Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I can’t watch myself in the reflection anymore. I’m too lost in the ecstasy, in the depravity. I lavish the vine at my mouth with kisses, arch my back in the bonds that no longer hurt me.
“Yes,” I hiss against the stalk that caresses my face. “Oh, yes, fuck me!”
And though it already is, it replies to my request with fervor. It stretches my arms and legs as wide as it can and pumps itself into me, the cocks moving in time with each other, the vines holding me steady for its punishing thrusts.
“Oh, harder,” I moan, taking the vine at my mouth deeper, like I pleasured Luthian before. I break free and beg, “Don’t stop!”
I’m drunk on the unrelenting orgasms, intoxicated by the obscenity I’m committing. I want this beast to hurt me, to tear me to bits, to burst me apart with every inhuman thrust. I scream and struggle against it, kiss it and urge it along, hump my hips against the force of its invasion. I never want it to stop.
I don’t know how long it goes on. Perhaps days, as Luthian said. I know he’s spoken to me, but I haven’t been able to answer him. I don’t want to answer him. Even if he threatened to break our deal, I would not stop. I crave the vines. Tears stream from my eyes like the never-ending gush of wetness between my legs, like the senseless, babbling pleas from my mouth.
Then, it all...stops. The pleasure fades away, but I don’t mourn its loss. I’m replete, satiated beyond my wildest imaginings. The cocks soften and pull free, their sticky emissions splattering onto the base of the creature below me. I did not see it before, but the vines converge at a center point, a giant, rust-colored eye with a slit pupil.
It’s been watching me the entire time. I look up to the ceiling. The glass overhead is clear now, showing a starry sky.
It has been hours.
The vines begin to lower me, but they do not release. The phalluses, disembodied once more, plop softly, almost comically onto the floor.
“My pet is pleased with you,” Luthian says as one of the vines nuzzles against his face. The ones holding me tip me up, as if I’m standing with my arms and legs ridiculously spread in an anatomical illustration.
“I am pleased with it, Guardian.” My voice is a razor-lined rasp. I need water and sleep and perhaps to never come again.
“Good,” is the sum of Luthian’s response. But the creature doesn’t release me.
I look down at the eye. It blinks and rolls back, revealing what appears to be a kind of...mouth.
“Oh, is my precious hungry?” Luthian asks the vine that lies against his chest as if spent.
My heart hammers with reawaked fear. I know that Luthian won’t feed me to the monster, but now its strange jaws terrify me. Circular row upon circular row of tall fangs begin to rotate and rise in tiers. The smallest approaches my swollen, weeping center, those thorny teeth whirring. It touches my thigh and I brace for the tearing of my skin. But these thorns are soft, more like leaves, tickling as they buzz closer to my cunt.
“Do you know what a creature like this eats?” Luthian asks.
I can’t take anymore, I think, in a true panic. My muscles ache from straining. My cunt and ass are raw. I cannot, cannot climax again.
“They thrive on the essence of your orgasms.” He strokes the vine languidly. “Unfortunately, he didn’t get to taste any of yours. He must be starving.”
“Guardian!” I begin to plead, but it’s no use. I cry out in despair as the soft, wriggling worm of its mouth enters me.
Luthian gives me a cruel smile and says, “All right, my lovely pet. Feed.”
* * * *
"Where do you go?"
It's a struggle to open my eyes. I'm so warm and content and relaxed in my bath. The fire crackles in the hearth and Luthian's fingers are delicious on my scalp as he washes my hair. "Hmm?"
His fingers still, and a smile crosses my mouth. "'Hmm,' Guardian?"
His chuckle flows like melted wax through my veins. How can I want more from him when I should be satisfied for days?
"You push through your fear, escape your pain somehow. All of my students do, but it's something some must be taught. You allow yourself to enter that place without instruction. I want to know..." He dips his fingers into the water and trails droplets up my arm before returning to my head. "Where do you go?"
I’ve been here, in this bathtub, in his arms, for what seems like hours, but my skin hasn't chilled, the water hasn't cooled, and he's taken his time and care washing every part of me with soap whose lather never seems to pollute the tub. It's the most relaxed I've ever been in my life, and he wishes me to think?