MASTER’S TOUCH

“Blend and Balance Pain and Pleasure deep within you, ’til you will not want me any other way.” -Tool — Ænima

Miranda couldn’t tell if they still followed, but she ran anyway. Her heart nearly burst when they crossed the path on her nightly jog. They melded neatly into the shadows, and she hadn’t seen them until she could almost touch them.

Then one of them stared at her, fear motivated her to run again, faster than she ever had.

She dashed off the beaten trail and through the woods; trying to get as far away from those… things… as possible. A branch caught her top and tore at the polyester fabric.

The ground became uneven, a log jutted out, caught one of her running shoes and flung her forward. She braced for the impact, but water enveloped her instead, giving Miranda a surreal moment of floating where she should be moving.

As she pushed up to get fresh air, a firm hand pressed her sternum to the bed of pebbles, her breath came out in bubbles as she tried to scream.

Suddenly as she was below the surface, she was out of it again, gasping and choking on the fresh-water in her lungs. Something had hauled her out with one arm, something she cared to never see again.

The cloaked figure deposited her to the ground, where she sputtered and tried to stand.

“This one?” a whispery voice asked behind her.

Mud caked Miranda’s body, elbows and knees worse where she landed on the dry soil. The thing standing above her only watched as she fumbled until she was upright. As she turned to run, another one blocked her way, the concealing hoods fluttered in a gust of air she didn’t feel.

She about-faced, directly into a third; they had her surrounded in all directions. Finality struck her, then, as fatigue caught up with her, Miranda began to quiver.

“Yes,” one of them answered.

The largest one had yet to speak as it stared at her beneath the hood, Miranda couldn’t see any eyes, but could feel its gaze upon her, roving over her drenched form.

Her throat closed as she felt the one behind her latch its hands over her shoulders, securing her in place with nails that threatened to pierce her skin. “This one is afraid.”

The largest one took a step forward, bringing its hand to her chin and forcing it up to meet its eye. It said nothing, but she felt a press on her mind, like heavy painkillers entering her bloodstream. The fear dropped to a dull roar as its hand wrapped slowly around the back of her neck and pulled forward; so close to the void within the hood, she could almost taste the shadows. “Do not be frightened,” its voice was different than the others, deeper, something that might escape the bowels of a great cavern. “humans are not quite so material as you are led to believe, it will be over soon.”

Miranda could not understand, but its presence was anesthetic even as she was paralyzed.

The one behind her tightened its grip on her shoulders, sharp nails digging into her flesh with ease and running through her as one might run fingers through hair. She felt the bite, the tear of her flesh under its hands, but did nothing to stop it.

The last one, likely the smallest, stood between her and the big one, tilting her chin skyward and using a single nail to slice away her running clothes. Her breasts released from the sports bra as it broke. The thing continued its path down, until it reached the band of her shorts and yanked them down, revealing her dark curls. Miranda felt the creature marvel as it dropped low, dragging its claws over her narrow stomach, latching onto her hips and bringing its hooded face close.

Similarly, the one behind her wrapped its arms beneath hers and toyed with her newly freed breasts, every touch of its claws raking lines through her skin. She moaned involuntarily, reaching for the biggest one as the others played with her.

A cold firmness touched her rear and she gasped, something solid pushed into it and shoved through the tight hole, making her cry out at the intrusion. The thing in front simultaneously pressed its dark face into her sex, which split open for what she could only imagine was its tongue. But it was much too thick to be so, as it pressed deeply inside, threatening to tear her open.

Both thrust deeply, mining, it seemed, for her core. She gasped, trying to keep her toes on the ground as the third watched on, not participating, only keeping her gaze. “P-please.” Miranda appealed, breathless as the one behind shoved even further inside, seeming to grow longer within. “Please, stop.” A tear trickled down her cheek as she begged them. The one in front ravaging her with a feverish intent, the tongue thickening still.

The big one brought a hand to her face once more, pressing what could be its thumb onto her tongue and pressing. Its claw piercing her and she tasted her own blood. Before she could react, the dark face descended upon hers, rolling an acrid, smoky process into the mix of saliva and blood. This close to the dark thing, she couldn’t breathe without tasting sulfur.

The assault on her rear increased, traveling deeper into her colon, where the tip seemed to be navigating independently of the feverish creature behind her. It clenched into her breasts, causing dew drops of blood to rise from the pristine skin. The one in front made a purring sound as it breached the end of her tunnel, further than any man had gone.

They would skewer her by the end, Miranda was certain. But she could do nothing but comply, as the largest ate up the blood as fast as it flowed from her tongue, eventually searching deeper to find what it was looking for.

In a moment of clarity, she reached out to yank away the hood, but it was as if it was made of smoke, and fled at her touch. The big one made a sound like a chuckle as it explored the recesses of her throat, bent on suffocating her.

The one behind snatched her arm and twisted it painfully, but Miranda had grown uncertain if she felt pain or pleasure anymore. She could no longer tell why she was in these dark woods, surrounded by shadows that explored her every crevice.

As her eyelids began to droop, the big one pulled away, and she could swear there was a glint of light behind the shadows. She reached out with the last strand of energy and appealed to the big one with an open palm as the others pushed deeply inside of her, the one behind spraying an acrid substance deep into her gut.

The big one in front took her hand with his and leaned forward, razor sharp barbs split into her palm, causing the blood to rush forward. It pulled in all of her, allowing her to fall away from her ruined body into a liberating blackness.

xxxxx

The woman’s body slumped to the ground as the minor ones finished. They looked to their Master with expectation, who only gave them an inscrutable nod.

“I have not yet penetrated.” The youngest complained, still new to the dark trade.

The Master strode away from the bickering peons, and looked out across the park, there were many souls to gather still, and plenty of time to do so before the fiery orb forced them back to their own dimension. Little Miranda was just the start of the evening, an easy catch, but admirable. It was only the beginning of her torment, however, as he had plans for her soul. The Master intended to play with her long after her body returned to the earth.

“It is okay,” the Master heard the other one say. “we will find you another.”

xxxxx

A needling pain was the first sensation, in the dimness that surrounded her. Miranda’s skin felt wrong somehow, as if it had tightened unnaturally over her bones. On the first inhale, she choked on the rancid air, curling up tighter against the toxic environment. There was sand beneath her, but it bit like broken shards of glass, abrading her cheek and thigh.

The worst part was she could remember everything, more clearly than when it happened the first time around. Miranda’s whole body was violated, entered more intimately than she’d ever known. They had taken her as they willed, and stole every last ounce of fight.

It was the big one that had given her reprieve, if she could call this such; more like a perpetual hell that she found herself naked and vulnerable in.

“Little one.” The rumbling voice found her, like thunder rolling over the hills.

Miranda levered up and looked around wild-eyed, afraid to speak, not knowing if her wretched vocal chords could utter a sound.

“Do not speak,” the voice manifested into a smoking darkness above her, “you have fallen like many before you, do you remember your death?” It hunched over her with curiosity, she could see no features, only the utter darkness that seemed to be its substance.

Had she died? Miranda was still there, still feeling every molestation on her skin.

“Yes, you are passed.” it said with a finality, “And you are mine, now.”

She shook her head, mewling a small ‘no’ as her eyes grew wide. It reached for her anyway, closing her arm in a writhing vice and pulling her up into itself. Glass shards crunched beneath her feet, sending pain spearing through her ankles.

“You were beautiful when we found you, and when you writhed in pain beneath my minions. Your suffering is admirable, little one. I could not let you escape when we can have… so… much fun together.”

Miranda felt the brush of darkness against her neck as she tried to pull away. She shook her head and screwed her eyes shut, refusing to accept any of it.

“Best to accept it now,” it said, “for this is quite real.” It drew a line over her heart, “And so is the pain I will inflict upon you, this magnificent, glorious sensation that you will come to know as the sole relief from this barren existence. I am your Master, and you will call me such.”

She tried to shake her head again, but the thing caught her jaw in a vice and closed its mouth over hers. Miranda squirmed, but could not find purchase as the tongue assaulted her again, this time barbed and cutting into her gums and tongue, then further, deeper, into her throat. She was helplessly latched to it, unable to pull away, lest it remove her jaw.

After a time, its tongue receded back into the blackness, “What is my name?”

Miranda stayed silent behind pursed lips as her mouth healed, the pain fading as if it had never been, as if its violation had not occurred.

The thing watched her and waited for an answer, when it did not get one, it laughed. “Defiant already, little one? You will scream my name soon enough, and I will delight in the breaking of your spirit. How tender you are…” Darkness rolled over her as if, not one, but many hands grasped at her, molested and cut into her flesh, “You will beg me to skewer you when I am done. But even that will not relieve you from my care.” The many shadow hands pulled back.

Pressed against this thing, she could do nothing but whimper, rubbing a fist to her eye to stem the tears. “Please,” she whispered hoarsely, “I just want to go home.”

“You are home.” Its tongue curled over the word ‘home’ as if it were a curse. Its steely vice dragged her through the darkness, shards beneath her feet slicing deep.

Flailing against the thing did no good, the shadowy arms seemed much stronger than she ever was, even in life. Miranda cried out as her knees dropped to the hellish sand, but it continued dragging her forward through the dim space.

Both wrists were caught in its grip as she was hoisted high in the air above its head. Something like a living band wrapped around her wrists and held her suspended as the thing turned away from her, Miranda’s knees and ankles dripping blackish blood to the dark sand. Waiting for the thing to turn around again was worse, not knowing what creative torture it might inflict upon her.

Before it turned back to face her, more tendrils from above and behind sought her out, touching her bare skin and nosing to find an orifice. “No!” she did not want to be penetrated again. One caught her mouth open and dove in, gentler than the thing’s tongue, but curious, searching. She could not spit out the throbbing tendril as it slid down her throat and into her gut.

“Begone with you,” the dark creature had whipped around, the thing inside her throat slithered out with all the speed of a striking snake and disappeared into the darkness. Something cold and heavy was shoved into her mouth, “Do not release this.” It closed her jaw over the bitter object, “You will learn Obedience first, and then you will cry for only me.”

Miranda clamped her teeth shut, scared that worse might befall her if she did not listen. Her knees shook in the open space, but she could at least be grateful she did not feel the bite of glass anymore.

The thing in front of her disrobed, and for the first time, she realized it indeed had a form. Standing to its full height, it had charred skin laced with sharp designs branded along its spiked shoulders. Its knees were bowed forward, bending backwards at the ankle and ended at sharp, thick hooves. Three sets of long horns curled behind its head, and as it turned around, red eyes glowed and a jagged row of teeth gleamed from a ravaged muzzle. It had a tail, brushing the ground, covered in the same fur that circled its face. A long, blackened member swung between its knees, threatening to harden.

Miranda took a breath as her heart sank, almost dropping the bit in her mouth.

The thing brought its clawed hand to her cheek, “Have you so soon forgotten the lesson?”

She curled away from it in utter terror, cold tears trailed down her cheeks, Miranda shook her head, trying to comprehend what could not be understood.

It gripped her breast thoughtfully, teasing the nub with a claw that sliced through her very first layer, but no deeper, “This might have been over quickly if you had not defied me,” it considered, “but that is why I chose you, this evening, and not the other dozen. Were you satisfied, then? When my minions had their way with your flesh?”

Miranda nodded violently, anything to keep this creature from progressing.

The hand fell away from her body, “Already impatient for another lesson, I see. Do you know what I do to those who lie to me?” the thing chuckled, “Choose your answers carefully or you will find out the next time. I will ask again: were you satisfied?”

She could not keep eye contact and dropped her head down, not knowing what the creature might consider a lie. Miranda did not feel her own murder was satisfying in any way, but knew deep down, it had satiated something she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit.

“That is a better answer, little one. I only ask for the truth.” The pad of its clawed hand touched her cheek gently, and she cringed from its softness, for this creature was anything but soft. Nothing would be concealed from this thing, it was inside of her mind, sifting through thoughts like one perused a newspaper. “Focus on one lesson at a time, and you will not suffer needlessly.”

The bit in her mouth grew heavy, expanding with the accumulation of saliva. If she did not spit it out now, it would grow too large for her to remove.

“Steady yourself, don’t fight it.” The creature loomed over her, taller, even, than before. “Trust your Master. Fear is for the weak, and I do not see that you are weak, little one.”

Miranda might have said anything to get free, if she could speak.

“That is bargaining,” the creature explained. “Bargains are lies wrapped in niceties, would you risk my wrath to plead for a life I already own?” A twisted grin stretched over its matted muzzle as it reached down and grabbed her pelvic bone, two clawed fingers entering her, “These many parts of you belong to me, to do with what I wish. That was the agreement between me and your god.” The creature whispered in her ear, a smoky plume washed over her senses as the thing in her mouth expanded further. “It is almost ready, prepare yourself, your Obedience will be tested to its limits.”

Her jaw was thrust open by the object, it creaked against her skull and stretched her mouth wide, leaving it a gaping, muted hole. The fingers that had been inside of her moved to her mouth and wiped a smear of mucus onto her tongue.

“Do you see how you desire me? Even in your denial.” The creature teased, grabbing around her neck and shoulders, pulling her down to her knees onto the glass shards. The living rope adhered to his tug and released only enough to lower her to the creature’s groin. The dark member in her face pulsed, growing thicker and longer as she watched in horror. “Hold firm, little dove.”

Without ceremony, the barbed member thrust into her mouth, filling her throat and bending down into her esophagus. It cut off her airway as the monstrous creature pushed deeper, a smile crested over its ruined face as its fiery eyes watched her reaction. The lack of breath caught up with her as another tear fell, she was already dead, certainly, but she still needed air?

The barbs sliced through her mouth and gums, lubricating its thickness. Miranda sobbed through a ruined throat, a foul aftertaste evidenced that she was not the only victim of its passion. She clung to denial, wishing it were all a bad dream, and she would wake covered in sweat. But she did not wake, nor did the thrusting skewer release her.

Soon, the tension in her muscles released. This creature would continue its assault until it was satisfied, or she had been fucked to pieces. Either way, it did her no good to waste her energy fighting. As the thoughts arose, its speed accelerated. It shoved her head so far into its crotch that she felt its furred stomach on her forehead.

Acid sprayed down her esophagus as the member shuddered, pulsing harder and faster. The thing did not groan as a person would; surely, this was only to torment her.

It shoved her off of the pulsing skewer to the ground and she writhed against the burn in her stomach. “Very good,” it hunched over her with an elbow on one knee, its member still spitting black sputum that hit the ground with a hiss. “Now, what is my name?”

It pulled the bit from her mouth as she cradled her stomach, Miranda didn’t know when the living rope had released her. “Master,” she hissed between gritted teeth, “Master! Have mercy on me…”

A clawed finger touched the creature’s cheek as it smiled, “‘Mercy’ is not a word I am familiar with. But I do see you understand my first lesson. Have you had enough for one day?”

The acid burned through her stomach, taking more and more of her focus. Miranda nodded, burying her cheek in the sharp sand to relieve the slow burn in her stomach. The creature said no more as it lifted her in its arms, letting her writhe against the poison without punishment and carried her away.

When it released her, she fell into a tumble of soft things that she could no longer appreciate, fighting a scream as her insides liquefied and reformed, only to liquefy again. A sharp pain brought her back momentarily, a searing on her breast.

“This is my mark, you will carry it with you so that none may question who your Master is.” With that, her Master’s touch was gone, and she was left to a vast sea of suffering, alone.

xxxxx

It was a miracle when she woke without the searing burn in her gut. Miranda opened her eyes, slowly, carefully, as if she could pretend to still be asleep if that thing were near. When she did, a scream escaped her; the soft things she’d lay in, gently rousing, was a mound of severed heads. As she tried to fumble away from them, those beneath her kept slipping, she accidentally inserted her fingers into one’s mouth, and felt its tongue writhe at the sensation, moving to suck on them. It was a woman’s head, a pixie cut blonde with sad eyes.

Miranda fell backwards, was this what the creature intended for her? To be another head in a pile? She dropped off the mound and onto the sharp sand, whimpering when her rear connected.

“Would you like to be part of my collection?” the Master’s voice resounded from behind her. She stood abruptly, backing away from the grotesque pile and the creature that watched impassively. “Kneel, little one.” Blood coated its front, as if it had bathed in it.

Miranda’s heart hammered in her chest as she felt the weight of its words.

“I will not ask again.” Its spiked eyebrow rose. On trembling knees, she knelt gently on the shards, trying to ease them down so it didn’t hurt as badly. The Master moved forward with lightning speed and grabbed the nape of her neck, shoving her face firmly into the ground. Glass cut her face and lips, getting into her eyes as she bucked against its grip. “This is how you kneel to your Master. Revel in the pain, and delight in my good nature, lest it changes.”

It let go when she stopped fighting, she left her gored face planted to the floor, frightened of the Master and its whim.

“Now, stand before me.” It commanded.

Miranda did so, her bruised and bloodied face mending. A sliver of glass worked its way from her eye, and she moved to usher it out.

Its clawed hand stopped her, “You do as I say, no more.” Nails ran up her arms, slicing the flesh to ribbons as he moved to her shoulder, “What fun will we have tonight?”

“I don’t know, Master.” Her voice trembled, gasping when its claws went into her muscle.

“Indeed, you don’t,” it made a face that Miranda thought might have stemmed from pleasure, “Did you like my seed inside of you? Changing you?”

She shook her head, scared he might retaliate for disagreeing.

The creature chuckled, “You remember the second lesson, I see. I do not require that you please me with your answers, only to be honest. Your tail is beginning to show.” It reached around and yanked on the end of her spine, where a stubby tail was indeed growing.

Miranda reddened at the gentle tug, never knowing the sensation of a tail before. With some effort, she could wiggle the short appendage within the Master’s grip.

“I will have much fun when it grows longer,” the creature whispered in her ear, nearly enclosing her in its body, pressing her to its chest, “they make good handles.”

The glass beneath her feet were the least of her worries, as the Master’s body was so close, she could taste sulfur, pressed against the noxious blood made her heady. “Yes, Master.” She agreed, and closed her eyes, as if she could imagine herself elsewhere, alive again, perhaps, where her body and mind were not abused.

Its wide mouth closed over her shoulder and bit down, hard. She screamed and clutched at its arms. When the Master released, it spoke, “Stay with me, little one. I believe I’ve figured out what to do with you.” A nail circled the flesh of her shoulder, gouging and drawing blood. It rotated her in its arms, facing her away and pointing, “Have you seen the rack? I will get you two acquainted.” She was urged forward, smeared in the Master’s last meal, whimpering.

Through the gloom, a looming metal spire rose into the darkness above, panning out wide at the bottom like a morbid bed frame, instead of springs, she saw spikes.

“Get on,” the Master whispered through its snout, “and you will know how much I cherish you.”

A short metal rod stuck out where she imagined her crotch to be sat, but it was so high up, she would not be able to accommodate its request. The thought sent another shiver down her spine. “I’m sorry, Master.” Miranda almost cried, “I cannot possibly-” she choked.

“Then I will assist.” For a moment she was suspended in its grasp, merely a doll in huge, twisted hands that enjoyed her agony. Her face and chest were pressed into the spikes, the rod resting painfully beneath her pelvis. More living cords erupted from the darkness to lash her arms and legs wide. Something slithered down her throat again, nestling deep inside of her with a writhing joy. “It will remain there so you remember your first lesson: Obedience.” Her Master explained, pacing behind her, “This next lesson is in Tolerance, for this world requires much of it.”

A loud crack made her wince.

“See that you do not move, lest I miss my mark.” Another crack, but this time, it split her from shoulder to ass. Her entire body recoiled into the spikes, skewering herself further. “The amount of pain you will feel is contingent upon your efforts to stay still. The bite of my whip will only sear your flesh, it is your choice to fall upon my spikes.”

The thing in her gut reminded her it was there, rolling and readjusting as it pumped its flesh through her mouth. The next crack split her the opposite direction, the horizontal wound weeping. Each slash of pain sending her every cell into shock. One of her orbits was caught near a spike, the lash caused her head to jolt forward and pierce the flesh close to the eyeball.

“Tolerance, little one.” The Master reminded, “You will need Tolerance to graduate from the rack.” It chuckled, drawing back for another blow and striking across her neck. The skin burst and wept at the attack, causing the spikes to embed themselves further.

What she wouldn’t give for the tenderness of the Master’s touch that she’d shirked the previous evening. She knew better now, as the whip descended again across her ass. This time, though, Miranda did her best to steady herself, holding her muscles taut.

“That was quick,” The Master considered, “Let’s try it again, harder.”

The whip came down, harder as it promised. She bit down on the thing in her mouth, causing it to rear and pull out slightly. The sting of the whip was lessened by the fact that she’d inflicted even a little pain on the curious tendril.

Miranda counted ten more lashes before the Master paused. Its voice did not resound through the blackness as her skin mended. She took a shallow breath, avoiding being skewered further.

Thick pads pressed against her back, trailing over the sharp lines of suffering that continued to heal beneath its touch. A moan escaped her involuntarily, she did not want to find pleasure in the Master’s hands, but she did nonetheless. It descended over her rump, closing in on the tight hole beneath her newly formed tail. A claw buried itself in her star, threatening to slice at any moment, then the finger intruded, thick, but none so much as the first minion who’d violated her.

“You will take more than this,” the other hand pressed down on her shoulder so the finger inside of her could lever up, further, deeper. A second matched it, then a third. Her hole stretched unnaturally as a fourth knuckle spread her wide, shoving to its thumb. Then even the thumb protruded, Miranda would have screamed if her mouth had not been otherwise occupied.

As she had already accommodated so much of the hand, her sphincter tightened in surprise when it continued to invade, lubricated by her own blood.

“I may decide to crawl inside of you,” the Master whispered, “you are so very soft.” It pushed past the wrist, claws opening the secondary sphincter to make way for the rest of the arm.

Miranda knew that the Master was tearing her in two, the skin could stretch no further, but it shoved despite the fact. The arm took a turn into her colon, forcing the organ to its will.

Her ignored womanhood wept against the metal rod, jealous, perhaps, of its abused neighbor. She shook her head, seeing stars where there weren’t any.

“Gently, my pet.” her tormentor murmured, “The more you fight, the more painful it will be.”

She wanted to tell the creature that pushing any further would be impossible, she could not imagine any more inside of her.

“We should test that theory,” the Master screwed its arm further inside and flexed. Her eyes bulged at the pressure as she bit the thing in her mouth, drawing rancid blood. This time, the tendril yanked away with a great rush, uncoiling itself from her stomach and receding into the shadows. Miranda gasped and screamed all the air from her lungs.

Pinned like this, against a hundred spikes and the Master’s arm deep inside of her, she did all she could not to scream out again, in case he decided to repeat the lesson.

“My elbow is within you now, was it all that hard?”

She took a shuddering breath and nodded, anything else would be insincere.

Before the Master began pulling its arm back out, it pumped into her and she could swear she was being penetrated by a tree trunk, the spike near her eye causing her to weep tears of blood. Her desiccated anus made a sucking sound as the arm pulled back, and thrust deeply one last time.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed tighter. Blood trickled from the wounds, “The next lesson may be less painful.” The hot breath was at her neck now, as the thick arm slowly levered out of her ruined rectum. “For what it’s worth, I still find you admirable, by human standards.” The last of the fingers dropped out, Miranda did not want to see what it had done to her.

The Master lifted her off the rack like a broken doll, carrying her over its shoulder and planting a firm smack over her rear. With one of her arms draped over a long horn, she hadn’t the strength to fight, even the spikes of its shoulders dug into her flesh, Miranda couldn’t muster a reaction.

“Tolerance is what you are beginning to feel. You have done well, little one, and have survived the initial fires of my passion. It is time you were given reprieve, but only a moment of it.” The Master kept walking through the gloom until a low stone building appeared. It opened the door with its free hand, depositing her into a cool silken bed. Miranda expected something to curl out from the covers to violate her, for the Master to leap upon her and tear into her with its cock.

But nothing happened.

Instead, the creature turned away from her limp form, its tail making a slow rotation above the ground. Her eyes were half-lidded and unseeing, she could not even muster up the good sense to stand or flee. Surely the Master would find her, he had branded her as his own. This creature, this monster, she considered, had a man’s desire and she could no longer pretend he was not so very real and masculine. She saw it as he hunched over something, the strong sinews of his back strained beneath the scars. Had he been human once?

The torture of anticipation was worse than his claws and teeth. What did this ‘reprieve’ entail? Miranda thought half-heartedly as by some miracle, her star pursed to its original shape. She took a heavy arm and reached back to feel both the recovered opening and the tail he’d spoke of. It was slender, nubby and strange to her touch, the new appendage moved on its own.

The Master stood, “Are you ready, my dove?” he held out a gnarled hand for her to take. There were invisible weights upon her arms as she reached lamely for him, knowing that whatever terrible plan he had for her orifices would be nothing compared to his anger if she disobeyed. He hoisted her into a sitting position and guided her into a back room, “Stay while I prepare our bath.”

Miranda leaned against the wall on her forehead, relieved there was no glass to shred her feet, or that the walls were not made of spikes or tendrils.

The Master turned an archaic faucet, and dark water ran freely into a huge basin. She wondered, offhandedly, if the water might dissolve her skin. Perhaps it would carry all of her down the drain, so she would no longer have to suffer, it might be nice to be liquid, for a change.

“It will not be that easy,” The Master looked back at her, hearing her thoughts, “You still consider it’s possible to escape me.”

She closed her eyes, “Yes, Master.”

He turned around and finished his task without responding. When the dark, oily water reached the top of the basin, the flow turned off. Miranda still had her eyes closed when his hands found her, guiding her to the water’s edge. “It is only water, and we are both in need of soap.” The Master’s massive form lowered into the basin, spilling dark water over the rim. He took hold of her and pulled her in with, the water sloshed over her tortured skin without burn or pain; she watched the rainbow sheen glisten on the surface. A bar of soap was placed in her hand, “You will bathe me, and then I will bathe you.”

Miranda’s heart caught in her throat as she gripped the slippery bar. She would become much more acquainted with his skin and fur than she was comfortable with, even after he’d done more that that to her, only shortly before wearing her rectum as a gauntlet.

“Begin. And do remember I can hear your thoughts.” The Master leaned back and closed his fiery eyes, awaiting the sudsy treatment.

Her hands shook violently as she levered herself around in the bath to face him, trying her hardest to control the thoughts clanging around in her brain. She could begin at his chest, avoiding his gaze as she worked. Blood was still caked over the light fur of his pectoral, she scrubbed there first, keeping her mind off the fact that his member floated just beneath her womanhood.

Some of his spikes caught the suds, and she had to splash water over his hard chest to remove it, almost losing the soap in the process. Beneath the gore, she found his dense flesh and rinsed the bubbles away, moving to his shoulders and arms. They were thick with muscle, spikes jutted periodically from the flesh. In some places, there was no fur at all, like the insides of his arms or near the clavicles.

Miranda pulled his right arm into the water, and washed the remnants of her away. His hand twitched when she sudsed the pad, but did not grab or cut into her. Doing the same to the other hand, she also rid the nails of caked blood and grime. She rinsed both of his arms off and worked her way down, into the water, giving his soaked legs a once-over before reaching blindly for his cock.

On contact, the barbs bit her and blood leaked from her flesh into the dark water. Miranda mustered up the courage to grab hold again and clean it. It pulsed in her hand, and she looked up at him, the Master’s eyes were open and he watched her with amusement. “You will not forget the rest of it?”

She shook her head, reaching down further and finding the sack, using the soap to wash the innocuous scrotum, scrubbing even further to his barbed rear-end and tail.

A large hand thread through her hair as she worked, “Rinse the bar, finish with my face, and I will do you.” Miranda did as he bid, levering up as he leaned back against the basin once more, waiting.

The soap, and her hands, trailed up over his furred neck beneath the mane. She scrubbed it clean and felt a muted rumble in his throat, ignoring it and moving to his face. Glad his eyes were closed, she began at his muzzle, where underneath all the caked gore, there were little lines of whiskers protruding just beneath his wide, black nose. The suds were scrubbed over the snout and cheekbones. She reached the crease of his forehead and an arm caught her before she moved to his mane.

“That is enough,” The Master leaned forward and motor boated the water to get the soap off. When he reared back, he plucked the soap from her hand and grabbed her around the neck, “It is your turn.” He lifted her from the water with one arm and scoured her front with expertise, not missing an inch.

The soap trailed down her stomach and around to her backside. The suds went red with all the caught gore from her Master. He flipped her over, making her grab the rim as he cleaned her thighs and calves. Water cascaded over her and she felt a pause in his efforts, wondering what he could be considering. She didn’t have to guess for long, as his tongue trailed over her lower lips expertly before she was shoved back into the water.

“Now your face,” He gripped her hair in one hand and scrubbed until her eyes burned with soap, nothing at all like the tortures he’d invented for her earlier. “Rinse off,” he commanded.

Miranda hurried to oblige, splashing the dark fluid over her pale skin, now that it was not caked in sand and blood. The Master stood from the bath, sloshing the water about violently. A dripping hand waved her out, and she took it and stepped out with him.

“Kneel,”

There was no sand to bury her face in, but she made the motion he showed her, bowing forward so her head pressed to the floor painfully.

The pressure of his hooves pushed to the back of her head, “Do not become comfortable with gentleness, little one. You have been obedient since I have taught you these lessons, but there are still more to come. Do not think for a moment that I mean to care for you as my equal, for you certainly are not.” The Master left his hoof there, pausing, considering perhaps, “That being said…” the hoof was released, “I will do something for you tonight, as you have been so well behaved. Stand up.”

Miranda did so, wondering what he could possibly do for her.

The air dried their skin before they entered the main room of the building, reminding her how barren the atmosphere really was, wherever they were.

“Lay down, and close your eyes.” The Master nudged her forward. She crawled up onto the cool sheets and lay on her back, glancing at his hungry face before closing her eyes. A tremble rose in her core as she waited for the pain to come.

Weight pressed down around her as the Master knelt over her prone form. A claw tilted her chin up, soft whiskers and fur brushed her throat. Miranda wondered if he had tenderized her, cleaned her, only to consume her. The sharp teeth in his muzzle were certainly capable of it.

“Do you want me to eat you?” a rumbling chuckle reverberated.

“No, Master.” She whispered, and was assaulted by his tongue in her mouth and throat. Her back arched as barbs laced over her own tongue, drawing blood which the Master sampled.

He pulled out, tracing a line down her cheek with a nail, “But you taste so good, you are certain?” he mused.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Very well, I will find other ways to make you squirm.” A padded hand rested on her stomach, kneading the tender skin, then it traveled lower, cupping her womanhood. “Before my minions, it had been long since a human touched you here, hadn’t it?”

Miranda opened her eyes to look at her Master, nodding.

“I’ve not yet had the pleasure of penetrating you so, I have waited because it is there you got the most relief from my youngest acolyte. You want me to release you.” It was not a question for her to answer, merely a statement of fact. Her vulva throbbed in response anyway. “I am beginning to know you, little one, as you will learn to know me, in all my various moods. Close your eyes.” The Master’s back arched, thrusting the newly cleaned member to the tip of her lips, letting them cup his head.

She wanted to reciprocate, fill herself with him, but did not. He might become angry at her for participating when he did not command her to. The Master was tormenting her, the fulfillment to her basest need within reach, but she could not take it.

“This lesson,” he purred, “is Patience. It will be an easy one for you, as you already comprehend it well. This will merely be reinforcement.” Teeth descended on her nipple, the sharp serration teasing it into a pearl. The other was flicked between two claws, a trail of warmth trickled over the skin to pool between her breast.

The Master’s cock stroked from her rear to the tip of her woman hood, flicking down to strike it gently, torturing the throbbing clit. He leaned forward and tongued the pool of blood, continuing up the side of her neck and finding an earlobe to nibble on. Hot breath roared in her ear as her Master enjoyed her reactions, the subtle shaking of her core.

Miranda wanted him, “Please, Master.” She moaned, “Take me.” The words came out all their own; after everything he had done to her, she realized he would make her scream for him, as he’d promised she would do.

“It must come from someplace pure,” The Master growled, “you can scream day and night, but I will know when it is authentic. Only then will I give you what you sought out in life, what you were looking for in those dark woods. You will find it in me alone.”

“I know what I want, Master. Please!” she whimpered.

The pressure of his member disappeared, “It is not enough that you want it. Patience, little one.” The weight of him came off the bed, Miranda’s eyes flung open, but he was already gone.

xxxxx

Miranda remained curled up in the sheets long after her Master had left, tentative about braving the harsh environment outside the little building. Her wounds had since healed and there was no mark but the one left on her breast: a wicked, pronged blister.

The absence of even his cruelest touch was a suffering in itself, and soon she could do nothing but leave this empty haven. When she opened the door, gnarled gargoyles were already waiting.

“It’s her!” One of them shouted.

Another swung the door open and dragged her out, it had mutilated features and seemed to have a beak of sorts, “The master’s new pet,” It sneered, raking her over the biting sand. “Hold her still,” it screwed her jaw open with a rough hand and sat upon her face, forcing its caustic member into her mouth. The foul thing did not pump, but leaned over her and grabbed her labia. A piercing pain shot through her womanhood as it pressed something sharp through each side, working up the crease until the lips were secured together tightly. Finishing with a slap.

“The master did not say-” The creature holding her legs began.

“Shut up,” the second levered up and shoved back down, forcing his cock into her throat, “He gets what He wants all the time, I deserve a little, too.”

“Yes… but you know what He will do…” the first warned, “He only said to sew her up,”

Miranda squirmed beneath the acrid penis, happy to roll down a hill of glass sand before tasting it a moment longer.

“Go to hell.” The second one chimed, “I’ll only-”

She was freed from the awful thing, turning to her side and gagging. The first creature scrambled away as a shadow cast over her.

“You DARE defy me?” her Master’s voice boomed.

On some level, Miranda knew he did not speak to her; she looked up to see him choking the struggling minion, who clawed at his arms for freedom.

Unlike the other wounds, her crotch still burned, when she looked down, it was sewn tightly with a black thread, closed to the possibility of getting any relief.

The thing choked and tried to speak.

“You knew your orders, peon. And you still searched out the pleasure of my new pet. I hope it was worth it…” he squeezed tighter, until its eyeballs burst from its head. Miranda did not want to, but she felt some gratification when her Master broke the creature’s spine; the awful taste of it still lingered.

The body dropped next to her with a thud.

“And you.” He barked at the other gargoyle.

The thing fell prone to the ground, “Yes, Master?”

“Gather your comrade, bring him to the pit. Your loyalty is noted.” The Master looked down at her, then, “My minion has soiled you when he should not have,” he rumbled, “if ever I was merciful, it is now. Return to the washroom and clean yourself. Then we will commence with the lessons.”

Miranda did not need to be told twice, she scrambled in to the low building.

As she moved to close the door, the Master’s hand caught it. “Be quick about it.” His hand released and the door shut. She dashed to the tub and ran the water as she’d seen him do, cupping the dark liquid and clearing her face of the noxious smell and taste.

When the last remnant of the creature’s stink was gone, she looked down at her crotch again and let out a sob. Touching the thin string that bound her womanhood, Miranda cringed at the pain. It would not heal until the rude stitches were gone.

She mustered the courage to peer out the front door, scared she might again be jumped. This time, there was nothing except the dim, foggy sky and harsh desert. “Master,” she whispered, staying close to the building, the only landmark.

A wind whistled over the ground, sending her follicles on end. It revealed, up ahead, the monumental structure that spired into the sky; the one where he’d reached far inside of her. She trudged through the sand, clutching herself close against the wind, moving quickly in case his other minions decided to disobey as well.

With her head down, she nearly ran into her Master. His claws caught her, barely drawing blood, “Pay attention, little one. Do not wander in this place, lest you become lost.”

Miranda looked up into his fiery gaze, burying her fears. “I don’t think that you will let me, Master.” She shivered involuntarily.

“There are things besides me in this place, you would not want to be found by them. They eat little doves for breakfast,” his smile exposed teeth, whiskers tilting slightly, “I am a far better choice than the other Masters here.” He dropped a loop over her neck, “Follow me.”

She followed, he drew her forward with the rope, but did not tug as she was Obedient. They passed the spire on the left and continued forward, until the skin of her feet left a bloody trail behind them. It was not so bad, nothing, really, compared to his semen in her stomach, or his recent exploration of her insides. “You had them sew me shut,” she whispered. “why, Master?”

“Patience is not learned in an hour. When the time comes, and you have reached your limit, you will remove them yourself, but not before.” He did not look at her, or yank the cord.

“How will I know?”

“You will know.” Was all he gave her, the darkness around them grew more pungent, more complete. It nearly swallowed them entirely; she walked so close to her Master that her arm brushed against his fur.

When she could see nothing, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Even her breath was silent in this place, as if the pitch ate at every quality but touch. The hand pressed her down until she sat on a cold surface that sucked the very heat from her bones. Her Master sat behind her and fold his legs and hooves in front, clasping her forehead and pressing her back against his chest.

Looking up, she was surprised to see something impossibly darker than everything else. A perfect sphere roiling and flaring shadows.

Time was lost, then, as she gazed upon the anti-sun with awe.

The Master brought her here to show her this magnificent thing; it made her wonder if he did truly cherish her, despite all he’d done. The darkness permeated her every pore, and she soaked it in with reverence, holding out her hands to catch its wisps before they dissipated.

Miranda’s exhaustion abated, and fatigue washed away; all her needs were fulfilled.

Except one.

xxxxx

Miranda learned quickly why her Master had fashioned a rope around her neck. When it was time to leave, she could not. He dragged her, kicking and screaming, through the sand away from the darkness.

“That is enough, little one.” He reasoned until she was in the misty desert once more, “The Darkness will take every part of you in time, do not be so hasty.”

She sat on the glass, irreverent of its bite with her head in her hands. If only she could soak in more of it, let it steal away with her skin and breath.

“It is beautiful, though.” The Master considered, trailing a claw over her back, “I understand why you fight me, it fixates even the strongest souls. In all other circumstances, I would have you thrown into the Pit by your tail.”

Dark shadows clung to her skin, its dissipation caused her to tear up at the loss. She clutched her knees tightly, shaking her Master’s voice from her mind.

“Stand,” he commanded.

On some level, she understood the order, standing to face him with her head bowed.

“If you are to join me in the human world, you will listen.” The Master said harshly, “You are my prize from the Dark Trade, and will help me collect more souls as repayment for my kindness. The others go as tribute to the Darkness, so we may continue to exist. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” She said grudgingly, jealous of the others, who had shared the same, suffering death as she. “What must I do?”

“First, you will master your lessons. These are imperative for you to resurface in the human world, a rogue creature like you might cause unwanted attention from agents of light, and it could end us all.” The Master touched her cheek, “You do not want to disappoint me,”

“No, Master.” She leaned into his knuckles, alighting a slow burn in her center. As the lingering shadows fell from her, desire returned seven-fold.

“Good,” He pulled the hand away and tugged on her rope, “Let us continue your tutelage.”

xxxxx

From that point on, the Master’s lessons became rougher, beyond anything she could have imagined. He had machines that bent her to the point of breaking, leaving her in a state of extreme agony for days at a time. He had hooks that suspended her from the flesh on her back, while his tendrils had their way with her orifices.

On this day, he had decided to splice her open from shoulders to pelvis, slipping his claws between the meat of her ribs and bones. Tendrils penetrated her cavity as the Master finished, rinsing his hands in a basin provided by one of his many minions.

She was learning not to react, to stay quiet as his claws found their way into the deepest parts of her she was only learning existed.

At one point the Master had freed her heart from the lungs, holding it to her, “I own this, and all that you are.” It still beat steadily in his hand, even though he’d severed the cords, “And I will keep it, for you do not need it in this cruel place. It will only cause you pain.” Miranda felt a hollowness as her cavity healed around the missing organ; somehow, she could still function without it.

The absence of her heart did not deter the Master’s cruelty, but the lessons became easier. Perhaps she was less charged to fight them, as the heart no longer conflicted with the searing agony.

“Little one, are you still with me?” The Master asked over her, working into the tissue of her back like a skilled surgeon, his only goal to induce enough pain to make her scream.

“Yes, Master.” Her eyes were closed, she no longer winced, “I am only considering the heart.”

“You see why it was removed?”

Miranda nodded as he found her spinal cord, touching it with the tip of his claw. Her legs and tail blossomed with pain, as if they had been doused in hot oil. She gritted her teeth to steady herself.

“Tolerance has grown within you. Perhaps this lesson was unnecessary.” The Master let go and allowed the flesh to heal.

The pain she suffered now was the lack of his touch. She hoped he prepared something else for her, so he could continue this assault on her innermost self.

“We are done for today.” The words made her weak. “It is not my goal to make you crave this cruelty, only to withstand it.” As the skin of her back closed up, he waved away the bindings; in their absence she was deposited onto the sharp ground.

“I want you to touch me, Master.” She touched a hoof and looked up at him. “I want you to take me!” Miranda reached for his member and tried to taste it, willing to allow all his acid to liquefy her.

A firm backhand knocked her away and headlong into the glasslike shards, a small relief in the absence of him. She stayed where she’d landed, “You are a favorite of mine, little one. Do not test me.” He loomed over her, and she began to wish the Master had consumed her on that bed, beyond a sea of pain, “Your last lesson is Diligence. Clean yourself up, I have something special prepared.”

Miranda had since learned the art of navigating the Master’s domain, searching in the aimless sands for various structures and spires in the mist, though the dark sun was concealed from her. She went to the place that was free of pain, and wanted to kick sand into the building so it would detract from her frustrated womanhood. The bath did not satiate the throbbing emptiness in her chest or pelvis.

Her tail grew longer and thicker by the day, but the Master hadn’t used it yet. Miranda’s teeth were changing, growing slightly jagged and sharp, enough for her to notice when she bit her lip. She hurried the bath so that she could be by the Master’s side, draining the deep tub and reemerging into the bitter dry air.

Miranda found him at the spire, would he test her against the spikes again? She wouldn’t mind so long as it was by his hand.

“Come here, little one.” He beckoned in that deep voice.

She came to her Master, waiting obediently for his next command.

“We have a guest, tonight. One of my prizes from your world.” He waved a hand to the rack, where, indeed, a young woman was strung up, facing them. Her eyes were wild and scared, staring at them with a shallow breath. “She is to see the Darkness tonight, but we must break her first.”

Miranda assessed the young woman, she might have been her twin, save a different face and long, red hair. Her own hair was golden in life, but had turned to an ashy white in this world.

“Let me go!” the woman screamed, “I didn’t do anything wrong!” the woman’s blue eyes closed as she shook her head, gasping as she inadvertently pressed too hard against the spikes.

“What do you ask of me?”

A whip handle was placed in her hand, “It is your turn to break something gentle.”

Gripping the leather switch, she passed it from her left to right hand. “Yes, Master.” She bowed her head, and turned to the victim.

The woman might have seen a person still, but Miranda knew the last shred of humanity had gone with her heart. “Help me,” the woman whispered, “I don’t want to die.”

“What is your name?” she asked, knowing the Master stood behind, grading her efforts; she would not disappoint him.

“Emily,” she choked back tears.

“You will be glad to know, Emily, that you are already dead. It is not so bad.” Miranda drew back the whip, “and you will see the Darkness, I envy you.” the whip’s tip lashed over Emily’s right breast, splitting it open over the areola. A blood curdling scream erupted from the woman as she bucked into the spikes, pleading with eyes wide.

Many tendrils waited at the edges of the shadows, seeming to look at Miranda for instruction.

“Tell them what to do,” her Master whispered, taking her free hand, “they await your signal.” he moved their hands together, showing her a rudimentary command. One of the tendrils turned to Emily and slithered up her leg, with the final thrust of the Master and her hands, it buried itself inside her victim, causing her to moan. The thing pulsed inside of her gleefully.

Miranda marveled at the newfound power and commanded three more to stopper the woman’s screams, filling her mouth entirely. Emily’s eyes bulged at her, pleading with her. “I have no heart to care for you, Emily,” she stated, “I resent your existence, as it detracts from my own suffering. But it won’t be quick. You will feel the fire of my indignation.”

She remembered the Master’s arm inside of her, and wanted to gift the feeling over to their transient toy. With another wave, ten more tendrils followed the first up her legs and into her. Emily’s concave belly stretched with the load, writhing just beneath the surface.

The whip came down on soft, speckled flesh, and with each strike, Emily bucked and strained, tears streaked her heart-shaped face.

“You tire of the whip, take this.” The Master gave her a knife, closing her hand around it.

Miranda looked up at him and saw only compassion in his furred face, “Yes, Master.” She approached the tormented soul, teasing the blade into her own nailbed to feel some pleasure.

Without a word, she found the blade at Emily’s throat and tore down, slicing through the flesh in a jagged line. The ribcage arched forward as if to allow her better access, as if the woman begged for it.

She obliged, shredding her front before it had a chance to heal, losing herself in the joy of mutilation. As she gripped the knife, something bit into the skin of her hand; she looked down and saw that her nails had warped into claws not unlike the masters. Miranda dropped the knife and turned her hands both ways, pleased with they way they’d grown in. They would make her work easier.

The tendrils throbbed and thrust into Emily, so that she was distracted by the pleasure they caused. Miranda climbed the spikes until one foot was planted on the metal bar, sharing it with Emily’s untouched vulva. She gripped a thigh and closed her new nails around it, fingers sliding into the flesh easily. A knee twitched and the woman’s throat tried to work around the tendrils, likely trying to scream.

Miranda willed the tendrils from Emily’s mouth, who choked and sputtered blood. “Please…” her ruined throat whispered, so like her when she first arrived. She placed a hand on her sternum and shoved the woman against the spikes to drive them into her.

“You will have solace soon,” she whispered back, averting her eyes from the glorious suffering, envious as well as bitterly pleased.

Emily’s energy began to deplete, she struggled less with each rake of her claws, the tendrils still coiling and uncoiling inside her abdomen. When her head hung low, Miranda knew they were at the end. “What do I do, Master?” she turned to him.

“Have my pets release her, then we will take her to the Darkness.” He rumbled. “You did well, I enjoyed the pleasure you found in her flesh.”

She suppressed a smile and waved the tendrils away. Emily’s body slumped and crashed to the sand, hardly moving, eyes vacant. The Master grabbed her thick red locks and dragged her along the ground. Miranda followed in his footsteps as the air grew cold and dark around them.

He placed a hand against her back to lead her forward. “Do not look up as we conduct our business, you know the pull and do not want to be lost to it.”

Even through the permeating void, she could still see the outline of Emily’s form, eyes closed to the world. Surely, the biting sand was a relief from her claws and whip.

The shadowy rays of darkness washed over her skin, and she knew they had arrived. At her Master’s command she kept her eyes low as he dragged the woman to a ring of cold stone. She was laid out, face up, with her hair splayed out like a halo around her. Miranda noticed there were others doing the same to many different souls, male and female alike.

She watched Emily’s eyes open slowly, seeing the dark sun with growing awe.

The Master grabbed her neck and made her hunker with him as their tithe reached for the blackness as she had done. It soaked into her beautiful flesh, filling it with darkness that seemed to draw out the light from Emily, gathering it into an orb above her face. Then the orb left the body, ascending into the great Darkness she could not look at.

“After a time, you will not be drawn to it.” Her Master whispered, “For the light dissolves from us, but your quarry was fresh, untethered to suffering as you and I are. It was a good offering.” He nodded, shielding her eyes from the darkness.

What was once Emily dissolved into the midnight stone, every ounce of her consumed by the Darkness. It might have happened to her, when he first brought her to the spot.

“Our task is done for the night. You grasped well the last lesson.” They strode away from the dark orb together, side-by-side.

Miranda nodded, but considered the wretched strands that held her womanhood in a vice. She touched the stitches, accidentally nicking one with a nail. It snapped easily. Testing the sharpness of them against the rest, they unzipped as effortlessly as the first.

Pulling back her fingers, she noticed how wet she’d become. She looked up at her Master with a speck of fear, perhaps she wasn’t supposed to release herself yet.

He chuckled, drawing her wet hand to his mouth and tasted her, taking with it a layer of skin. She didn’t mind in the least, reveling in his touch. “Patience was always your strongest virtue, are you ready to lose yourself beneath me?”

Miranda bit her lip, wondering if he meant to finally have her. “Yes, Master.” Her voice almost a whisper. She threw herself to the sand, forcing her head down, womanhood throbbing, “Take me, I’m yours!” she pleaded. If he refused, she’d be glad to be crushed under his hoof.

“Very well. Go to our bed and await my return.”

Her skin tingled at the sound of ‘our‘, as if they could share something intimately, more than just suffering and pain. Standing on weak knees, she watched her Master walk into the mist. Miranda turned on her heel towards the low building, insides shaking with anticipation.

Readjusting the bedding, she waited for her Master, cross-legged on the bed. Her tail did a slow swipe over the covers. Perhaps he meant for her to learn Patience again, as she waited Obediently for a long while. When she began to doubt he would come, she stood and stepped outside, curling her toes into the sand and rocking on her heels.

Maybe she’d done something wrong, surely, she would have known by now; his claws should have been the punishment, not this aching absence.

Miranda stormed back into the place without pain and paced, the end of her tail twitching. “Master, don’t leave me alone.” She whispered to herself. “I’ve done all that you asked.” The fire in her crotch was roaring, and she considered trying to please herself. As her hand touched the swollen clit, she stopped, knowing it would only be the Master’s touch that could release it.

The veil of Patience was wearing thin as passion mounted inside of her, like a volcano near its explosive apex. She was becoming less a creature, and more a pure emotion that could only be quenched by one thing: Him.

“Master!” she cried, curling into a ball and holding her face. The claws sliced through her cheeks as she gripped the skin, trying to lessen her suffering.

Still, he did not come to her.

She went to the door where he’d last touched it, stroking the grain where his nails had gouged. Miranda could look for him, but then she would have disobeyed his orders to await him.

A truth burbled up from her core, “Master, I need you!” she screamed, weeping tears of blood. She wiped her face with a trembling hand.

There was a click against the wooden floorboard, “Was it all that difficult?” her Master asked.

Miranda spun around, eyes wide at his approach, “I thought you’d never come,” she sobbed with relief, prostrating herself in front of him, tail high.

“I was always watching,” he purred, leaning over her, “and you have done all that I asked, I only needed you to surrender everything to me.” He ran his claws through her ashen hair and picked her up, she did not struggle in his grasp, trailing her tongue over sharp teeth.

A hand closed around her throat and shoved her against the plain wall, her toes could not touch the ground. The Master’s body pressed against hers as he ran his claws through the flesh of her legs and stomach. She reached up and stroked the small whiskers, wanting him to consume her.

His mouth descended on hers, hot and welcoming. The razor teeth caught her lip and drew blood, Miranda moaned at the attention; his erection grew long between her legs.

The tongue slid into her mouth and throat, she opened to him, allowing it to explore whatever took the Master’s fancy. A small whimper escaped, wanting him to skewer her atop his member.

He pulled his mouth away, “Be careful what you ask, little one.”

Passion clouded her vision, “I have been waiting for so long,” she knew this was the worst sort of torture, having his flesh so close to hers and not being able to relieve herself. “take me as you will.”

The Master considered something for a moment, and then tossed her on the bed, “Once I begin, I will not stop until every orifice of you is seeded. You will burn for a long time,” he stroked the barbed member, almost like a question.

“Please, Master! I don’t care!” she begged, “I only want you.”

The Master was atop her, then, his furred face so close to hers, “Precious little dove,” he stroked her hair, “I will give you what you crave, to whom do you belong?”

“You, Master.” Miranda touched his chest, “I belong to you.”

“Correct, as it will be for all time.” His fiery gaze grew hungry, turning her head to the side and biting into her neck, black blood oozed from the wound as he tongued it. Her vulva throbbed, shuddering to catch his member. His own sex was hard against her leg, shredding the skin as it touched the lips once more, “Muster your Tolerance, little one, and you will truly appreciate my passion.”

Miranda nodded, unable to control a grin.

The tip nosed in to her opening, and then thrust forward with all the Master’s strength. Her breath was stolen as the barbs raked her insides, latching so that she couldn’t pull away until he’d blasted his seed. His claws caught onto the bone of her pelvis, through the meat and tendons as he thrust further inside of her. The member cleared her cervix effortlessly, so that he was deep within her womanhood. The vulva shuddered again, loosing its clear mucus for the Master’s use.

His padded hand squeezed her breast, digging claws in and releasing her black blood. A scream caught in her throat, as she was ridden furiously. The speed of him rattled her brain, but she would not trade it for the world. Her Master hit the spot that had burned her up inside, soothing the hellish absence of him. If she could stay in this moment, forever, she might find true peace.

With her still skewered, the Master tossed her leg over, so he could better grip her hips as he thrust. It went even deeper, Miranda kneaded the bedding as he took hold of her tail so that his member found itself sheathed to the hilt. He grabbed her hair and pulled her back, so that her weight kept him inside and bit the back of her neck firmly, but not so as to crush her.

A clawed hand reached forward and toyed with her clit, pumping with the same rhythm as the member inside of her. She could do nothing but lean back against his solid chest as he cut and bit her freely, ploughing into her with determination.

“Are you ready?” his deep voice whispered.

“Always, Master!” she screamed, tears of joy wet her face.

He chuckled and bore into her, drawing her shoulders down so she was entirely upon him as his semen blasted into her uterus. The burning began on contact, sending her emotions in a tailspin. She’d gotten what she craved, and now it would consume her for days.

But the Master wasn’t done.

His hissing sputum hit the sheets and burned them as he found her star, branding the entryway with a slow consumption. The Master shoved unceremoniously into the second hole, raking barbs latched to the walls. He pushed her back onto the bed by her neck and arched over her, the second sphincter opening to him with ease.

Miranda couldn’t breathe, the caustic semen inside of her burning through her organ as he pummeled her colon. A hand caught her wrists and held her prone, sharp nails digging into the skin. Completely helpless beneath him, she felt an iota of pure bliss.

The Master bent a knee up so he could better lever into her, his long ankle latching around her thigh as she mewled beneath his thickness.

A laugh escaped her, clear and joyous at the relief.

She thought she felt him let out a rumbling chuckle as well, as his thrusts threatened to split her open. Miranda was happy if her holes gave him even a scrap of the pleasure that she felt. The burn was nothing at all in retrospect.

Sooner than the first time, he built his thrusts to a crescendo, depositing another load deep into her colon. She took it gleefully, cradling the burn with a smile.

The member softened and slipped from her gaping anus, her holes ruined but healing despite the acid. “One more, little one,” She heard the smile more than saw it, as he gathered her to his chest, “I think I have just enough left.” He rolled them over so she was atop him.

As her vulva and anus tried to heal, she was pushed down to the level of his cock. Her fluids glistened on the staff, and she knew he expected her to clean it off.

Miranda looked up to him before closing her mouth over the monstrous thing, letting the remnants of his sputum burn her tongue and cheeks. She sucked the fluids off, polishing the tender head and circling it before braving the spikes. Her Master assisted, pulling her head forward and thrusting against the back of her throat. It angled down into her, she tried to capture everything from the tip to hilt, tasting her own juices.

Her teeth grazed the stem, as she pulled back and thrust herself forward.

The gleam in her Master’s eye made her work harder to impale herself upon the spike, lacing the head in her mouth before closing over it again and again.

A hand caught her hair and shoved, cutting her cheeks and gums. For the first time, Miranda thought her Master might have lost a little resolve. His eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned, the moment before he came for the third time, she gleefully throttled herself.

This time, the acid poured down her throat in a rush, more than any of the others. She drank the black sputum down into her gullet, so she could feel his touch long after the member fell away.

Her focus turned inwards, towards the burning trifecta in her abdomen as she curled into it.

Something stroked her back, “Marvelous,” her Master still breathed, “who knew you had it in you?” she was gathered into his warm arms as she bit back a cry of pain.

The swirling suffering in her gut made her barely aware of the Master’s handling of her. She felt the sting of spikes against her head, but let it be as the vortex inside of her took all her focus.

“You have earned your place. Rest now, little one.”

She buried her face in his chest, unable to answer him in her agony.

xxxxx

Miranda awoke next to the Master, who looked as if he might have been sleeping. She was wrapped in his thick arm, curled against his side. Toying with a lock of his mane, she looked up to him and waited for instruction.

“No instructions, dove. Your training is complete, I cannot teach you any more than you have already mastered.” He stroked her white hair back, “In all the time I have broken souls, yours has been the readiest to receive my trainings.” The Master’s lips brushed against her forehead, “Life for you must have been particularly cruel.”

She looked up at him, drawing a blank at her life before this. “I wouldn’t know.”

“No,” her Master said thoughtfully, “the light in you is nearly gone, not even enough to satiate the Darkness; me… on the other hand.”

Miranda reached for his member, “I can help.” She wanted to be useful to him, afraid that if he had nothing left to teach her, he would lose interest.

“It is not like that,” he removed her hand, “I am not some flippant human, whose interest come and go at a whim. You will be seared by my passions for as long as our world exists.”

A smile crested her lips, “Truly?”

“Until the end,” he reached for her hand, planting a gentle kiss on her knuckles, “Until our sun burns out and we are seared by the light.”

She lay her head back on his chest, curling tighter against him and digging her claws in. The creature that was Miranda held firm to Him, glowing in the warmth of the Master’s touch.