Sephalla, My Nightmare Ch. 09

***The characters referenced in this story are Sixth-Formers, aged 18, or they are teachers. No character is any younger than 18***

It's Sephalla's week, so...her rules apply. My week, starting next Monday. Then things flip, and I'm in control, and she's fully in the role of submissive. And then we flip, again, as per the arrangement. The dirty deal, to satisfy both of us in terms of switching things up.

Yesterday, she fucked my arse for the first time. Thirty inches of demonic horse dick rammed into my human innards, resulting in an orgasm like no other. Resulting, as well, in a belly loaded to the limits with a virile volume of nightmare spooge. A wonderful way to start things off, at least. To set the tone: that when Seph is in charge, in the role of Mistress, I'm little more than a cocksleeve for her needs.

Yet for all the roughness, the effortless domination, Sephalla treats me with tremendous affection. As I laid there on the floor yesterday afternoon, she lay beside me, only the slightest hint of meanness escaping her perfect mouth when she laughed -- and I joined in -- at the fact that the enormous quantity of ejaculate left me effectively paralysed until the early evening.

Something to get used to, apparently. Something that'll be easier to manage, the more and more her demonic dick milk empowers me, making me into some hybrid human-infernal. Though, unfortunately, the body doesn't absorb it through the guts in quite the same way as it does through the stomach.

'The process is mystical, not scientific,' Sephalla said, having eventually helped me up, to carry me in her strong, gentle arms. 'The belly has importance, as the seat of consumption. Your butt, not so much. We'll have to train that stomach some more, to get things moving in the right direction...'

A tempting prospect, though Sephalla's terms are...less so?

Exciting, there's no doubt about that. The idea that, during those weeks when she's the dominant partner, I'm going to forgo ordinary nutrition in favour of consuming regular quantities of her demonic horse tadpoles is deeply arousing. Though it does mean a certain degree of going around school with a fatter belly than I'd like.

It means dialling up the gossip surrounding us -- gossip I've had my role in inflaming, with my desire to make things "official" in an outward sense -- to a much more intimate degree. Why do Jake and Sephalla disappear around lunch break? Why does Jake go around looking like he's eaten a banquet all to himself? Why does Sephalla pat his belly on occasion and smile with the utmost smugness?

It's an idea that keeps me up on Monday evening, but only because I can't manage to get my cock to go down. It throbs violently, in need of release, but I take this role-play of ours with the utmost seriousness. My loads are for spilling only in her presence, and even then, only as and when she allows me to do so.

A simple, yet effective deterrent.

Thus when Tuesday morning rolls around I pass on breakfast, thinking only of the day's dirtiness, fast approaching. To forgo ordinary food in favour of her demonic foal milk is at once depraved and divine, resulting in an awkward boner on the bus ride. People look at me and whisper among themselves, all the same, because I'm with the scary monster girl. Because someone doubtless saw Seph carrying me to the train station last night, in lieu of the late bus I missed for being so cream-filled.

It's strangely empowering, honestly. That we can attract so much attention for what? Being different? The start of things was rough, but now everything is ideal. Sephalla isn't scary, not really. Lonely, more than anything. An outcast of sorts, in large part because there's an expectation that monster girls should be simple and pretty. All of the more "monstrous" types end up being loners, though most aren't quite as, well, casually abrasive as Sephalla the Magnificent.

I know they're not jealous of me, as such, but I get the strong impression that they would be, if they knew the degree of paradise I've got waiting for me each and every time I end up alone with Seph. It's not like I imagined I'd like futa dick, after all, but I'm not sure I could -- even if I had to -- find enjoyment in a regular woman. That Sephalla has everything going for her, all possible permutations of the perverse at her disposal when it comes to us enjoying one another, is something I'll never take for granted.

When I arrive at school, I find Seph waiting for me. She affixes me with an assertive gaze as I walk towards the main entrance, devouring me with those coal-seam eyes. Where my own have some light to them, a flare capable of faintly illuminating objects in front of my face in a dark room, Sephalla's are bright orange gemstones in her face, ringed in tastefully applied makeup and bursting with beauty.

The gorgeous goth-punk goddess is as enticing today as ever. Her hair, living blue fire, runs like a mane down her back, its emo fringe for the moment behaving itself. That same azure light dances side to side in the form of her equid tail, swishing with faint excitement to behold me. A faux leather jacket makes up the outermost layer of clothing, a death metal t-shirt beneath it for a change revealing little of her torso -- as if those breasts and hips don't, by merit of sheer size, show themselves regardless. Blue and black being her colours -- the denim of her cut-down shorts not so bright as her flames -- seems fitting, and yet doesn't quite match her moods. Red, for lust, or pink, for sweetness, might be a better reflection of the woman's soul, though there's something appealing about having its secretive nature known only to my lucky self.

'There's a hunger in your eyes,' she says, smirking. All pleased with herself, my "owner" for the week. 'I like that look. No breakfast for you, I take it?'

'None, Mistress. Just like you asked of me.'

Seph's cheeks grow flush, her weakness to such moments of affection unfaltering, no matter how illicit or depraved. This is going to be a lot of fun, for both of us. A learning experience for both of us, as we explore these ever-rotating roles, and enjoy all manner of dirty desires.

But even though I'm meant to be the submissive partner at present, it's still cute as fuck to see her blush on account of me using her preferred title.

To my surprise, however, Seph says nothing. She steps to the side of the passing throng of fellow pupils and I instinctually go with her, the towering inferno some lighthouse in the sea of irrelevant faces, this herd of nobodies that have no real interest to either of us.

'Can you wait until first break?' she says, suppressing a smirk.

'If I have to, I guess? I mean...'

'What?'

'Just that it's not like my tutor is going to notice if I turn up or don't. He barely pays attention to any of that stuff.'

With utmost casualness, the smouldering stallion moves closer to me, making a show of pushing her groin against my shoulder. The cramped quarters within her jeans shorts, their contents opulent and obvious, send a chill down my back. While her cock is sheathed, her sextet of titanic testicles, stuffed to the brim with her supernatural seed, are impossible to ignore from their sheer heft and weight.

Her smell, that sulphurous sweetness, pairs with the heat of her body and the vastness of her loins. I wouldn't think missing breakfast, by itself, would induce so sorry a state of desire but here I am, nonetheless, craving her cum. Craving a meal, if it can be called that, which sates and corrupts me, and gives her no end of perverse prideful pleasure.

'I'm sure we can find somewhere quiet,' Sephalla says, her act of casual crotch grinding managing, somehow, to attract no untoward attention. Bold of her to do it, even so. 'Let's go fill that belly, cumslut. I've got plenty of would-be foals waiting to baptise that tongue.'

Perhaps once, I might've been scared. Something in me harkens back to the beginning of this, to the incident which brought Seph into my life in a far more intimate fashion than she had previously occupied.

Back then I was terrified of her. Completely at her mercy, weak and pathetic, fearing the evils of this apparent villain at the tail-end of my life's adolescent story segment. But here and now, I can look up at her beautiful face with a smile. I can behold the nightmare in full and fiery glory, without needing for a moment to turn away.

'What's that look for?'

I smile, and shake my head. 'Nothing in particular. Where's this spot, Mistress?'

'Come. We'll find it.'

It's little things that remind me, time and again, that there is no power imbalance here. That Seph is mine as I am hers, partaking of this thing which is mutual and magical. For all her height and power, it takes but a word, a playful title, to provoke further flushness on her cheeks. I wonder if it'll ever become mundane to her, given what must be the raw psychological appeal of it.

She turns, and I follow, the two of us slipping away from the morning throng as they find their various tutor rooms or otherwise distract themselves before the first lesson of the day. I've never been so naughty as I am with Sephalla, but this feels particularly bad. Skipping tutor, potentially arriving late to my first lesson. And when I do, without a doubt, the evidence of my "sin" is going to be bulging my belly.

The towering inferno, gothic and gorgeous, leads me round the back of the cafeteria to the Maths block. From there, we pass along the side of the large building -- one of the newer ones -- and find an otherwise unimpressive door. A door which Seph opens with...a crackle of blue flame from her finger.

'It doesn't do any damage, before you ask,' she says, gesturing for me to go inside. 'It's just a minor charm, and the lock is dead simple. Not like they have much to protect, in a storage room like this.'

As I step within the oversized cupboard, clearly accessible only from the outside, her words ring true. It's just boxes of exercise books, to be given out at the start of the term, or as replacements, but nothing more exciting than that. Stationary, perhaps, lurks in some of the boxes or on the shelves. But there's a more prominent thought, on the mind.

'Why do you know about this place?'

She moves inside and casually barges me out of her way with a sway of those wide womanly hips, catching me with inhuman gentle quickness before I actually collide with the row of shelving to my right. Sephalla shuts the door and flicks on the light, leaving us in perfect privacy. The room is high-ceilinged, but given her sheer stature it's not quite tall enough for the nightmare to stand at full height without brushing her head.

'Reasons,' Seph says, turning to face me. The faint flutter to her eyes, and the slightly awkward smile on her lips, speak volumes. 'It makes a good place to write those dirty stories I had about us, you know? It's not like anyone comes here. It's just a matter of picking the right times of the term, and the day, and then it's a quiet little sanctuary.'

Her strength is obvious, and impressive, in the way she moves several of the file cabinets to lay them on their sides, forming something of a stack upon which to sit. Low, of course, but just the right height for her balls to dangle over the edge of the makeshift chair. Which they will, the moment she removes those jeans shorts and frees the beast.

I get the impression, as Sephalla brings her weight down upon the makeshift metal blowjob throne, that she's done this before. Not necessarily the oral sex side of it, but at the very least I can picture her in here by herself. Wanking or not, depending on the circumstances.

Neither seems exactly unlikely, given what I know of the towering inferno and her unrelenting tendency towards lustiness. Nobody else, to my knowledge, has anything like her dirty diary and its collection of tales.

'What's that look for?' she says, the cabinets faintly protesting as her perfect posterior comes to rest heavily upon them. The nightmare smirks, black lips luscious and glossy. Her eyes glow, flare brighter, and she shakes her head at me, living-flame mane shifting. 'Oh. I know what you're going to say. The answer's no, because you know what kind of mess would result.'

I can't help but chuckle, the sound bouncing off the close walls and coming back at me louder for the fact. 'You were writing those stories without even touching yourself?'

Sephalla rolls her eyes. 'Of course I was touching myself. But that's the benefit of girl parts, you know? The two aren't hooked up, not unless I put special effort in. Can you imagine if I dropped a load in here? It'd stink of jizz forever, given they don't clean it.'

Her expression rapidly shifts from dismissive to delectable, eyeing me up with those coal-seam gemstones. For here, of course, exists a possible means to both ejaculate and not deal with the messy aftermath. Particularly given the fact that this is her week to make demands of me, and we both share a predilection for prolonged bouts of oral sex.

'What are you going to say, to explain your belly bulge?' Seph says, wetting her lustrous black lips with the violet sleekness of her tongue, passingly showing off that piercing. 'Or are you going to be a coward, and refuse me?'

'No, Mistress. I've no intention of refusing.'

It's a balancing act, to play submissive for her. Honestly, I'm going to have to incorporate a certain amount of dominant service into my weeks, simply because the thrill which blossoms inside of my chest when she blushes faintly is too much to contend with. I don't advance on her -- not without being expressly told to do so -- but I'm also not going to simply do nothing.

Sephalla chews her lower lip in a sensual manner, watching me with interest aflame as I slowly descend onto my knees, finding the thin cheap carpet lining of the storage room floor uncomfortable but nonetheless a necessary consequence of our sordid situation.

After all, a price has to be paid for such perfection, right?

'I gotta say, Jakey, you're fucking great at this.' The naughty nightmare, pushing through her intense excitement, beckons to me with an elegant finger. 'Come to Mistress, slut. Come pull out my morning load.'

'Anything for you, Mistress.'

It's impossible to avoid noticing the bulge in Sephalla's jeans shorts, no matter the occasion, but it's particularly prominent right now. The lump, like the size of a football, all but lacks for definition until I make the first shuffling shift across the floor towards her sublime self. She towers over me, beautiful and intimidating without presenting anything like a genuine threat, and seems to grow that much larger with every inch I advance.

'Good little slut.'

I shiver as Seph takes hold of my head, bringing a strong hand down upon my hair, its size and strength inducing a deep sense of submission and satisfaction. The statuesque demoness could overpower me with ease, but she doesn't have to. Here I am, fully at her disposal, ready to tend to her needs.

My cock twitches as she widens her stance, those big boots -- cool as can be, much as part of me wants to see her with hoofs -- gliding smoothly across the rough-fibred carpet. Inviting me closer, in a gesture. Inviting me to sandwich myself between her thighs and take full advantage of the humungous horse cock lurking inside those shorts.

The heat of her body permeates the distance between us, radiant warmth tinged with her substantial smells. Potency, sexual and metaphysical. Her perfume, her body wash, and that sulphurous sweetness so uniquely Sephalla's. A coolish day in late Spring, the little storage room particularly so, but the beautiful body of my flame-maned mistress keeps everything plenty toasty.

'You're so perfect, Mistress,' I say, reaching for her thighs, sinking my hands into the silken softness of her fine fur, upon the womanly thickness and muscular vigour of her legs. 'I can't imagine anyone in all the world is a better match for me than you.'

She sucks in a gentle breath as I run my fingers along her inner thighs, towards the torn fabric making up each eyelet of her jeans shorts. The powerful muscles flex and shift beneath my intrepid touch, the bulge in the denim ahead of me growing fit to bursting with the sheer quantity of cock and balls stuffed into those tight bottoms.

I lose a bit of patience and rush for the belt buckle, coming to a rapid halt when the towering inferno seizes hold of my head and locks me in place. The note of laughter that leaves her lovely lips is a raw and true embodiment of lust, and when I meet her eyes I find nought but delicious dominance.

'Do you promise that?' she says, eyes glowing all the brighter. 'Do you swear it?'

'Yes, Mistress. I swear it.' I press my hands to her belt, to the top of her fly. Her bulging behemoth warms my palms, strains and swells at its confines like some fabled beast seeking an escape from a restrictive prison. 'You're my Mistress, and there is nobody I want more than you. I...I never imagined I'd find anyone half so perfect as you.'

Sephalla moves with ever-impressive quicksilver quickness, casually pushing me onto my calves and leaning forwards to bring her lips down upon mine. Mwah. Smack. Mlep. The kiss catches me off-guard with its force and fire, a thing of tremendous passion and tantalising ferociousness.

'Mhm. Mhaah.'

She moans into my mouth, her tongue delivering a series of lovely lashings against my own, filling my world with the warmth of her breath, the sweet smokiness of her spit, and the prominent metallic heat of her tongue stud. In an instant my cock is fully engorged, uncomfortably pressing against its bindings in my boxers and trousers. And when Sephalla withdraws, licking her lips of my spit, the smirk on her mouth is a thing of devilish divinity.

'You're a good boy, Jakey. The feeling is very mutual.' She keeps hold of me a moment longer, studying my face, and then straightens up to her full and intimidating height atop the makeshift throne of overturned filing cabinets. 'Good boys get big, delicious rewards from Mistress. Come get yours.'

She pulls her hand away from me in a flirtatious fashion, dipping it down to cup my face and then slides her fingers gently across my cheeks, dragging me towards her beautiful body with the richest of salacious smirks upon her black lacquered lips.

My gaze drops from hers, down past her ridiculously fat R-cup breasts in an ever-tight death metal t-shirt, noting briefly the piercing through her belly button, all the way to my hands lingering there on her belt buckle. Sephalla flexes her hips, provoking her member to swell and thicken, prodding against the bottoms of my hands.

'Thank you, Mistress. You're too kind.'

I'm impressed with myself, across the board. That I manage to speak clearly yet softly, as meekly as I can in favour of her strength and vigour. That I don't stutter, that I don't fumble with the buckle and struggle with the belt as she slides her gait wider again. That I don't gawp and gasp when at last the raw physical prominence of her beefy prick urges open the zipper of her fly all of its own accord.

The deliciously indigo demonic horse cock slides forth and grows inch after inch towards its full and tremendously titanic size before my eyes. A thing of baleful beauty and generous gorgeousness, an equine erection with the unmistakable infernal qualities that suit her naughty nightmarish nature. Its head, that fatal flare, provokes a licking of my lips as the already-oozing proud prominence surges up towards me to deliver a crude and sloppy kiss to the side of my neck.

'Good boy,' she says, chuckling carnally. 'I've got so many strong would-be nightmare foals to feed you, cumslut. Your belly is gonna be squirming for half the day.' Seph pats my head, treats me like the slutty starving pet that I am. 'You're excited, aren't you, Jakey? All that stallion sperm, with your name on it. Can you imagine anything better?'