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The Darkest of Depths (CausalVelociraptor x Rusty of Shackleford)

CasualVelociraptor

Ravenclaw
Supporter
Joined
Sep 7, 2019
Location
Jurassic Park
Saturday, September 4th​, 1886

The merfolk city-state of
Sanctuary Trench, 30 Miles Off & 1 Mile Under the West Coast of Sura

“I’m telling you, this rumor is preposterous, Sarama,” Karundar huffed as they wandered the marble halls of the city that played gracious host to them on the way to their hotel. It wasn’t because of the city’s design, however…he’d always dreamed of being an architect and admired how merfolk were able to create such beautiful and strong fortresses out of coral and rock. This one had stood strong since breaking away from the Kingdom of Olseka in 1880. (Meanwhile, the Kingdom's capital, Olseka, had succumbed to the ugly, brutalist trend of using soulless dampfsteel and glass from the Empire when it expanded in…the 1870s, he wanted to say. How far they’d fallen from their 5000-year golden Age of Oceans, which had ended 2000 years before the idea of Caledoria was even a sperm in that rat bastard Henry’s balls.) Then, as was his want, he pushed his oily hair back up and over his forehead.

This made the Surai woman roll her eyes. That hairstyle didn’t look bad on him, not like the cocky boys in the Chenkarat port of her youth, but she didn’t like that he’d imitated the stylings of men who pretended to be rich without any money, and she didn’t know why keeping up appearances mattered when he would just get dirt, sweat and Imperial pig blood on it anyway. But at least she could help him shower it off…and often did.

That was just one of many points they argued about often, even after bringing Lamandara Sabanis into the fold of their strike unit at the outbreak of fighting in 1884, and their romantic relationship shortly thereafter, but only after she'd expressed interest. Where had gone the poor, but honest 20-year-old Bamban farmer she’d sold whale skin fertilizer to in 1876 when she was just a 19-year-old waif, who’d plowed her like his fields of Zadrian death peppers, who made her laugh when his eyes watered from his own crop? She wondered some days. Perhaps the task of standing up to Caledoria’s armies had drained even their strength. Or perhaps it was the colossal effort of protecting that naïve girl they’d plucked from the streets and molding her into a weapon, as much as they adored her.

“I’m telling you,” she insisted in her thick, trilling accent, ever the pessimist when it came to military strategy, of which she’d seen the rebels possess extraordinarily little other than Blow up all the things, “I have reliable sources confirming this. The Kraken is dead, and that was the city’s only reliable defense against the Imperial Navy apart from its walls. Mark my words…they only need to drop depth charges on us for a few days and this place becomes our tomb. We have to prepare the whales.”

Whales, believed by some ancient animistic religions to be the source of all magic in Emada, and once a source of plentiful food, fuel, milk and clothing for most off the coast, had the ability to generate oxygen bubbles from multiple blowholes on their body that they could use to protect any person resting in them. This had been invaluable for their escape from the surface in July to continue the guerrilla war from beneath the ocean by sabotaging Imperial shipping, and as Sarama alluded to would be key to evacuating civilians if the Empire did come within striking distance. And yet, the Caledorians churned up these remarkable creatures wholesale in their monstrous whaling trawlers for their industry and gave Surabamba the scraps. Sarama knew better than anyone, as she’d joined the Rebellion with her boyfriend in 1884, when her father couldn’t afford to compete with the big boys and then was conveniently disappeared when he sued.

“Finally, something we agree on. However, the Empire is claiming some greenhorn private named Alice Guthrie tricked it into eating a Goliath, and then blew its whale oil tanks up. It seems like Imperial propaganda, because how does that make any sense?” Karundar asked, knowing better than to not bring logic into their heated discussion. “We cannot assume the worst just yet, love.”

Besides, he’d heard even darker rumors of a shadow organization within the Restored Twin Kingdom (the official name of the rebellion) that was spreading its tendrils outside of the traditional bounds of war called the Haath. Short for Jadwan Badshahon ka Haath…the Hand of the Twin King. Perhaps they were still accepting applications? But Sarama didn’t need to know just yet, he decided. His words, however, did soften Sarama’s brow in that way he managed to do, which made her sigh and take his big, calloused hand.

“Assumption or not,” she continued, “we haven’t heard from any semblance of a command on land since we left, so whether those brutes kill us or ignore us, our homeland has likely fallen. Even if the Kraken is alive, our best option is to complete Lamandara's training and sneak her to the Summer Palace as soon as possible.” This was the capital of the Imperial Province of Surabamba and the summer home right now of Empress of Caledoria, Scientist Princess, and illegitimate Queen of Sura and Bamba Emily Caldwell. It was also the indulgent nexus of the beastly forces that compelled Caledoria to place a third of the world beneath its boot, in her estimation.

“I think we can still fight on in cells all over the world, even if this city falls,” Karundar declared. “I don’t care how many cities we must burn, or how many Caledorian throats I must slit; I made an oath to die on my feet, fighting for my people, no matter where that may be. But I agree that Ms. Sabanis is our best option for, if not making the Empire leave us alone for good, then at least warning them that they will get into more trouble if they continue to brutalize Sura or Bamba.”

“We shall see about that, my dear…” Sarama said.

“Let me do the talking, hun,” Karundar grinned and squeezed her ass once they ascended the coral staircase to their room, where Lamandara resided.

“Sure thing, hun,” Sarama purred and did the same, making him jump.

Upon opening the thick oak door, Karundar gasped at Lamandara in her traditional whole body lapitnan wrap, but without the chatigharb, a traditional Bamban piece of unified undergarment that protected her breasts (chat) and entrance to her womb (gharb), meaning that he could see her nipples through the silk fabric, and the outline of her pussy lips. He’d been savoring this day since they’d taken her under their wing, and since she’d turned 18 yesterday, soon the moment of her ripening would be at hand.

“So, Lami…my love,” he said, then tilted her chin up and leaned down to kiss her. “You have done well with your training in assassination, stealthy movement, parkour, sword fighting, gun fighting, and the strategic use of throwable potions. You have also taken good notes during our demonstrations”- by which he meant the practice of compelling Lamandara to watch them have sex for research purposes, which made Sarama feel on display a lot of the time- "and you have much charm and seductive capability. Now, however, comes the real test. How well can you, a girl who has never lain with anyone before this day, lick and suck my fiancee, Sarama Ujjdowi…”

“Today, Karundar Ujjdowi,” Sarama said impatiently.

“You get the idea. Today we take your virginity in turn. Why don’t you go first, darling?”

“It’s not quite as easy as all that. Not between women,” Sarama huffed. She didn’t like the idea of Karundar watching, said it would make Lamandara nervous. But Karundar had declared he had more confidence in their new protégé, and Sarama knew that the freedom of all peoples under the Imperial thumb depended on him being right, so she’d caved.

“Just pretend this big gabaqoof”- the Bamban word for “dense one,” usually just meant as “doofus” in company- “isn’t here right now. Lie back, my love, and I will help you become a woman. Only then will I guide you on the tour of my gheaiba”- center of sexuality, a similar word to gharb, but more than that.

For men it was called sheshishna. And their penis was also called sheshishna. That explained everything about men to Sarama. But no matter…for now, she just took the smaller woman into her arms and kissed her lover passionately.
 
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Sanctuary was...different. Much different than Surabamba. It almost seemed magical, impossible. An entire city built under the waves, isolated from the surface, yet just as open to outsiders as any other city. But most of all, it was...peaceful. No dirty streets or worries of being attacked. That's what Lamandara enjoyed most. She'd spent most of her life just barely surviving, fighting tooth and nail like the many other orphans left in the wake of the Empire's invasion of Surabamba. Her life had no meaning, no direction. Until Sarama and Karundar came along. Where others saw a half breed, the daughter of one of the very men who was grinding their homeland to dust, they saw just a girl that was alone. Lamandara never knew her father, though he did his best to look out for the girl and her mother, even warning them of the invasion beforehand so they could leave, It was a noble attempt, but ultimately fruitless. Lamandara's mother died regardless, taken by a cholera epidemic spread after the poverty and suffering in the wake of the war. Amongst all the hate and anger, Lami had found compassion and love.

The girl adored her mentors. They taught her everything. How to walk silently, how to take out an opponent quietly. And today...they would teach her how to please a target. It was no secret between the three Lami didn't just like Sarama and Karundar. She loved them. She thought of them often, if you understand. Even though the girl preferred her own sex, and frankly was not fond of men in general, Kuru was different. He was kinder, softer, not like the handsy pigs she'd been acquainted with in the past. He was like a god, and Sarama was his goddess. Lami had dreamed of this moment for so long. And she was prepared. Well...as prepared as an 18 year old virgin about to be pleasured by two people could be, she supposed. It didn't help her adoration made her nervous she would disappoint them. That her inexperience would make the whole experience a drag, despite the girl's excitement and enthusiasm.

Lami hummed a gentle tune as she sat before the vanity in her room, gently running her fingers gracefully through her long, wavy dark hair. She quickly opened her eyes and pivoted when she heard the door open behind her, her heart jumping at the sight of Sarama and Kuru. It was time. She stood up, nervously fidgeting around as her curves were in full display. She was a pretty girl, with soft curves and nicely rounded breasts. Despite this, the woman suddenly felt shy, covering herself as much as she could. Her heart fluttered at Karundar saying her name, and it only got worse when he kissed her. She had gotten much better at it, though with the situation it was noticeably a bit shy. Her nipples visibly hardened under her thin nightwear, and she already felt a heat building in her core. She silently listened to her male mentor speak, nodding and blushing slightly, especially at the mention of her...notes. She had many, many of said notes, some of which were in fact on Lamandara's vanity as they spoke.

The girl knew one day she would receive her final test. But it always felt so...distant. Like a fantasy. But with Kuru's words, it became clear that tonight, here, under the dark waves, she would have her final test. Lami was silent for a time, blinking in disbelief before she finally gathered herself. "Are you sure, Karundar? Do you think I'm ready?" She'd taken so many notes. She knew exactly how to please men and women. Where to touch, what spots were most sensitive. But they were just that, notes. She had never actually lain with another, much less her two idols. What if she messed up, embarrassed herself? Her mind was racing with anxiety.

But as always, Sarama made sure to comfort the girl. Lami had made it clear she preferred women to men, so she was grateful that she could be eased into this. She nodded at her mentor's sound advice, smiling softly as she whispered, "Yes, Sarama. Thank you for this." And with that, she leaned into her lover and mentor, wrapping her arms around the older woman as tightly as she could. Her mind exploded into firework, her hands grasping at every curve and inch of her lover's body, years of desire and affection igniting in a flurry of passion and lust.

Finally, the girl pulled away, panting and glossy eyed. She fell back onto the nearby bed, remembering her training to be as enticing as possible. She spread her legs to reveal the flower between them, running her gentle fingers across her body as she locked eyes with Sarama to mutter in a quiet, submissive manner, "Please...make me a woman. I've wanted this for so long..." She hadn't even been touched in her most prized areas, and yet the girl was already practically dripping from arousal, her heart pounding in her ears as he ample chest rose and fall with her labored breaths. She then turned to Kuru, giving as much of a sultry wink as the girl could muster, in he hopes of impressing him as much as possible. That was all the girl wanted. She wanted to make the two most important people in her life, her mentors, her lovers, proud. Freeing her people meant nothing if she couldn't enjoy that freedom in the arms of Karundar and Sarama.
 
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Getting to touch her delicate lover in ways that would remain their secret in order to bring out the woman that Sarama knew Lamandara could be should have been an elating experience for Sarama. She certainly was giving Lami more of an intimate, emotionally supported deflowering than the one she agreed to, and then regretted, with a boy who didn't even care to remember her name when he was done. And exploring the prempratibrit (mirrored lover, the term for homosexual) side of herself, disguised as research for Lami's benefit and only prompted by the discovery of critical intelligence that Empress Caldwell was a sexual deviant of the same variety as Lami (despite giving birth to a son, Henry), was also rather...more interesting than she thought, especially once she began to look forward to this day and felt genuine- love for the girl they'd found on the street. However, she couldn't entirely make this about consummating their love for one another, or making Lami understand (entirely) how to navigate the many Worlds of Desire.

For there was another, grimmer role that Lami had to learn how to play today too. How to be the black widow, the spinner of soft webs that would, without hesitation, also kill once the prey had willingly let itself in. This was, for sure, not Sarama's preferred way to end the war. Perhaps if Elizabeth knew that there were others with her proclivities among the people, some kind of settlement could be negotiated...

That was a pipe dream. This was the reality.

And the reality was that Lamandara was a vision that would make anyone who laid eye upon her aroused beyond all comprehension, and willing to do anything for a taste of her. Her divine petals laid out before Sarama boiled a want within her to pin the girl's legs apart without a care and feast upon the tender, eager folds of her puffy labia, seasoned with Lami's screams. However, Sarama managed to compose herself and give her gentle (for her) critique of her mentee.

"See how my clothes are remaining on?" she asked, still holding her naked little girl to her chest. "I feel more pity for you than lust," she lied. "You have gotten the general idea for so long, but as I explained, that's what you're supposed to present yourself to her as before you're in the bedroom. If you've gotten to this point, she already wants to make you her woman. So in this part, you have to encourage her to see what that would look like. Remember, don't just plead, PLEAD! Throw in the vulgarities we discussed. Make it your own."

Perhaps, then, Lami would think of the night she overheard Sara and Kumu fucking and shouting an epic poem's worth of obscenities at each other, and borrow liberally from Sara's wanton groans and screams while making it still sound very innocent and playful.
 
Lami sat up a hair, looking a bit sad at the criticism. But that was no way for her to act. She nodded, laying back down and presenting every inch of her body, rolling and caressing every curve she had. "Please, My Lady...fuck me. Make me cum like the dirty little scullery maid I am." It felt much more genuine than the times she'd practiced such vulgar things, mostly because now this was real. She was legitimately begging for a beautiful, powerful woman to take her virginity and ravish the bed she lay upon, all the while a man watched with glee.

Soon enough, the girl was on all fours, crawling across the bed to be closer to Sarama, his dainty hands gently running down the older woman's clothes. "Allow me to undress you, My Lady. You wouldn't want to get a whore's juices all over those clothes of yours. Unless, you want to, of course." She bit her lip seductively, her fingers playing with whatever held up her mentor's clothes, her breaths deep and husky, and her eyes flooding with lust and desire. She says slowly remembering all that training and putting it to good luck. Soon enough, she would be ready to seduce the Empress and fulfill her mission. But now, this was her vacation.

Lamandara had fantasized about this for so long. She still remembers the nights she'd listen to her closest companions make love in the next room, moaning and screaming obscenities into the night, only for the girl to join them as she rubbed herself to completion. If only Sarama and Kuru had been there to see it. But that was in the past. Now, her dreams were coming true. She trailed a few fingers between her legs, letting out a sultry moan from the pleasure as she whispered, "I'm so wet...if only My Lady would ravish me...I promise to be good..." An alluring grin spread across the younger girls beautiful features, goading Sarama to abandon all common decency and just take the girl here and now, lessons be damned.
 
Sarama was stunned by the girl’s mating display. Her mouth left hanging open, she contemplated the inventiveness in the student’s honeyed words, even as she executed perfectly.

“Feel how wet I am?” Sarama asked, spreading her legs and pointing to the damp spot on her panties. “That means you already have me. Perhaps you’ll be able to tell more easily when you look at the most powerful woman in the world and make her putty in your hands, for she may have finer garments than mine.

“For now, yes. You may undress me,” Sari started to pant, doing her best to seem professional but coming apart while doing so. “But don’t just remove my clothes. Kiss, lick, bite, suck any new skin you reveal in this manner. Act innocent and unsure, putting on a naive girl facade that will be supported by your cover career in housekeeping. Or purr sensually, being her exotic lover that will take her to new heights, if only she surrenders. Or, perhaps, nip a little like a wolf, plotting to devour her.”

With every utterance of the word her, Sarama was less sure who she was referring to.

But Karu certainly didn’t have that problem. He was focused on the both of them, and so was his exposed penis that he wanted to breed both of his women with. It wasn’t that he didn’t consider Lami like a daughter…he just didn’t care. War or no, he would fill the both of them with his divine essence, and they would flower with his progeny. They had no say in the matter, and neither did he. It was the destiny that the piece of the Ballad of Creation he had listened to commanded.

For if he didn’t donate his life force, the world was doomed.

For now, though, he was content to watch and work up his blessed, holy water inside his balls, waiting for the perfect moment to roil Lamandara’s innocence in a way Sarama could never dream. All while she begged for her daddy to ravish her. And then show Sarama’s whore womb where the true power in their relationship lay.
 
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