Arms of the Ocean Ch. 06

The thrusting continued, this time with Master's head buried to Vyla's chest where he drew a turgid nipple into his mouth and began sucking. Vyla lifted and wrapped her legs around his waist as she let out a groan.

"Oh! What is happening? My pussy burns with desire, Master."

Suddenly, going against her plans, he drew out of her slickened chasm. "No, you'll not come yet. Clean off my cock, slut," he commanded.

Vyla hesitated involuntarily as she sat up. How cruel of this man to deny his virgin the release she seemed to crave. Besides, didn't Shaslings usually consider fellatio to be a form of foreplay?

"Now, whore!" he ordered again.

"Yes master."

Her senses returned, Vyla slid from the bed and knelt before the man's rigid, throbbing member, bathed in a light shine from the juices coating it. The aroma it gave off wasn't entirely pleasant but a quick shuffling of her senses took care of that problem.

Keeping up the appearance of a virgin, Vyla made a show of curiously grasping the man's dick and examining it with an innocent interest. She lifted it up, gently touched his balls and gave a tentative lick of the head.

"What are you waiting for? Suck it!" Master ordered. His tone held sternness but a tinge of enjoyment underneath took away the edge.

Vyla brought the head of Master's cock into her mouth and began running her tongue around the end. She bobbed her head up and down slightly, inching forwards with every pass, all the while sucking with ever-gaining vigor.

Barely ten seconds had passed before Master's hands found the back of her head and pulled her in closer. Vyla could hear the review that her tonguing brought about. The room had filled with Master's 'ah's and 'mm's and the occasional bit of advice on what next she should do. As if this wretch could hope to surpass Vyla's knowledge on sex.

"Mmm," Vyla hummed on the Neynas' dick while her tongue tickled his glans.

"Ooh, stop now," Master commanded.

Vyla relaxed as the man gingerly removed his cock from her mouth. Another change of pace? Any more and these sudden changes would give her whiplash.

Master grabbed hold of Vyla's curvaceous hips and guided her back to the edge of the bed. He parted her legs and made it his turn to kneel before her. "Let me taste you," he said as he leaned in.

This had to be the first time that Master had ever done such a thing,. He didn't so much play his mouth upon her vagina as he did bury his face between her legs. The coarse stubble upon his cheeks and chin didn't help either. Vyla almost felt bad to be reinforcing such poor work as she pretended to enjoy it. The only consolation she took was the opportunity that this position granted when it came to putting an end to things.

Not once did Master's tongue gravitate towards her clit of its own volition. Most of the time he spent driving deep towards her core.

"Higher, master. Please," she begged, her voice oozing with lust.

There, a brief flick of her sensitive, little nub. Vyla released a sharp gasp to let him know that the mark had been hit. To Master's credit, his tongue returned and caressed her clit repeatedly, if a tad on the rough side.

Perhaps I can enjoy this, Vyla thought to herself with the building of a genuine climax. Her hands involuntarily found her breasts and began to paw at the pendulous mounds of flesh, occasionally moving to tease a nipple.

"Aah, so close Master. Please don't stop."

As grace had it, Master complied this time. His tonguing grew in intensity and he even reached up to take over with the tit playing. Vyla could feel the flames reaching their peak. Almost there. A little more.

"Mmha," she moaned as the wave crashed over her. Vyla's hands dug themselves into Master's sparse hair, her faculties dipping beneath the sea of pleasure that she swam among. A few soft giggles escaped her lips. Then came the time to strike.

Without dropping her cries of orgasm, for it had not yet waned, Vyla lifted her legs onto Master's shoulders and wrapped them around the back of his head. She pulled him close as if she had merely lost herself in the passion; far too close to be of comfort. A little twist of her hips caused her slickened and supple thighs to clamp down on the blood vessels in Master's neck. Then she merely waited the several seconds it took before Master's thrashes turned to slaps turned to nothing and he went limp.

Vyla released the man from her vice and he slumped to the floor, alive but unconscious.

"An average performance at best, 'master'," Vyla said as she lazily stroked her vagina for the remainder of the orgasm.

Once finished, her eyes moved to Master's crotch and she stifled a laugh. Somehow he had managed to come while being choked. White spurts of his seed had splattered across his exposed chest.

"I'll never understand you Shaslings," Vyla muttered and turned her attention to more pressing business. Namely, what to do with the man's body. A quick scan of the room revealed the best hiding place to be beneath the bed. After a fair degree of unceremonious pushing, Master's sleeping form lay secure amid the dust and dirt. There he could rest without disturbance until much later when he awoke with only a pounding headache and a bad memory of his precious virgin to keep him warm that night.

Next, Vyla shifted her body into Master's form. Somewhat tricky given his substantial gut but she managed to pad herself out sufficiently by opting to mimic a simpler set of clothing.

Vyla found Miltro back at his post outside the barroom when she returned.

The Chayli man nodded to her. "Everything to satisfaction then, sire?"

"In the end. I trust that there shall be no further difficulties on future requests," said Vyla in Master's voice.

"None, sire."

"And you shall have a chance to prove that to me presently. I noticed a foul odor in the hall outside my room. Find its source, will you, before I lose my lunch to it."

"A foul odor? I can have one of the maids check for you momentarily."

Vyla made a show of blowing out through her nose. "Did you not hear me, Miltro? I asked you to do it. I would have thought yourself grateful for such brevity in your chance to make amends."

"I— of course, sire. I go at once."

Miltro did as promised, practically flying up the stairway that led to the rooms.

As soon as Vyla was alone she turned her attention to the book that sat upon Miltro's chest-high table. A record of guests, as she had hoped. The pages held only the bare minimum of information, the rest likely kept elsewhere, but the penultimate name on the current page read Lady Telra of Bladed-Dro.

You're a long way from home, dearest, Vyla thought as she took note of the room.

Her objective took her down the right hallway rather than the left once she reached the second floor. The furnishings here were nearly identical, mediocre paintings dispersed between doorways and lamps.

Telra's room lay only a short way down. Vyla knocked but received no reply. Perfect. She put her hand to the lock and let her body creep inside where it changed to fit the tumblers. With a soft click, the door accepted Vyla and she entered.

Chests and cases lay around the room. So many places to hide. She moved to the bed and tossed its pillows underneath. Vyla then positioned herself in their place and took their form.

Soon, she told her rising urge for vengeance. I miss you, Telra, don't keep me waiting.

===

Another minute of this and I'm gonna drop over the side... Ronav groaned to himself.

For the past hour he had been standing on the tier above Lady Telra like an unseen sentinel. She presently dined at an outdoor restaurant that looked as though it specialized in Taigin cuisine. Plates of vegetable and plant-based dishes occupied every table and the aromas wafting upwards reminded Ronav of how long it had been since he'd eaten.

Why did this woman have to take so long to eat? Was there some rule in high society dictating that things take far longer than they needed to? At least it kept Lady Telra in a public, well-populated place. Vyla would never try anything here, would she? And perhaps all this delay would give her a chance to cool down and rethink whatever it was that caused this murderous impulse.

Not likely, Ronav thought. If there's one trait applicable to virtually any breed of predator, it's patience. A dread sensation told him that Vyla would be at peace with waiting a very long time.

A subtle flicker of movement around the swaying leaves below told Ronav that something new was taking place at the lady's table. Yes, at last they were leaving. She, her captain and three others that Ronav hadn't been able to place since he had first arrived here at the direction of Telra's driver.

Ronav peeled away from the handrail and journeyed along the boardwalks to a point where he could reach the tier below.

Please let this go, he silently begged to Vyla, wherever she may be lurking.

===

A click snapped Vyla to attention and her eyes fixed themselves upon the door. The world looked paler when seen through her own flesh that had been stretched thin, whitened and changed in such a way as to resemble the case of a pillow. Had Vyla presently possessed a set of lips, she might have licked them in anticipation.

At last. Relief flooded through Vyla's body as her prey entered the room. She'd changed outfits but looked as flush and intricately dressed as ever. Mine at last.

Much as Vyla's instinct dictated otherwise, she couldn't stand to make things quick. This situation called for the same level of intimacy as their previous sessions, albeit in a different vein.

Once the lady's back was turned, Vyla rippled and pulled together so that she lay sprawled seductively upon the bed. The softest ruffle of the sheets tipped her prey off.

"Oh! Ka's name," Telra gasped. Her muscles clenched and relaxed again all in an instant and one hand went to her chest. "You scared me half to death."

"I've been waiting for you," Vyla purred as she slipped from the bed. "You are a naughty girl to keep poor mistress waiting so long."

Telra's eyes strayed south and her bottom lip gently pinched between her teeth. "Right now?" she whispered, her voice hinting at a building lust.

"Oh yes." Vyla reached forwards to an anxious lady. Now we begin, she breathed to herself.

Two hands touched and Vyla froze as she felt something that should not have been there. Something new since she had last brushed the skin of this woman. A sensation that filled her with the utmost dread.

"No," Vyla whispered.

Telra's liquid gaze melted away and she smiled. "I suppose this is a case of mistaken identity."

Time seemed to slow down then. A blur of movement flicked past Vyla's eyes so fast she barely had time to jump at the shock. In a daze, she looked down at her left arm from which there now emanated a searing sting of pain. Rather, where her arm had been. Now it ended above the elbow. The razor-edged weapon that had made it so grew from the shoulder of Lady Telra where too an arm had been.

Both snapped to action then. Vyla out of her daze and the lady out of her jesting and both sprang away from the other.

Vyla raised her arms, channeling flesh from all over her body to reform the left in its entirety. So much of her body severed already. Not good.

A quick glance confirmed that her arm had landed upon the bed. Retrieving it might be a good idea so that it could be reabsorbed and, haste granting, used immediately.

Meanwhile the other Siren in the room had changed shape mid leap and now stood before Vyla in a far more predatorial form.

"Zeerae, in case you are wondering," she said as introduction.

"I wasn't," Vyla lied. Not that such a lie would fool a fellow Siren.

"You should. You should also wonder which I am." Zeerae opened her mouth wide to bare twin rows of razor-sharp teeth. "Shasteless," she hissed.

Vyla's heart sank from her chest, for two reasons. First out of fear but second to move it somewhere more secure. Her brain followed as it re-assessed her odds of survival from unknown to slim.

The Shasteless, anyone but them. They were the land hunters, the most elite branch of the Siren military. This Zeerae showed that nature off in the way she now stood, poised and ready to strike at an instants notice. The arm blade had vanished to be replaced with a lethal set of claws where her hands should have been. Her hair was colored a deep indigo and styled into braids. As Vyla watched them, they stood, pointed towards her and gleamed with tiny knives wrapped in the ends.

Zeerae wore a turquoise, single-piece suit that stopped at her elbows and knees and had silvery metal plates in places. Sirens couldn't replicate anything so dense as metal. This was real armor. A supremely-equipped assassin tasked to pursue the world's most dangerous prey.

"What do you want? Why am I being hunted?" Vyla asked. Her gaze flicked to her fallen arm momentarily. A mistake, but she could almost hear the flesh screaming to be restored to its home.

"You know very well the answers to those."

"How did you find—"

"We are done talking."

Zeerae attacked then with everything she had revealed in her arsenal, plus several things more. She pounced forwards, her hair flicking a barrage of steel ahead as her arms and legs stretched out to rake claws at her prey.

Vyla turned her forearm to bone, widened it and slapped the knives away as she dodged to one side. Then they were in melee and the air blurred with movement.

Swords and claws of coral, bone and steel flashed from one to the other. Most attacks hissed harmlessly through the air. The occasional strike that connected did little more than leave cuts upon the skin which closed immediately as the damaged flesh retreated inside to regenerate.

Their trades were far from fair. For every cut Vyla made she received three in return. A good slice across Zeerae's chest earned two on her forearms. Then a third came searing from the side to cross her neck. Too late to dodge.

Vyla's shapeshifting muscles clenched together and solidified in a fraction of a second. Zeerae's bladed arm connected with a crunch and lodged in the valley it had carved.

The force of the blow left Vyla reeling but she retained enough sense to pull her eyes down into her chest. At the same time she changed the shape of her face to mask the relocation.

"You're slowing," Zeerae whispered. She lifted one leg, planted it against Vyla then kicked backwards as she jerked her arm the rest of the way through her victim's neck.

Vyla's head came away and spun towards the floor where it rolled several feet before stopping, almost comically, to stare back at them.

Vyla slipped past Zeerae and dove for her parted pieces of body, even managing to lash out for her fallen arm as she passed by. In one movement she whirled around, grabbed the lamp that rested on one of the bedside tables and hurled it at Zeerae.

With a crash and a skittering of shattered porcelain the lamp exploded against Zeerae's solidified forearm.

The assassin placed her hands on her hips. "That's crude of you. And we're making too much noise. The dirt walls of this place may muffle most sound but I imagine someone will hear us soon."

Vyla could only huff wearily as she took these precious seconds to put everything back in order. Much of the flesh of her reacquired arm and head was damaged and unusable but she took what she could.

"I'm going to kill you now," said Zeerae. There was no threatening tone to these words or effort at intimidation. She simply stated a fact. The fun of fighting had faded and she now intended to bring things to a close. Nothing more.

Both arms of the Shasteless bulged and rippled as something moved down from the shoulders. Her skin parted and razor edges of a fine steel rose to fill the gaps. Her arms stretched, filling with this new weapon, until they could hardly be referred to as arms. More accurately, metal-edged whips of flesh.

Byal ey silpta, Vyla cursed. She recognised a Naylix when she saw one. An extremely effective weapon at battling light or unarmored opponents. Namely, other Sirens.

Zeerae's attacks came marginally slower now but they reached halfway across the room. Vorpal ribbons lashed relentlessly at Vyla, shearing through the air wherever she dared to move.

It only took a few seconds from the beginning of the barrage for the end to arrive. Zeerae's right arm drew back and harpooned towards Vyla as the left kept her pinned in a corner. With nowhere to flee, Vyla could do nothing but move her heart and brain out of the way a fraction of a second before Zeerae speared her in the abdomen.

Vyla knew what happened next, she had seen fights like these in the arenas back home. Zeerae pulled her weapon back, having widened it at the end, and ripped her victim in half.

The floor came up quickly but Vyla made no effort to brace against the fall. Nothing mattered anymore. Fighting back had become a distant dream. So much damage to her body had meant any shapeshifting would be sluggish and less than impressive at best. She could only watch as Zeerae moved in.

"Quyl cur zeer kovotrae?" she asked. Where are your vitals?

Though it took considerable effort, Vyla parted the flesh of her chest to expose her brain and heart together.

"Yech, put those away. I only ask so I know where not to cut."

"Wha—Ksh!" Vyla hissed.

Zeerae's work began, one arm returned to a blade of bone. Her skill at separating flesh shone through as she severed Vyla's limbs one by one with a single blow to each. She then placed them aside in a pile before stabbing them over and over until little remained of their original form. "I can't have you changing shape in transit."

Vyla understood immediately. Zeerae had damaged Vyla's flesh so severely that even when reunited with it she could do little more than slap helplessly at the walls of her prison. Well, that would do it.

Zeerae brought over one of the trunks, opened it and emptied its contents. She then dumped Vyla's ravaged limbs inside, followed by Vyla herself.

Secured in place, the lid closed overhead with a thunk and a click of the latches. Vyla drew her poor, tormented flesh back in and silently cursed the damage. It would take days of rest for her to regenerate fully. At the moment, even if she could stand upright and take a humanoid form, her skin would have an unnatural give to it. Like a water-filled bag, truly the essence of it, as the wounds of her body could manage nothing more than liquid.

"What now?" Vyla asked through the muffling confines of the case.

"I bring you somewhere secure. Then we talk."

A flash of fear chilled her body. Sirens were not known for their heart to heart talks. The Shasteless far more so. This would be a talk for a dungeon, not a parlor, with tools of torture ready and eager.