The traitor screeched in agony and wrestled futilely at his restraints as the Impaler thrust the behemoth inside the man’s ass. Only the fat head could be accommodated at first, but as the Impaler rocked his hips, more of the thick cock slid inside. When he finally had his whole cock inside, the traitor sounded more animal than man. The Impaler fucked him senseless, pile driving the tender meat while he grunted and slobbered over the man’s back. With his free hands, he grasped the asses of the men on either side of his current victim, tearing at the pallid orbs in an excruciating promise of what was soon to come. The other men could not see the sodomites due to their restraints, but they heard them well enough. The Impaler used a huge foot to push the first man off his cock when his noises finally ceased. He stretched his back and roared at the soaring queen before continuing his relentless journey around the circle of death.
“Let them know the Moonmother's wrath! Impale them on that freakish prick!” screamed Minerva as she fingered her cunt and asshole. When she was enraptured, she always preferred to service both orifices at once. Her hands were both sunk in almost as far as her wrists, her fingers wriggling inside as she flew over the men being raped at her command. Look at what you have become. No wonder he left you. The thoughts surfaced unbidden, and she responded to the unwelcome words by savagely biting the inside of her cheek and sucking at the raw wound. These are the depths he has forced you to trawl. When he returns, you can rediscover rapture together and rebuild your crumbling kingdom.
Minerva buckled in mid-air when she reached her climax, and a glass ceiling in the great hall shattered with a resounding boom. Rain and glass showered her as she removed her fingers from her spent holes, trails of her translucent blood falling on the Impaler’s skull as he finished the final man. She lingered in mid-air for a moment, her majestic form framed by blinding lightning. She was a chilling portrait of the power of unbounded desire, and she slowly descended with her bare feet settling in a puddle of blood.
The Impaler stood still, his cock hard and red in the falling rain. A few of her guardsmen exchanged nervous looks, edging away from their Moonmother. Minerva turned away from the mess and was about to order it cleaned when a terrified guard ran into the room. He hardly glanced at the carnage, and Minerva knew at once that something was dreadfully wrong. “Dark Lady, come quickly! Neora has returned, and she is laying the theatres of pain to waste!”
Minerva unleashed a primal roar and flew for the treacherous changeling.
Chapter Thirteen: Neora Faces the Queen
Minerva heard the screams from the theatres of pain before she reached the entrance. Air rushed over her nipples and tickled the damp patch between her thighs as she flew through the pre-dawn gloom of the Imperial Palace. The tapestries of desire that adorned the moonglass walls fluttered as she whooshed past them, their depictions of Fay orgies and ritual purification an indistinct blur in the corner of Minerva’s vision. Blood dried on her feet and cum stained her fingers as she imagined walking around in the changeling’s flayed skin.
As the cries became clearer, she fantasized about the million ways she would redefine suffering when she had Neora in her hands. You can give her to the Impaler and watch her flail on the end of his monster cock. You can let your horses fuck her devious ass until she can no longer walk. You can slice off her eyelids and force her to watch a pair of starved snowcats feasting on her lower body. That is always exciting to watch! These images of the changeling’s destruction were even more satisfying than her memories of Andrax’s rigid cock and adroit fingers. Bloodlust burned hotter than her love ever had, the desire for annihilation speeding her flight to the dying heart of her palace.
Minerva’s rage at Neora boiled beneath her skin and morphed the planes of her face into an unrecognizable mask of hatred. You commanded her to capture Andrax, and the cunt has repaid you with sedition. She had always been wary of the changeling, but the reason for her betrayal vexed Minerva. Why come back and enter into a war that Neora knew could not be won? What did she hope to achieve with this vulgar attack on the theatre, the very place she had exulted in her most terrible glories as Chief Inquisitor? When Minerva finally saw the decimated throng of her people, she knew exactly what Neora had brought for her fracturing Moonmother. Damnation.
Her subjects were streaming out in wild-eyed confusion, some carrying devotees who were either too injured or too dead to walk. Masochists with severed limbs and empty eye sockets ran into each other in bewilderment, white bone glinting in the pulpy mess of their stumps. Male and female dungeon sluts wrestled with the restraints of skin straightjackets while their hair burned and their flesh cooked. The Bone Priestess wandered through the crowd aimlessly, her entire body encased in the bleached bones she wore as ornaments. They were pierced beneath the surface of her skin in an elaborate rendering of the Moonheart. She did not seem to be aware of the blade jutting from her left breast like a shifting plate of the earth breaking through soft ground. Your children are dying.
Some of her wealthier disciples from the eastern cities had been in the audience, their jewels winking as they drank in the glow of the Dark Lady. Many had been with her since the beginning and had helped her breathe life into her dream with gold and moonglass. They occupied spacious chambers in the Hall of the Aristocrats, their rooms outfitted with the finest whores and instruments of torture their coin could buy. When they saw their naked queen soaring toward them in the full splendor of her power, they began to cheer, but their exultations died in their throats when they saw the fury burning in her eyes.
They do not deserve to drink from your womb. Minerva spread her arms and unleashed a horrific scream as skinblades shot from the palms of her hands. She raised her arms in wrath and addressed her followers one last time. “Useless fucking wretches! You may have peeked beyond the veil of the flesh, but you remain as weak as the day I found you. I sacrificed eternity to raise these walls, and you repay me with cowardice! I brought you into this new world, so it is only fitting that I take you from it!” The massacre of the free flesh began as she decapitated the Bone Priestess with the sweeping edge of her left skinblade.
She slashed her arms in dizzying arcs while she sailed through the doomed press of her followers. Limbs flew and arteries were severed as she tore the mob to bloody ribbons. A few of the surviving masochists appeared to be relishing Minerva’s balletic slaughter. They huddled in a small group and masturbated each other with a recklessness befitting certain death. One of them had procured the Bone Priestess’s head and was pissing in the dead woman’s mouth, one hand grasping her filthy hair while the other moved frenetically across the engorged clit of a brunette alongside him. She was close to coming; her eyeballs fixed on the death-wielding Moonmother as she gyrated against his fingers and slapped herself viciously in the face. Their enslavement to self-abuse was absolute, and their imminent death did nothing to diminish their crazed need for completion. You hate them because you made them in your own image, thought Minerva as she interrupted them with the point of her skinblade.
She noticed a doggedly faithful guardsman fucking himself with the hilt of his dagger as he watched Minerva’s rage. Others were ripping off their armor and fucking each other’s asses in full view of the queen they were supposed to protect. The Moonheart is consuming even the most temperate of your men. Soon rapture will be all that is left, a vile white tide seething from the Imperial Palace and polluting the Lonely Sea. In a wordless rage, she stretched her hands before her and dived at the man before he could blink. She passed through his thick torso in a single smooth incision and emerged covered in his gore. His jerking legs remained absurdly rooted to the ground as she exploded through his skin and landed on her blood-drenched feet. The Dark Lady stepped over the bodies of the fallen and entered the theatre of pain.
The carnage was even more devastating inside. Neora had always been a marvelous killer, but today she had reached a new level of cruelty and artistry. Minerva had first taken the changeling under her wing on the recommen
dation of some of the patrons now choking on their own blood in the theatre’s blistering heat. It was said she possessed the skill and emotional austerity of a master inquisitor, and she would achieve great things in her studies of the desiring body. Now Minerva saw the fulfillment of the bitch’s potential on a grand scale, and for half a heartbeat, she felt a glimmer of admiration for Neora’s perverse handiwork.
The room was stacked with eviscerated corpses, and the unmistakable stench of seared flesh wafted from the viewing pits. They had been packed with the connoisseurs of pain today, and some were still moving in the red glow of candlelight spilling from an immense iron chandelier. Neora had gone through them with blade and fire, reducing the audience to blackened husks and pools of viscera. Astonishingly, some of these damned souls were still nibbling on cocks and filling their orifices with whatever implement was at hand as their lives leaked from their grievous wounds. The paroxysms of orgasm and the contortions of pain could not be differentiated on their faces, and in their terrifying union, Neora had come closer to the nightmarish heart of desire than Minerva had ever seen.
The heat in the room was stifling, and sweat coated Minerva’s legs as she walked toward the deafening yells of terror emerging from a nearby stage. Neora stood naked at the bottom, her blue-black hair stained red from her rampage. She was still scything her way through the devotees with a black skinblade, and shadows played across the bloodstained swells of her tits and ass. Neora looked up at Minerva as she finished a masochist with a flick of her wrist, his head spinning on the floor as her blue eyes glared up at the queen. “Come to join me? It seems fitting it should end here. How many times did we fuck on this stage, Dark Lady?”
“Neora, child of night. You must be deranged if you think you can defeat me.” Minerva descended slowly toward the assassin, her feet gliding over entrails and disembodied limbs. “All the trust I placed in you, the years I spent grooming and teaching you. Did it mean nothing?” Minerva raised her own skinblade and circled the changeling on the stage. “Before I end you, tell me what became of Andrax. Did he abandon Shadehaven to rapture?”
Neora smiled cryptically and licked the blood from her lips. “I had a daughter once. Grace was her name. Your thugs abducted her from Estlemoore when she was still a child. I came here in search of her, but it proved an empty quest. She was dead and I had failed her. For many years, I hid the truth from myself and buried my grief here.” Neora reached down between her legs and touched her wet outer lips. “I gave myself over to the pleasure of the flesh and forgot the wounds of my soul. But those days are over, Dark Lady. I have one question to ask you. Do you remember Grace? You look upon her as we speak.”
“Many anonymous cocks and slits have passed through this palace over the years. How can you expect me to remember one pretty slut I pulled from the sewers?” Minerva tensed her body and prepared for Neora’s charge.
“Well, this slut was special to you even if you didn’t realize it at the time. If you hadn’t taken Grace from Estlemoore, you would never have met me. You would have reigned as Queen of Desire until the seas rose and drank the world. But you took Grace, and planted the seed of your own death. So spare a thought for grace the slut!” Neora attacked with speed, but Minerva was faster.
Minerva cut off Neora’s left arm with a mighty down cut of her skinblade. Neora threw back her head and wailed before grabbing a nearby bucket and throwing its contents into Minerva’s face. Cum and blood blinded Minerva as she staggered backwards. The changeling shifted into her dog skin and jumped at Minerva, her teeth snapping at the lifeblood of her throat. Minerva craned her neck away from the savage bites and impaled the bitch through the shoulder. Neora dangled off the skinblade as Minerva held her in the air and prepared to finish her with a thrust from the other blade.
“You are a fool, Neora. I am the Moonmother reborn. How did you think you could defeat me by yourself?”
Neora smiled as the Dark Lady twisted the blade. “Do you think I was stupid enough to come here on my own?” Minerva looked into the changeling’s eyes and saw the truth of her brutal charade. She has drawn all the guards and left the Moonheart’s defense weakened… Her scream collapsed the theatre’s roof and tore a chasm into the side of the Imperial Palace. Rain and debris poured into the room as Minerva took a final look at Neora’s remarkable face. Such a stunning beauty…
She threw Neora into the Lonely Sea and went in search of the man she had once loved.
Chapter Fourteen: Andrax Returns to Minerva
Andrax maneuvered down the mountainside, the weight of the Negress’s longsword and his exhaustion slowing his descent. The tempest was raging along the craggy heights and the across the grey roil of the Lonely Sea beneath him. Dawn teased the Eastern skyline, but seemed reluctant to creep into the world. Perhaps the sun itself is vacillating, waiting to see if darkness engulfs the world forever.
Andrax’s fingers were numb from the icy stone outcrops he was holding as he neared the base of the mountain. Neora told him to avoid the main road coiled around the mountain like a lover’s arm and advance vertically down the cliff face. The brief snatches of screaming men carried to him by the swirling winds vindicated Neora’s caution. He had heard enraptured guardsmen tearing into each other’s flesh and bone-chilling cries pitched somewhere between terror and ecstasy, but the rising winds were beginning to drown out everything except the steady pulse in his freezing head. You are close now. In an alcove just above the churning waters. That is where the changeling said you would find the Garden of the Moon.
He was a good climber. Together, he and Minerva had scaled the most remote peaks of the Ice Mountains together. They would push their bodies through the boundaries of agony and submit themselves to the vagaries of nature by day, and fuck beneath the stars by night. But climbing down over blind ridges was a tricky proposition at the best of times. He also had to contend with avalanches caroming off the ice above him and the insistent spray of the Lonely Sea whipping at his body from below. You are almost there Andrax. Just a little further and you will wake from this endless dream.
The theatre of pain had been a terrible sight. Shadehaven had been unbridled chaos when he left, and the transfigured Fay had been a grim portent of what to expect in Minerva’s new world. But he could not imagine the pure joy and clarity he had seen etched on the faces of the penitent masochists. The physical transformations of the Fay may have been grotesque, but they were nothing compared to the internal deformities that crippled these human hearts.
A masochist stood on an elevated stage while a sinewy man worked his skin with a tattoo blade. This was not one of the Fay instruments used by the eastern tattooists, but a crude chisel of jagged stone. The muscular man dipped the chisel’s point in burning pitch and worked it beneath the skin, the masochist giggling hysterically as blood flowed down his pale white stomach. Minerva has created a kingdom of horrors, and you were there at the beginning. You tasted of the Moonheart together, you filling your palms with the moonblood and massaging it into her flawless skin. Andrax’s mind wandered through the memories of a love obscured by the passage of time and the birth of divinity.
You held her once, before this dream of rapture. You took her as a lover and poured yourself into the fresh contours of another skin. Human lovers had offered respite and excitement before, but none like her. You fingered her asshole while she stared back at you over her shoulder, your other hand yanking her white hair and twisting it into sticky knots. You let her rim you and fuck you with strap-on cocks that made you come so hard you forgot the shame. She let you piss on her tits in a winter field, the hot liquid steaming on her exposed skin. You watched as she prepared her cunt for you with lubricant and clamps, her smile delirious as she eyed your hardening cock. She watched as you prepared the bondage wheel for her entrapment, her eyes widening as you secured each restraint with a solid snap. You watched each other fuck others and get fucked by others in the infinite combinations of Fay coupling offered by the moonblood’s secret k
nowledge. You watched her grow mortal. She watched you leave.
Andrax’s feet found a curving stone overhang, and he hurriedly completed his descent. The tunnel was where Neora said it would be, and he found himself optimistically hoping the changeling survived her dangerous mission. The Negress believed Minerva would be suitably enraged to fall for the indigo distraction, allowing Andrax to steal into the Garden of the Moon and end her reign with a single blow of the Fay longsword. Judging by the apocalyptic tone of the sky, he had very little time left, so he took a deep breath and walked through the mouth of the tunnel.
He picked his way through a labyrinthine stone passageway with obscene hieroglyphs either carved into the walls or smeared across them in dark blood. After a while he came upon an enraptured guardsman whose spinal cord had thrust from his back with his skull still attached to its end. His head was between his thighs, sucking on his own cock. While this was very unfortunate news for the guardsman, he was sufficiently preoccupied with his curious brand of masturbation that he didn’t even notice Andrax edging past him and slipping into the Garden of the Moon.
Gazing at the seed of forever, Andrax drew his sword and approached the snowbound tree. It was the same brilliant white bark and blue leaf Andrax remembered, but it had grown much larger than he had ever seen it. Its branches filled the entire interior of the cave, and moonblood was pouring out of the trunk in volcanic gushes. He crept around the surface of the unstable lake, his reflection stealing guilty glances at him from the pond’s bubbling surface. You must not feel guilty. Just because you loved her once does not excuse the litany of terrors her life has become. Make an end to it and free her from the tyranny of herself. He raised his sword parallel to the ground and prepared to thrust the blade into the Moonheart when a familiar voice stayed his trembling hand. “Drop the blade, Prodigal One. Or my friend here will get to know you a little more intimately.”
Wildlings Enraptured: The Novella: (Fantasy Dark Erotica, Paranormal Sex Stories, Fairy Sex) Page 8
