The Judgement Moon Pt. 03

Kalvan nodded. "I as well--but also from the maids."

Cais managed a hoarse laugh.

THIRD RIDING - CURRENT - HEATHER

By the time the sun had reached the treetops, it was clear to Heather that something had gone wrong with her young cousin. "We cannot stay," decided the Dame Knight, already mounted on her Unclean Steed. "Kalvan, you will need to stay behind to receive the girl. If she is missing in the morning, I will return and we will seek her--but she cannot come in the night to a darkened, empty and locked house.

Kalvan nodded.

"May I stay as well, Dame Knight?" Heather asked, surprising herself with the question.

The knight gave her such a look that it almost silenced her there, but she continued: "The girl and her guide don't know us but they will certainly not know your livery or your footman, Mistress. At least I am kin and can properly receive her without causing her or her guide to believe us robbers or malefactors."

"She'll be as safe with me as I'll be by myself," Kalvan said.

Mrs. Weatherthrop wanted to stay--but Jasob forbade it. Someone would need to travel with, and mind, the girls. Jasob would have stayed, but apparently the Dame Knight required him to speak to the other farmers of the beast she had slain. None of the others nor, she estimated, herself, would do for this.

In the end, the Judgment Moon waxed huge and pale in the twilight as the wagon piled with belongings and Weatherthrops disappeared into one of the rolling lowlands and left Heather and Kalvan alone.

He had already inspected the house: it was sturdy enough and had only two ground-floor doors... but while it had heavy shutters closed and bolted over every window, he didn't think they would hold up long under actual assault. He took her in, and then to the stair to the upper floor. There was a cellar as well, but its opening was outside the house. Heather didn't think it would be a good place to spend the night in the dank wet.

"If there's trouble," Kalvan said, "and I doubt there will be, stay behind me. I'll hold whatever comes for us at the stair. Be prepared to open a window and get out to the roof. From there, if pressed, we'll fall back to the barn. If we're assailed by those things, perhaps the smell of one of their kin dead will put them off."

"Should we keep watch?" she asked.

"I'll stay on guard," he told her.

Indeed, they stood in the room in which Kalvan had slept. It was the only room with an oil lamp burning now and they had the shutters open to look out at the road that approached from the nearest Riding Square. It seemed almost as bright as day under the Judgement Moon's phantom light.

He put an arm around her. They stood there for quite a time.

She couldn't say how late--or early--it was when she became aware of the sound. Kalvan stood by the window, peering out into the too-bright night, looking for something. She sat up and listened. It came again: yowl like one of the big hunting cats that prowled around at night, but far deeper and more... malevolent.

She was certain that was the sound one of the things in the barn made. Kalvan made to quiet her should she cry out, but she deftly got out from under the thin sheet she'd covered herself with and slid her feet into her boots. She was shaking but she got them fastened. She was glad to see Kalvan's hand on the hilt of his blade as he stood at the window.

"Where is it?" she whispered, moving next to him, but not trying to see out as well.

"Don't know," he said. "I saw something--I think--by the tree. I can't be sure. They're big--but they're black and despite that thing filling up the sky, it's cursedly hard to see!"

They stood in silence. Heather's ears were straining to catch any sound.

"What do you think it does if it catches someone?" she asked.

"If you're lucky, it'll just be the worst night of your life," Kalvan said. "I've heard that a lot of Unclean, they just... savage you. I mean, sometimes the effects last for a time. That's bad but...

"But?" Heather asked.

"Some of them, they devour you and you might become part of it for a good long while--or move through a digestive tract that's one torment after another... or, in some cases, my mistress has said they send you off 'elsewhere.'"

He looked at her, his eyes looked big in the darkness.

"Elsewhere," she said. "Certainly nowhere pleasant."

He nodded.

"Let's not find out," Heather said.

"I agree. The girl isn't late--she's not coming. We leave at dawn. My Mistress doesn't think they're as active during the day."

"Did she say why?" Heather asked.

"No--but she's got quite a record of hunting and killing Unclean. I'll take her word for it. Even if she's wrong, in the day we'll at least see them coming."

"If your mistress killed three of them, do you think you can kill one?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "She didn't say--but I think she may have killed... three... at once?"

Heather blinked. "You think--"

"She described them to me as a hunting party of the things. That makes me think they weren't individual loners. Anyway, no. I've had training but something that big? Unless it's much slower than it looks. Also, I'm carrying a blade of office. She has her great sword and an artefact spear. Not to mention armor."

Heather wished she hadn't suggested they stay. It was too late now, though.

It was minutes of watchful silence later that they heard another noise: something moving stealthily downstairs.

"Foo!" Kalvan swore in a hush. Then "I'm going to hold the stairs!"

She starred, trembling, as he slid, shaking out the door. He pulled it softly behind him. His blade was held out.

Heather heard a creak on the stairs. Was it Kalvan? One of the monsters?

"Shit, shit, shit," she swore under her breath, frantically. If it got past him? If it got him? He had said to get out on the roof and try to make it to the barn? She didn't want to abandon him--but another soft creak on the stairs and she felt certain one of the things moved out there.

"K-Kalvan?" she said as loud as she dared. Nothing--more creaks and sounds of the house. Sounds she almost recognized. Soft, stealthy footfalls. She couldn't wait anymore. She rushed forward and flung the door open.

Filling the space at the top of the landing like a wall of black fur with green eyes, was one of the things. A hot pink tongue covered with suckers flickered in its gigantic v-shaped mouth. She gave a scream--it came out as a squeak. She stepped backwards, feeling her knees go weak.

"Knock. Knock," said the thing with a soft, malevolent purr. "I smell a dirty little, delicious little, masturbator."

It stepped into the room matching her as she retreated back against the bed.

"You have made a playground of your dirty place," it said, its voice soft and androgenous. "So now I'm going to get to play too."

"I'm going to bed you, little masturbator," it said, moving almost like a black liquid as its long body flowed into the room. "You will get to fuck my stinger," it told her. "If you're very, very good and beg very, very nicely, I'll only use it in one of your holes."

Now its huge green cat eyes were inches from her face. Its breath smelled of fish--of unclean sexes--she clambered back up onto the bed. A black paw flickered out, and pinned her on the bed. Heather screamed again, this time finding her voice, but her mouth was stuffed by its long pink tongue.

She gagged and her eyes watered. She couldn't breathe! The tongue relented and she felt a hot stripe of pain down her right flank! Then another down her left--her clothing was shredded. She flailed, battering at it as it loomed over her.

"We aren't being very well behaved," it chuckled. "I will enjoy plundering your anus then, masturbator! I will teach you what these regions are for," it mused leering down at her. It had many paws and one of them hooked on her shirt, shredding it off her. A line of fire as its claw sliced her panties apart. Now, one boot having come off, her foot slid helplessly on the bed under it.

She could see its underbelly now, a huge lengthwise black mouth between its many feline legs. Back at its pelvis was a bulging black and yellow wasp stinger--for a wasp the size of a horse. One of its paws batted her thighs apart, and it flexed its hips, sliding up on her--She felt the stinger as thick as her wrist press painfully into her channel and she wailed. At the very tip, it was curved so that it stung her in the spongy tissue directly behind her clitoris.

The result was a jolt of pain, terribly intimate and invasive, and on top of the pain, a humiliating flood of urine. Her entire region felt hot, swollen or swelling. As the pain of the sting seemed to grow and smoulder like a forge in her, she felt a heaviness in her limbs. She could move, but not well, struggle, but only just. Even her cries sounded hoarse.

"That's right, little masturbator," it told her. "That part is for peeing--and babies when you are old enough! Not for fun... unless it's MY fun," it told her.

"Mmm--a few more stings there and I'll be ready to pop it!" It taunted her. The stinger drove deeper, lifting her buttocks off the floor. It stung her again, inside, and she let out a soft, wailing cry. Heat surged in her region and she felt contractions--cramps --and leakage. Fluid oozing out of her sex, her urethra. Her clitoris felt swollen, like it might burst. She was vaguely aware that her nipples were hard.

It moved its stinger in and out, a slow cadence, and yes, horribly, where her clit encountered its soft fur, there were stirrings of pleasure amid the horror.

"Is that a cervix I feel, little masturbator?" It taunted, deep inside her, stretching her canal painfully.

"No," she begged, "please--mercy!"

It gave a rumbling laugh. "We've a long night ahead of us, bad little masturbator. There isn't going to be much mercy, I'm afraid." The tongue, covered with mucus like slime, licked across her throat and face.

"Wrap your legs around me, little masturbator," I whispered. "Give my stinger a good fuck and I'll consider some restraint when I use your anus." It chuckled, and sobbing, she raised her legs, one to either side of its sleek body.

It stung her again, deep--the feeling was a terrible shocking buzz somewhere deep in her channel and she felt another gush of fluid from her--oozing out of her sex and now her anus, soaking into the bed. Her wail was soft and long and it continued to slowly pump, her clit buried in its fur so that even suffering grandly, she gave it a wet, humiliating, vocalization.

"Oh dear," it mocked. "If we can't hold our cums, I'll have to eat you up after our long, thorough fuck." It extended the last words in a cruel purr. She shook her head, sobbing wretchedly.

"Oh, no--oh please," she begged it.

"You'll get to see the Judgment Moon," it laughed. "My home! We do so love our dirty little masturbators there."

Its tail, splitting at the end into smaller tails, each as big around as a man's cock, curved under it and one of the fur covered ends found her anus, now helplessly oozing whatever poison it had injected her with.

She gasped as it entered her. Its fur was soft and would have been entirely pleasant to touch, but the fur at the tip of its tails caused irritation of the skin! Helplessly, her anus stretched around the intruder as it slowly burrowed deeper into her.

She gasped in panic and distress-- her sphincter felt stretched, itchy, slimed and dirty. Inside, she felt terribly full. The sense of the thing going deeper and deeper in was frightful. It was moving slowly, and it was slick, but the horrible violation was unbearable.

While nothing escaped, the sensation of helplessly and profoundly moving her bowels as the irritation of the tail gripped her was a humiliating, degrading loss of control. She gave another throaty moan as its tongue lightly caressed and slimed her lips.

"My little masturbator is going to have an anal orgasm," it predicted. The muscles in her sex spasmed and a terrible spray of its fluid burst out over its fur and stinger. "Those are deliciously dirty, you disgusting little thing!"

She felt terror as the mouth along its underside spread then, opening slightly so that several tongues, like human tongues, but much larger, could escape and slather her body with its saliva, soaking her and tasting her.

Oh, mercy! She felt it--the bubble of release it had located deep in her! Its tail tip was wiggling very slightly so that the sensations were inexorable. She was in severe discomfort and fear--but her body was surrendering all control and the huge under-mouth opened wider, the closer she got. Ghastly moonlight spilled out of the mouth.

It continued its strokes with the stinger as it continued strokes with the tail. She was full beyond endurance. The poison had made her heavy. It left her feeling weak and warm, like she might melt into the bed. Under some circumstances, the feeling could have been pleasant.

Here, however, it just amplified her helplessness in the terrible thing's clutches. The thing was going to force the orgasm on her. She knew that. Her grip on fighting it was failing, and it had never intended this to be a fair game, anyway. Maybe, just maybe, if it stung her again, the pain might block the foul spend it was conjuring in her.

It snickered at her helpless attempts to fight its will. And as she toppled from the moaning plateau of sexual passion of the cliff of orgasm, its mouth spread wide and the tongues slipped around her hips and thighs, and ribs, and shoulders, lifting her into its maw.

Kalvan rammed his sword through its ear.

She screamed in the clutches of an orgasm that, for a time, obliterated everything. It burst humiliating from her anus, but its power was undeniable.

She could feel the thing's tongues, lapping the release away in what would have been a soul-crushing ruin of her release, but Kalvan's blade had gone deep into its head and the wicked light in its huge green cat's eyes had gone out.

She could feel Kalvan trying to reach her--in its belly, in her room--but he seemed too far away.

"Foo," he swore. And then he clambered through its yawing mouth after her.

THE WESTERN WOOD - ASTALIA

Astalia was still naked and, again, trussed. She had been moved to another room in the spirit's home--one that was dedicated to the punishment of badly behaved humans, she thought.

Fresta was here too--the girl sat, naked, on a low stool. Her hands were tied behind her, with a complex knot that crossed the rope over her chest in an X pattern, going over her shoulders and under her breasts. It didn't look constrictingly tight, just snug. Her ankles were cuffed to the sides of the stool, so it held her legs open. Astalia was dismayed--but not surprised--to see the base of some large phallus affixed to the stool and disappearing into her vagina.

Astalia thought she must be under some art, for her clit was powerfully erect and prominent, and the girl's breasts were swollen. Astalia thought she saw faint gleaming tracks of dribble down the girl's chest. Was she lactating? Leaking breast milk?

She definitely looked uncomfortable and unhappy--but the rabbit spirit checked on her and asked her some quiet questions and she'd nodded. She was holding together. Astalia would have preferred to see her secretary suffering worse. The indignity of having been whipped with the lash she'd meant for the girl was an added insult to injury!

Of course, she wasn't going to worry about the girl she had herself to be concerned with.

The bunny -spirit woman, dressed in overalls like a farmer, walked over to where Astalia had been standing, with the bandit queen's girls standing on either side should she decide to provide any resistance.

She hadn't. When the bunny spirit had returned to look her over, she had felt sulky shame as the Sprite tapped her body where it bulged... seemingly to test the "jiggle."

"I'm going to punish her," the spirit thing told the two girls. "Once I get her with even a small amount of ropes she won't be able to resist following orders." The Sprite looked Astalia directly in her eyes. "The more you cooperate, the easier your punishment is going to be."

Astalia gave the Sprite the barest hint of a nod. She was scared now. What her secretary was going through looked unpleasant and terribly humiliating but bearable (well, maybe not, depending on what was going on with the girl's breasts). Her mouth was dry.

"I'm not going to tell you anything," she croaked.

"I don't expect you to," said the Sprite conversationally. "I do want us to have a bit of chat, but I'm not interested in extracting information from you."

That made it worse, Astalia thought. She knew her secretary's eyes were on her. The girl was probably thrilled to see her mistress being mistreated! The young brat would pay for that later!

"Spread your legs," said the rabbit. She had a length of bright pink rope. One of her guards gave her ankle a bit of a kick and Astalia spread her legs apart. The bulge of her belly prevented her from having a clear view of her sex, but the rabbit-thing stepped in close and begin tying the rope around her waist and threading several lengths of it through her lips.

The pink rope felt unexpectedly soft and while not slick, it didn't bristle or seem to burn going around. The rabbit's tie was, however, touching her clitoris and she didn't like the feel of that.

The Sprite patted her hip. "Good. There we are. Hands on your head, Naughty," the Sprite ordered.

Astalia felt a flash of annoyance at being referred to as if 'Naughty' was her name. However, she moved her hands quickly to her head.

The bunny's face, while still Hare-like, managed to smile... or smirk. "Hold that position while I get ready." To the guards, "Tickle Naughty, just a little to let her predicament sink in--then a good spanking. I shouldn't take too long."

Tickle!? Fresta was very ticklish. Astalia wasn't as vulnerable to it--but still, exposed like this! That would be horrible.

It was worse than that. The whip-girl, Sanji, got a wicked grin and, moving her hand in circles to heighten the tension, she moved in and then stroked and dug in to Astaila's helpless ribs! She let out a shriek of uncontrolled laughter and the bitch, encouraged by her reaction, dug in even more!

No-No-No--behind her knees! No--please! It was suddenly unbearable! Oh, she couldn't breathe! OH PLEASE!! The blasted bitch tickled her belly! Astalia squirmed! "Please mistress! I'm going to PEE," she moaned.

The bandit girl let up, Astalia was panting, trying to recover her dress. Fresta's eyes were HUGE. The bandit-bitch again flexed her fingers menacingly. and hovered them over Astalia's bare torso. Astalia was sobbing deeply now--the horrible grin on the bandit-girl's face was everything Astalia had fought to avoid. Being reduced to helpless pleading--oh how she enjoyed that in Fresta--was unendurable!

This girl must have no idea how awful this was for her!! Oh, it was cruelty beyond measure!! The girl's hands darted in and again scrabbled in light tickles up her torso!

Astalia had no defences. She couldn't even turn this way or that to try to lessen the surfaces addressed.

"Oh, Mistress!!" she plead, "I'll suck your cunt--please--please--just stop! I'll lick your--AHAHAHA--AHAHAHA--ANUS!! MISTRESS!!"

The girl gave her another break, and she begged, tearily, to be spanked!

Sanji and the other girl obliged her, alternating smacks to her bottom with glee.

"Oh, she jiggles!" POW!! "Wiggle for us, girl!" And laughter!

The rope "panty" wasn't biting into her--but the pink robe against her clit gave each stroke an unsettling sensation if she clenched her muscles.

It was a minute or so into the punishment that she realized, to her horror, she was unable... unwilling... to move her hands or body to protect herself, no matter how much she desperately had to!