed and tried to free herself from this awful, humiliating situation…
The next indicator of things to come were his occassional choice of restraints… She’d wake up and find long tendrils snaking from her mouth to her rear, her stomach and throat and intestines filled with the limb, one end attached to a heavy weight and the other attached to the wall. She could move, feel the thing sliding within her as she roamed around her cell, but that was the extent of it all, and given the sensation she always tried not to move, tried to stay still and do nothing on days when she woke like that. Sometimes if he was feeling extra evil he’d have her cunt plugged up too and something stuck to her clit and nipples, but thankfully those sensations was far more familiar, though the constant stimulation provided when she walked meant she stayed still as much as she could nonetheless.
It wasn't until far later that he really let loose and let her see echoes of his true form. At first he'd sit beside her, hand hovering over her crotch, tendrils just snaking over and within her just slightly. Unable to see, she did not know what happened. She felt them, long slender things sliding into her far more than his finger would be capable of doing, teasing at her walls, at her clit.
But she learnt soon enough, and while she detested it, he loved it. The first time he used them on her, he let her see. Black wispy tendrils billowed out from behind him. He smiled at her, brought a hand to her cheek, half the tendrils following his motion to hover just beside her.
"Does this not excite you princess?"
He leant over her, hands roaming over her limp spread body.
"I can violate you in even the most intimate way now.."
Wet, sticky, the cool tendrils would trace all over her as he decided how he'd toy with her that day. They'd squeeze at her breasts and toy with her nipples and cli, pulling them and tugging them this way and that.
And even with all that he had done to her thus far she was never prepared for this.
Sometimes a tentacle would slip to her sex, flicking over her clit and then diving into her urethra, thrusting violently as she screamed, filling her bladder and then diving out so that she'd piss cum. And then as it leaked out of her, he'd thrust the tendril back in to stop the flow, chiding her and clicking his tongue.
"Now now, don't make such a mess.. Aren't you capable of controlling yourself? Do you need me to do it for you? Give you some assistance?"
Sometimes he'd dig needle thin tentacles into her nipples, pumping her breasts full of cum and causing them to swell in size, and then squeezing them, causing his cum to burst forth.
Other times, if he felt like scaring her, they'd spread into dozens of tiny little tendrils, and he'd pick a spot upon her body and let them dive just under the skin, creeping visibly through her body, just under the surface, as though they were prominent veins. The terror on her face at the sensation of snakes creeping under her skin was always beautiful. He'd let them trail beneath her breasts and beneath her nipple, causing an unpleasant tickle within them. He'd let them trail up her neck to her face, and she'd always begin to tremor in fear, crying silently as dozens of tiny tendrils flicked beneath the features of her face, audibly hissing. He'd bring them to her hand, placing a mirror within her palm and ordering her body to bring it up to her face, forcing her eyes to remain open and stare into the reflective surface so that she could see as well as feel the tiny tendrils snaking over her face. She'd almost always void her stomach then, the horror of the situation too much for her fragile mind to bear.
When he wanted to unnerve her but didn’t want to go so far, he'd leave her dressed, sliding the tendrils under the clothes so they brushed all over her, right up against her skin, wetting the clothes. They'd slide along her arms, along her legs, just beneath her small clothes and up her chest, against her neck, back and forth, sticking and sliding against every ilm of her until he finally penetrated her, or tore the clothes off.
When he didn't feel like terrorising her and instead wanted to fuck her, he'd slip a tendril to her ear, let it brush against the shell and feather over the entrance, pebbling her skin down one side, before diving in, trailing out a nostril and back up the other to ease out of her other ear. Sometime's he'd dive right into her eye sockets, tentacles opening over her eyes, swallowing over them and sliding behind them to fuck her skull, to slide around inside her in ways that shouldn't have been possible as she trembled in fear, sometimes vomiting or losing control of her bladder. Or he'd do the same as other times, snapping his fingers and ridding her of her eyes, or sometimes not, and shoving the tendril straight into her skull, bursting through the fleshy orb, letting it squirm within her skull, exploring, sliding against nerves that shouldn't be touched, sticky wet sounds echoing, bouncing in her head as she wailed in distress at the strange and unpleasant sensations, and yet more still when he unloaded within her. It'd slip around the back of her skull, down her throat or out her nose and back into her mouth, She could feel the tendril pulsing through her eye socket, her nostril and within her, fluid filling in places that were definitely not meant to have fluid, and then withdrawing, wet and sticky, leaving its slimy residue within her. And he'd snap his fingers, making it as though nothing had happened.
Sometimes to change it up he'd slip one into a nostril, sliding down and out of her mouth, back up her nose and back out her mouth again, or doing it the other way, sliding a cool, wet tendril into her mouth and up the back of her throat and out of her nose. It was especially fun looping, slipping out of a nostril and back into the other, and then out of her mouth.
She'd always scream and shake her head when a tendril shifted to her face, afraid of having it dive within her. She hated it the most, so it only made sense for him to enjoy it the most.
Sometimes he'd slip two tendrils into her nostrils and tug backwards to hold her head back, another holding her mouth open so he could slip a tendril into her throat. But his favourite was by far letting a tendril into her mouth, easing up and out her nostril, back in, and then bulging and shifting down into her throat, slowly snaking into her. If he wanted to change it up he'd go in through a nostril, out her mouth, back up a nostril and down into her throat, or just stuff two tendrils up her nose and dive straight in so he could clearly hear every gag and watch drool and slickness spill out her mouth. Other days he’d split the tendril into three and go straight into every hole, letting them join or remain as separate tendrils as they dove down her throat. He'd always let the tendril swell within her mouth and throat so it parted her lips completely, only shrinking it just enough to squirm through her other holes. As the tendril continued moving, slickness built outside the nostril it slipped into, dripping over her lip and either into her mouth or onto the tentacle that continued to push into her. He'd always wrap a tendril around her eyes and tug her head backwards, or he'd slip the tentacle into her nose and then into her throat from behind her head so it pulled her back. If he were feeling especially cruel he'd slip the tendril into her eye, down and out of her throat, in her nostril and out her other eye, and then back into her other nostril before diving down her throat. And his favourite... to completely block all her senses of the outside world, to fill her completely, he'd stuff her ears too. Perhaps he'd trail in an ear, out a nostril, in her mouth and out and eye, in an ear and out her mouth, into her nostril and finally down her throat. He'd pull her head back, every orifice completely stuffed and stifling her ability to breathe or make a noise, save for that of her body groaning, convulsing, heaving wetly, though he kept her alive with magic even as her lungs screamed in pain. He'd watch as a bulge built beneath her jaw, sometimes several of them squirming all over each other when more than one tendril moved within, and then creeped along her neck, lower and lower, gradually moving along her sternum until it was in her stomach, where it began to coil, and coil.. Where it continued to coil until her stomach began to bulge with noticeable curves within it.
Other days, when she'd actually press her lips together to try and avoid him, he'd simply wrap a tendril around her throat, choking her until her lips opened gasping for breath and he'd finally dive in. Or he'd give up on waiting and shove into her nose or some other hole.
"What good do you think that will do you?"
She'd continue to splutter and gag, unable to make a sound as the tendril filled her slowly but surely, and unable to help himself he'd wrap a tendril around her throat and squeeze, constricting herself around his tendril and causing her to splutter as he growled at the tightness he inflicted, beginning to slide the constricted tentacle over her throat as though he were masturbating through her throat.
If he desired he'd let the coil in her stomach shift, beginning to slide into her intestine as more still slid into her mouth, unending. And her body would visibly shudder as the bulge on her stomach grew more defined as his tentacle slid into her intestine, tracing through each coil and bend until it slipped out her rear and moved forward to rub over her clit and dive into her wetness, where he finally began to pump, the entire length shifting within her as he brought himself to the edge.
Other days he'd choose to go the opposite way. It was especially fun when she'd press her lips into a line, as if it would help her here. Tendrils would toy with her breast and her clit, one diving into her wetness as another pressed up against her rear and dove into her as she sobbed and pleaded, shaking her head... if he allowed it.
The subtle outline of his tendril would begin to bulge and possibly squirm in her stomach as he creeped within her intestine, and he'd always poke and prod at them from the outside as she groaned in discomfort, limbs twitching and toes curling in exertion. But his favourite part was always the end, when a bulge would press up at the base of her sternum, and stay there for a moment until she dry heaved. Then it would begin to trail slowly up between her breasts, and she'd continue to gag and heave audibly, head rocking forward as her body prepared her to vomit. He'd slip two tendrils into her nostrils and tug her head back, stroking himself and watching the bulge creep extremely slowly, to maximise the suffering, up her neck as she continued to heave, whispering little praises about how good she was for him, how good she felt constricting over him in every way until it forced its way forth from her mouth, or sometimes her nostrils, spit and slickness spilling forth from her mouth, tongue sticking out amid loud gurgles and gags. Sometimes all three holes if he decided to split the tendril. Sometimes it'd snake out of her mouth, into a nostril and back out. Sometimes it'd dive out of her nose, her mouth, and into her eyes or her ears, whichever he desired. Sometimes it'd skip past her nose and slide straight out of her ears or eyes, tearing a blood curdling scream from her.
And she'd continue to heave as he pumped in her, a tendril again moving to squeeze over her throat, causing her to cough and splutter as he tightened the tendril over her throat, pressing it into her more keenly and then rubbed what length he could over her throat, masturbating through her throat.
But sometimes he wanted to fill her. He'd start the same, slipping a tendril into each of her holes, but he wouldn't continue until they slipped out the other end. Instead he'd pump himself into her, sometimes still jacking himself off through her throat, her limbs twitching, overwhelmed. And then he'd cum, watching as each bulge of fluid, sometimes several through multiple tentacles, travelled along the bulge in her intestine and her throat to her stomach where they filled her and she swelled. If he desired he'd pull out slightly, letting the bulges of his tendrils slip away, instead allowing the cum to create a travelling bulge along her throat and intestines as he pumped it into her. Other days he'd slip to her throat, letting the tendrils bulge till she couldn't let them out and pumping into her mouth, cheeks bulging as she screamed and was forced to swallow the copious load as more came and she struggled to keep up. He'd always make her cum then, and tell her she was such a hungry slut for cumming as he pumped her full of his cum.
And then he'd plug her, filled with his essence, letting her sit like that groaning for hours until he deemed it enough.
Some days, he'd go completely through her and shove into her cunt after, sending bulge after bulge of cum all the way through her system, watching it bulge along the trail of his tendril, watching her heave and gag as it went up or down her throat, and groan as it went up or down her intestine, within her until her belly swelled with seed, though less than usual.
If he was feeling especially cruel he'd lay eggs. It'd start the same, but then his tendrils would begin to shift large bulges along them, and he'd watch as they trailed along her intestine and down her throat, round and large, sliding up into her stomach. She'd make glorious noises when he did this, heaving and gagging, limbs twitching as her belly swelled with firm matter. And just to be sure he'd lay them in her womb too, shoving a tendril into her cunt and watching as bulges ran in a line up to her womb, adding to the mottled texture of her stomach.
Other times he'd just slip entirely into her, and let eggs travel through her entire frame before he deposited them in her womb, and her womb only that day.
And yet again he'd plug her, sealing her closed with belt and plug, leaving her like that groaning. But they had to come out, and he'd laugh as he unplugged her and watched her struggle for hours as she heaved eggs up and out of her throat, out of her ass and cunt, bulges shifting along her throat, intestines and belly the same as when he'd inserted them. Making her cum as she did so was certainly entertaining. The frequency at which they spilled increased, causing her to heave and gag even more as they spilled from her. Sometimes she'd even lose control of her bladder as she gave birth.
Sometimes he'd get her to stand, telling her to catch them as they fell out of her. Watching her stumble bow legged after eggs that slipped from her hands as more came from her still was especially entertaining, even more so if he'd make her cum.
Some days he’d just lay into her endlessly, into her ass or down her mouth until it was too much, and the bulges would trail up her throat or down her intestines to pop out the other side through sheer force.
And if he wanted to terrify her again, sometimes he'd slip a tendril entirely into her, and then let it detach, leaving it to wriggle within her long after he had cum, taking her to her cell as a tendril wriggled, embedded within her. It was most certainly entertaining, sending a bolt of levin through the dismembered limb, causing it to twitch and squirm within her as she groaned.
But most entertaining was letting the tip of a tendril fall off. Letting detached tiny tendrils wriggle over her chest and to her cunt and ass, crawling into her. Squirming into her nostril or between her lips and down her throat. Or into her ear, or her eye. He'd let them squirm within her, exploring her intestines and her throat and all areas of her that he desired, all as she squirmed uncomfortable at the sensation of him crawling within her, unable to do anything. If he was feeling especially cruel, he'd give her control just as the tiny tendrils slipped to her orifice, letting her try to grasp at the slimy tendrils just as they escaped, leaving a slick trail on her hands.
Of course, as with all he did to her, he chose to make her cum sometimes.
"This excites you does it? Being so full of me? Being so full of my eggs? Having little bits of my tendrils exploring the most intimate parts of your body?"
And sometimes he'd leave her completely paralysed as he used her limp body like a cumbucket. Leaving eggs in her on days like that was especially entertaining. She could not heave or push, and so the bulges would shift out of her painfully slowly, moving up and out of her at a snail's place, a likely unbearable sensation
Other days he’d let the entirety of a tendril detach, trail it through her ass to her mouth and then leave it there, tugging on it, bringing it back down into her stomach to floss her insides while giving her a chance to breathe, before letting go and letting it trail back out of her mouth, and possibly her nose or other holes too. He’d let it squirm in her, sometimes dipping out lower to plunge into her cunt or trailing further from her mouth to plunge into her other holes, depending on what he felt like letting the disembodied tendril do that day.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
And despite all he’d done thus far, it wasn’t until later still that he showed her his true form.
These were the worst days for her, when he was monstrous. He always liked her to see him those days. He'd give her her sight, her arms bound above her and her knees to her shoulders, pinned upright for him to see. And then he'd change into this huge monstrous form that terrified her.
"Does this form scare you, princess?"
He would stroke her cheek with a monstrous claw, and then slide it's tip along her sternum and press the knuckle up against her sex and rub. Then he'd come forth, smaller grey hands gripping at her abdomen, at her breasts, large fingers rolling, tugging, twisting at the flesh as she struggled, or didn't, as he chose. He'd let the grey fingers roam to her sex, each of them as thick as 3 of his normal sized fingers, and then he'd roll around the outside. Beady glowing sets of eyes watched hers as he pressed into her sex, watching them squeeze shut, and then widen, head shaking if he let her, a futile attempt at deterring his actions, as he slipped the first finger out and then pressed the tip of two against her entrance. It was going to stretch, and hurt. It always did.
If he let her, she'd cry out with two fingers, and he'd slip two on his other hand to her lips, stuffing them into her mouth and to the back of her throat. And he'd always slip out to shove a third into her cunt, her screams coming out garbled over his fingers as he began to pump then within her, leering as his thumb rubbed furiously against her clit, not much of a distraction against the pain.
And as she screamed the fingers in her mouth would slip out... and to her rear, and with no warning he'd stuff them into her, one then two, cock growing harder as she wailed and screamed in pain, limbs twitching.
He'd push a third finger into her ass, a fourth into her cunt, watching as drool spilled from her mouth in her pain.
"Cum."
And as she wailed she'd twitch and flutter over the intrusions, despite how impossible it seemed, wetness soaking over the fingers in her cunt. And then finally he'd pull them free, the monstrous claw grabbing at her belly, plucking her from her bound position and bringing her just above his cock, impossibly huge and thick, yet grey and throbbing furiously in his arousal.
It was always impossibly large, but Emet had his ways.
She could always feel the strange sensation within her when he snapped his fingers, like something shifted within her. Depending on what he felt like, she felt it in her abdomen or her throat, organs and bones shifting to make way for him, to lessen the damage he caused. To keep her alive. And then with little warning he'd shove into her.
When he was feeling merciful he'd choose her cunt, the least unpleasant of the lot, slickened and slightly relaxed from cumming earlier. It always took a lot of work to shove into her. He'd let his claw slip between her legs and spread her folds, letting the very tip of his cock press up between them, and then grabbing her tiny frame he'd thrust, spearing himself within her as an ear piercing wail left her lips, organs rearranging, moving left and right to allow his length into her, a bulge growing in her stomach in a line from her entrance as he thrust further and further, each successive thrust letting more of him into her until he was fully sheathed.
And the tip of his claw pressing against the middle of the linear bulge, he'd work her over himself, drool and froth spilling from her lips and limbs flailing wildly as he did. When he came in her this way her belly would swell as if in the early stages of pregnancy, and then leak out slowly, mixed with blood, when he softened and slipped out from her, organs popping back into place. If he were feeling especially cruel he'd step onto her belly and force his essence to gush from her faster, or he'd snap his fingers and make her cum, his essence spewing forth from her in bursts as her walls fluttered, and he'd mock her.
"You like being so stuffed with my cum, do you? I shall have to do it more often then."
And she'd shake her head and groan, no energy left to protest.
Her ass often went about the same, only with far more pain. He'd flip her over and spread her with both his claws, pressing his tip against her rear and grabbing her before thrusting gradually, pver and over, organs shifting out of the way to accompany his length until he was fully sheathed within her, his presence announced by the huge linear bulge within her stomach.
Her screaming often fell silent when he chose her ass, as she passed out over and over and gained consciousness again in a world of pain, sometimes throwing up or pissing herself from the sheer overwhelming pain of it all.
Cuming in her ass was a great deal of fun. With a grunt he'd stuff himself completely within her, thick strands of cum filling into her belly and causing her to swell, and swell, and she'd gurgle and groan and heave as his cum fought it's way up her throat and spewed forth, a nasty mixture of monstrous essence and blood spilling from her lips. Sometimes he'd let his claw wrap around her belly and squeeze, forcing it from her throat and even her nose at an even greater speed, throat bulging under the force of the flood until it ran out and she coughed and sputtered for breath.
But he especially loved using her throat. He'd pluck her head backwards by her hair, slipping the edge of a claw between her lips and prying them open before slipping his length into her mouth and then shoving roughly, sheathing himself all at once, her jaw dislocating to accommodate his length. He'd twitch and growl as a bulge grew from below her jaw, and down her neck, all the way to the base of her sternum as an inhuman retching sound came from her throat. Before he'd move he'd rub one of his smaller hands along the length of the stretched skin, rubbing himself through the bulge, and then moving a claw and pressing down on the bulge, pressing it down into her chest and neck and moving back up until he got to her neck where he would wrap his claw and squeeze, eliciting a cacophony of coughs and splutters from her.
And then he'd move, settling her form on the floor and leaning himself over her, beginning to thrust wildly into her throat as she coughed and spluttered. His claw would shift to her clit or her breasts, the sharp edge pressing against them and sending a bolt of levin through her or twisting and pinching, sending bolts of pain through, causing her to choke or cum if he desired, drool oozing from her nostrils and around his length. It wasn't unusual for her to lose control of her bladder here either, legs twitching if he allowed her. Grey fingers would shift to her cunt and stuff into her, and she'd flail wildly as she continued to choke and gag, throat fluttering and tightening over him as she did.
"My what a filthy whore I've chosen for myself! She enjoys having her entire esophagus filled with cock."
And cumming in this hole was exquisite too. As he came her belly swelled yet again, and she'd groan in pain as her belly filled and distended, and under the sheer pressure cum began to leak from her ass. He'd stuff his fingers into her ass and cause garbled screams to form from her lips as cum spilled forth from her rear, uncontrollable in its sheer amount. Sometimes he'd tell her to hold it, and oh she'd try, clenching her cum filled ass, only for his fingers to stuff into her and pull a gut wrenching scream from her throat at the sheer amount of pain, cum spurting past his fingers. Sometimes his claw would wrap over her swell and squeeze, forcing his cum from both ends, thick fluid seeping over his cock and flowing from her ass.
If he were feeling cruel, he’d plug her mouth and nose, or her ass, so that when he came in her she’d just swell and swell and swell, none of his essence able to leave her at all until he’d pull out or pull the plugs from her, letting a tidal wave of cum seep from her mouth and nose or from her ass.
Sometimes for fun he'd even pull out so he was a little shallower, delighting in how each twitch of his cock sent a new, visible bulge of his essence easing, trailing down her throat into her belly with no where else to go. He could never help himself, snapping his fingers and bringing an orgasm crashing down upon her as gallons filtered down her throat into her belly.
"You like that do you, princess? You like being a cum bucket? You like having your throat and belly pumped full of my seed? Shall I feed you with my cock in this monstrous form every day?"
And she was always too far gone to move, save for her jaw popping by itself back into place, or make a noise, even if he let her.
On occasion he'd leave her limp, paralised, and do this, but half the fun was having her scream and struggle and suffer, though stuffing a lifeless doll full of his cum and squeezing it out of her was also incredibly enjoyable too.
Sometimes he'd shove into her, deciding for the day not to care for her wellbeing, tearing all her organs, breaking through her pelvis and fucking her, impaling her any which way on his cock, as she screamed and began to pass out, blood pooling copiously from where he impaled her... Sometimes he’d impale her all the way to her other end, his cockhead spearing through her throat and coming out her mouth, or her ass or pussy if he decided to come in the other way, so cum and blood leaked from her holes while all her organs were destroyed and eviscerated further and further with each pump. And then he'd pull out and snap his fingers, bringing her organs and bones back to their complete form, not torn, not impaled, and not bleeding copiously, so that she’d live another day.
She always ached awfully after his monstrous form touched her, and it was rare for her to be unwounded. Emet would strip her of her sight and take her back to her chambers, where he'd leave her groaning in pain for several hours before slowly letting it ebb away as he healed her wounds.
"There we go, isn't that better? I can't break my property, after all, a broken toy is no fun to use... and you're so much nicer with unbroken holes, they hurt so much more!"
The pain would ebb away, and she'd feel her organs and body shift back to how they were before anything had happened, prepared to once more experience pain the same way if he desired it.
But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.
One would have thought that was the end of it, truly, the limit to his sadism and use of her. But even then he was not finished. On especially cruel days, he'd murmur about her limbs.
"Such long spindly things, they always get in the way..."
He'd brush his lips along her collarbone as she lay paralysed in fear on the bed.
"I think it's time to remove them."
And she’d scream and cry and plead him not to as he'd tie ropes around where her limbs met her body, and then snap his fingers, letting them detach from her body leaving only an ache in their wake. Even with dulled pain she'd let out a bloodcurdling wail and begin to cry, and he'd waste no time stuffing his cock into her cunt, fingers digging into her hips.
"You're truly my little flesh light now, aren't you princess? No limbs in the way, just a set of holes."
And he'd strip her of her voice, delighting in how she cried as he stuffed his cock into her holes.
Letting tendrils slide through her, through her nose and ears as she continued to cry, and then plugged her up, blinding and deafening her, leaving her a simple stump on the bed to be used at his whim.
Even when he'd eventually return her limbs to her body with a snap of his fingers, she'd remain crying.
And even when he'd done all he could to her, he never grew tired of her.
He was the puppet master and she was his puppet. and he loved how she cried. Sometimes silently when he stripped her of her voice, other times silently because her fight had been beaten out of her. Sometimes not quietly at all.
He even gave her her own collar, and a leash to tug her with, two cold hard metal prongs sticking against each side of her windpipe, two cold hard metal prongs to dig in against her throat when he stuffed something into it, a constant reminder of who she belonged to, and how with a snap he could cause her to scream and cry in pain.
She was his toy, and she never ceased to bring him amusement. He took and he gave at his whim, and with all that he could do with her he would never grow tired of her. He'd hurt, he'd break, and then he'd heal, sitting beside her and soothing the aches he caused, letting her sob into him as though he weren't the one who caused her all that pain. And if his caress led her to believe he cared, that he held affection, care, for her, then let her believe it, it'd only hurt more when he came back to hurt her again.
Whenever he graced her with her ability to hear, he always reminded her; "I'm going to have you for a long time." And eventually when he grew sick of her suffering he leant forward and pressed his lips below her ears.
"And just to be sure you will never leave..."
With a wave of his hand he sent her still, guiding the thin metal rod to her eyes and slowly behind it, cock throbbing as he thought of the fear and panic that welled within her, unable to move. And he'd slice, blood pooling around her eyes and puffing into a marvelous bruise. And when she awoke she was gone, naught left of her but an obedient little doll.
It was so endearing how with each slice, each hit, each brand and each shock, she'd scream and wail and curl into him, seeking comfort and solace in his arms even when he was the source of the pain. How she'd gaze up at him longingly when he'd take the pain away, a false sense of security forming in her mind, only to be broken the next day when he'd hurt her anew. He no longer had need to take her voice from her, for her speech was gone, only making little sounds of hurt or crying quietly when he'd shove his cock into her over and over, hands clinging to him as she whimpered and he'd unload into her.
He no longer had to keep her blinded and paralysed. She'd sit or lay upon the bed, waiting for him every day until he'd come and stroke a finger up her sex.
"Will you be good for me?"
And she'd whimper and nod, afraid of the pain, afraid of displeasing him, leaning into him and crying softly as he'd slip a finger into her and think about how he'd like to use her today.
"Yow know I love you, right?"
More nods, more silent sobs. She didn't dare believe for a minute he loved her. She knew he adored her, obsessed over her, sometimes she was misled to believe he cared for her. But she never believed he loved her. And even so she clung to him for dear life, clinging to every word he said, easing into every touch, stroke, caress and embrace. Even as he doled out the hurt, he was all she had to cling to, all she could seek comfort from. Him and his warm comforting embrace.
She was his doll.
His puppet.
Afraid to move, afraid to struggle, she'd remain a good little doll for him.
And sometimes she'd recover, and the horror, the fear, that'd return to her face as she'd realise, and try to hide her realisation in fear of a repeat, only served to make him harder. For him to shove his cock into her as he pulled out the thin metal pick, and paralysed her, cock twitching as he imagined the helplessness that filled within her again, at having been discovered, at having to go through it all over again if he willed it, though sometimes he chose to leave her recovered for several months before doing it again.
And sometimes, he'd kill her, hands squeezing around her neck so tight that she'd spasm around his cock as she die. And then he'd bring her back, smiling at her as fearful eyes gazed up at him, confused and terrified.
...
She was his doll.
His puppet.
And what he could do with her was endless.