by L M Adams
And I can feel the chill in my own words.
I relax with a drink near Dem as preparations are made. I hadn’t truly thought Jack would bring me the reporter – the fact that he always knows what to do to make me happy reinforces my belief that he will serve me well in this life.
“What are you about, Vee-Vee?” Dem asks and takes a sip of his bloodwine.
We’re sitting at the bar, turned to face the room as I watch Carter and Jack prepare the little shit who thought to question me… embarrass me.
I glance at Dem, “Teaching a lesson not soon to be forgotten.”
“He doesn’t seem willing,” he waves his glass to the still unconscious man now hanging by his arms in the center of the room, “what about your rules?”
“They do not apply to my enemies.”
“And he is?”
“Oh yes,” I smile and take another sip from my glass of blood wine.
There is nothing special about the man hanging from the chains in the center of the room, he is no Adonis, his cock is unimpressive. Brown hair, clean shaven, average height, average build… just average. There’s nothing at all there to attract me to him except the potential of cracking open his soul and that… that delights me very much.
“Gag him and give him a shot of adrenaline.” I order as I turn back to the bar to get a refill on my glass of wine.
They finish preparing him for me, and I stand just as the adrenaline takes hold, shocking him back awake.
He jerks in the chains as he looks around wide eyed. He screams behind the gag and I smile with happiness, I’m going to enjoy that sound a lot tonight.
Instead of going right for him I decide to flog Carter… and let our ‘guest’ watch.
I don’t have the berserker chained, instead I want to see if he really means it, if he’ll really and truly submit like he claims he will. So instead I have him select the flogger he wished, the one with bone and metal tied to the lashes and lean on the bar… no restraints… only his own will to keep him there.
He braces himself, spreading his hands apart on the dark wood surface of the bar.
“Beg for it,” I whisper as I take off my shoes and get into a good stance. The whip is heavy in my hang and makes a horrid sound of haunted wind chimes as the bone and metal clank together.
I hate that it feels good in my hand, I hate that the Sheba in me, the pure succubus in me will enjoy it… but I only hate it for a moment, and then I remember I’ll enjoy it more than I’ll hate the guilt.
“Please, Dea, hurt me, tear this flesh from bone and make me clean again. I submit to you in all things, all things – I only wish to prove this to you.”
“You shall,” I whisper, and I bring up the whip and down across his back with all of my might.
His scream echoes in the room as his blood flies… but he never moves. Not after ten lashes, not after twenty… not even still at fifty and his back has little skin left, just bloody raw meat and I’m sure if I hit him again, I’ll see his spine.
He hangs on the bar now, his hands gripping the other side of the surface, keeping himself up after his legs gave out.
“Please, Dea, please,” he cries, and I know no amount of physical pain will match how much he’s hurting inside – because he lives without my grace. “I cannot do this anymore, if you shall not love me then at least give me a clean death – I beg for it, I beg to die by your hand and for your glory, Dea, I cannot go on living in such dishonor.”
There’s nothing more important to the berserkers – nothing they need more than the approval of the ones they serve and nothing more devastating than losing that approval.
11
Jaevia
I drop the whip and turn to look at a stunned Jack and a pleased Dem.
“Go and see if there’s some raw meat for him,” I whisper.
Jack is the one that rushes to go… Dem enjoying the show a bit too much as he sips on his bloodwine.
I walk towards the beaten and bloodied Carter slowly, “Have you ever seen a berserker in their true form?” I look over my shoulder to Dem.
“I have to confess my queen, I have not.”
I turn as I reach Carter, running my hand up his back slowly. My fingertips glide smoothly over his flesh, lubricated by his blood. My fingertips dip and rise over his torn flesh and exposed sinew. He whimpers for me low as he leans on the bar unbound by anything other than his will to be obedient to me.
“They are something both ghastly and beautiful. Something from a horrid dream that smells of death and roses,” I whisper gently and Carter moans with passion and pain.
“I hate them with as much power as I love them.”
“Please Dea, please give me your forgiveness or end me,” his heartbreak is sweet.
“I have another task for you, Carter,” I whisper as I help him to his knees before me.
He groans low with his pain with every movement… but he moves, he doesn’t dare deny me anything. Even the evil parts of me sees him and knows that he’s loyal and trustworthy. My forgiveness is there, at the tip of my tongue… ready to be given. But first I want him to do something horrid for me, I want him to not only suffer for me… but make others suffer for me.
I kneel down with his bloody broken form, “You will do everything you’re told? No matter what?”
He looks at me, blue eyes filled with tears as he nods, “Please… I will do anything.” He falls into me and down into my lap, resting his head on my thighs, “please, Dea.”
Goddess. Dea means goddess… to him I am all powerful – even trapped in mortal flesh – I am his living goddess, in truth.
“Shh,” I rub his head gently as I stare at his destroyed back, it must hurt so very badly, yet he never moved or complained, or even begged me to stop – he just needs me to forgive him, no matter the cost – not even if it costs his life.
Jack comes back with a bowl of fresh meat. “It’s cold, is it okay if it’s cold?”
“Is it?” I ask my broken berserker and he nods.
They feed from something called Dredge Magic… it’s the stuff left over after everything else has fed. They do not feed on the Chi of living things like most beings, not even with the commune of a god. They get their power from the things of before. The dead things, forgotten things, filthy magic. They eat what’s left over after the rest of us have had our way with it. The eating of flesh is symbolic more than anything. Consuming the flesh of the dead opens them to the power of the dead and dying. They are known as the Holy Filth for a reason.
Jack sets the bowl down next to me and I select a cut piece of meat… it’s beef, not human, and feed it to Carter gently as he cries.
“He really is gorgeous,” I murmur as I watch him tear into the meat, the cold, dead blood gushes from his mouth as he chews.
His back begins to heal, yet it’s easy to see he needs more. He doesn’t dare ask, but he whines in the back of his throat like a dog.
I stand up, dislodging him from my lap and take the bowl… “Come on,” I pat my thigh and lead him over to Mr. Stewart who is hanging in the center of the room and just watched me whip the flesh from a man’s back.
His eyes are wide as he looks around for something… a friend, escape? I’m not sure what – but I’m sure none of the things he wants in this moment are here.
I reach in the bowl and throw another bit of meat to the floor, “Eat.” I whisper and Carter hurries over to it, almost falling on the bit of beef like a man crazed.
Mr. Stewart looks on in horror… which was the point. I lead Carter to kneel behind our soon to be prey and let him finish the meat and heal in peace. I take a knee beside him as I watch his body grow new skin to cover the repaired muscles and tendons. It really is something to watch, smooth like running water flowing over a tabletop.
“Now I want you to change for me,” I pet Carter gently.
He nods, “Yes, my Queen.”
“Good boy,” I smile and walk around to the front of my victim.
> “You have a real treat in store for you,” I smile at him.
Carter is a powerful beast, one second he’s a man… the next he’s a wolf-man hybrid. The cracking and shifting of bone is fast, his flesh spilling fur from it is almost too quick for the naked eye. The stronger the lycan, the smoother the change. The more in touch with the animal you are, the easier the transformation. Carter’s ability to change like this is a testament to his strength and how much his human psyche has melded to the beast within the man.
Standing seven feet tall on his hind legs. Covered in gray and white pelt, peppered with black. Large wolf ears perched on his large wolf head. Perfect snout with perfect teeth that can tear a throat out. His tail swinging behind him, helping him balance on those hind legs. Muscled arms covered in fur down to hands with long black claws for fingernails. Carter is well made, as a man or an animal.
“Magnificent,” I hear Dem whisper behind me, and I have to agree.
“Ready to serve your queen?” I ask with a smile and he growls low taking a step forward. The claws of his feet scratching oddly on the wood floors.
Mr. Stewart tries to look behind him, wanting to see the monster in the dark.
“Ah, ah, ah – keep your eyes on me,” I smile and grab his chin, forcing his eyes back to my own. I love watching the fear swim in his gaze.
They say the eyes are windows to the soul – I have to agree, because all I see inside of him is terror. He’s breathing harshly through his nose, the corners of his lips almost split with the edges of the gag pressed deeply into his mouth.
“You are going to be raped by a monster… you are going to know just a fraction of what I endured and then we shall see how far you can cast your eyes down upon me.”
He groans again behind the gag, his eyes darting around searching for… something. A friend? An escape? A holy cross to protect him? …. God? He will find none of those things here.
I take a step back, “Come Carter, let’s show Mr. Stewart what he’s won.”
I hold out an arm as Carter walks forward, around the hanging Mr. Stewart. The man screams behind his gag and shakes in the chains as his eyes fall on the beautiful beast and true horror takes hold within him.
Carter turns as he reaches my outstretched arm. I run a hand through the thick pelt on his back and he throws back his head, opening those massive jaws to growl with pleasure.
They really are impressive beasts. Part of me is sorry to know that this is the end of them. There shall be no more by decree of the Queen. This generation of berserkers shall be the world’s last and part of me wonders if the world shall be lesser for it. What is a place without its monsters? What is heaven without hell?
I run another hand down his muscled fur covered chest until I reach his belly and the sheath of his manhood.
“They are loyal Mr. Stewart, loyal to a fault… and this one has sworn himself to me in body and soul so if I tell him to rape you to death… he shall,” I look back at the hanging man.
“You may think this is what makes me evil, but in truth it makes me no different than any other evil mankind has known by its own hand for the past millennia.” I smile and pull away from Carter to walk towards Mr. Stewart. I lean in, close to his ear and let my voice drop, “What makes me a special kind of wicked is that I could make you love every bit of it and beg for more. I could make you sell your soul to me with a smile on your face and nothing but joy in your heart.” I pull back smiling, “The devil ain’t got shit on me.”
I do a perfect spin on the ball of my foot and step closer to Carter. The berserker, tall, dark… dangerous. Wolf ears perked and searching for only one thing, my next command. He’s more wolf than man, more beast than beauty – unless you’re into this sort of thing of course. If you are into getting fucked by animals – Carter would be the bees fucking knees of bestiality.
“Let’s show Mr. Stewart what’s going in his asshole this evening,” I step to the side so that the hanging man can get a good view.
Carter reaches down to his fur covered sheath and begins rubbing himself a bit. The furry flesh of his sheath pulls back and out from it his barbed cock emerges.
The barbs aren’t sharp per se, more like raised blunt spikes on the base of his cock. In some species it signals the female to ovulate, in others, they’re used to scrape a competitor’s semen from a woman to make sure it is your babe they catch… in Mr. Stewart they will be a long overdue lesson in humility.
I know the pain they cause; even I was humbled by it. The experience with Hornigold led me to commune with my mother goddess, with Lilith herself and she blessed me in that pit of death.
Now we shall see if Mr. Stewart’s god will answer him.
“Begin,” I whisper.
Carter walks around to the rear of Mr. Stewart. The man seems to find the steel in his bones and draws himself up taller.
“I will give you the advice that was given to me – don’t fight, try not to move… or he’ll kill you,” I smile.
Carter wraps an arm around the middle of Mr. Stewart, long curved claws just a whisper away from gutting the man. The berserker shifts and stoops a bit positioning himself. I stare into Mr. Stewart’s eyes so I can watch his soul fall apart.
That steel he found just a moment ago shatters into a thousand pieces as Carter surges into him. He screams behind the gag, eyes almost bulging from his skull. The air fills with the taste of sin and the smell of rot with a gentle hint of bloodied roses.
I stand witness and simply watch his destruction… he’s a squealer, not a screamer and soon I look at him as nothing more than a stuffed pig. Twenty minutes in and I can see his aura shift, the damage is now deep seeded. Now he’s ready to learn.
“Hold deep inside of him, Carter,” I order the wolf and he pushes forward with all his might, making the little pig squeal anew.
His skin smells of sickness, I notice the scent as I step close to him and reach around his head to unbuckle the gag.
“Now the first words out of your mouth better be ‘thank you, my Queen’, or I’ll cut out your tongue and let him fuck your bloody mouth next.”
I peel the gag away from his lips and he groans low with pain as his head falls forward, “Thank you, my Queen.”
I turn smiling at my audience, “He does know how to be a good boy after all.”
“They usually need training,” Dem raises his glass to me. Jack just looks on with unfiltered need.
Somewhere inside of him he wishes to be the stuffed pig, and in this moment, he can’t hide how deep the ugly goes… not with me.
I turn back to my little piggy, “Now your reward.” I whisper and cup his sad little sack gently, letting my power trickle into him. Not taking the pain away but making the pleasure more important – transforming all of the ugly into something beautiful.
He moans low with passion… need, as his sad little cock hardens.
“Begin, Carter,” I whisper, and the fucking starts again… with one difference… my piggy is loving every bit.
“The rape… that’s not what will haunt you – it’s this, it’s remembering how much you enjoyed it… that will hurt and haunt you in the night. To know you can’t ever have it again without selling your soul.”
I close off both of their Sacral chakras with a thought – making sure they won’t come so I can enjoy every bit of this.
“They raped me two by two, in every hole, in every way… for weeks…” I hiss… “then he…” I swallow… “he in all of his beastly form came down into that cave and he took me… and the only thing that saved me – was loving every bit of it.”
I wrap my hand around his little cock and begin stroking it gently, “tell me you love it.”
“I love it,” he whimpers.
Carter leans in, his snout pulled back, showing very sharp wolf teeth as he sniffs the piggy’s neck. He growls low, dangerously.
“Calm,” I whisper to him and lay a kiss on his snout, “be a good boy for your Queen and fuck him silly… but no bit
ing.”
A deep whine comes from the wolf-pelted chest and he begins working our stuffed little pig and making it squeal with delight.
“Beg for your Goddess, and I shall reward you again,” I whisper as I take my hand and power away.
“No!” He screams as the pain and horror comes rushing back, “Please come back! Please!” And even the rafters shake with his despair as I leave him to wallow in his own misery.
I turn my attentions away from Mr. Stewart and have Jack lay down on the sofa and take out his cock purely for my use and punishment… he glances at Dem as the vampire moves over to the bar to get a seat… but Jack doesn’t dare object to my order – he still needs to pay for his own part in today’s debacle and if I want his punishment witnessed, he will suffer the disgrace in silence.
He strips out of his clothes completely; in all honesty I can’t be sure if he wishes to give me more flesh to taunt or because he doesn’t want his clothes to get wrinkled while I punish him… Jack is odd like that. Or perhaps he just accepts pain and punishment, he no longer sees it as unfair, not if it’s in service to me at least.
I have him lay sideways on the luxurious sofa-bed so I can watch the intimate destruction of Mr. Stewart as I ride his cock.
“I’m sorry, Jae,” Jack whimpers as he hurries to do as ordered, he’s already hard and ready. “Please baby, I’m sorry. Let me enjoy it.”
“You like this,” I nod towards Carter and my little piggy.
He nods, “I know I don’t deserve a reward, but I’d really like to enjoy this. I’ll take the widow maker if you need, I’ll do a full session of degradation, but let me come… please baby – all I want to do is serve you.” He strokes himself, “Let me come tonight, baby please… I’ll trade you anything.”
I don’t ask why because I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know why watching a man getting raped by a half-tamed beast is doing it for him. I don’t want to know that he wishes that Lucien would do the same to him. I don’t want to know that he’s that damaged, that depraved, that… lost.
And yet… “I know,” I whisper as I pull up my skirt and straddle him.
