Animal (Verse and Zoophilian)

[Verse]

This is for myself and Zoophilian. Enjoy the read.

The house he lived in was at the beginning of the forest and the edge of the city. Wooden for most part, speaking of heritage and money. He'd seen to that it was decorated accordingly, allowing porcelain, cabinets and other furniture to remain in their rightful places even generations after their purchase and installment. The hall wasn't so much welcoming as it was proper, staunch. Fully restored and well lit, with a few frames hosting contemporary ventures, but not warm despite its oaken, intimate century constellation. You would arrive, wipe your shoes, hang you coat and place your hat, damn it.

The entrance floor could seem soulless. So much old mixed with expensive new that it would be hard to find a common denominator other than symmetry and unison. If you'd done a round or two of wealthy homes, you'd see through the well filtered, sometimes unobstructed daylight hitting wooden details and chrome art to note it was all to impress rather than represent. As with other facades, this one gave a clue to the innards of its owner, its wearer. A big, grinning clue at the last wall from the main entrance.

Between twin windows, large and proud, lined with heavy curtains of a faded color, a sizable plate of polished, white ceramic hung from the wall. Underneath it stood a table a few shades murkier, often with refreshments of varying, minimalistic or traditional containers; cylindrical water pitchers with orange and cucumber slices afloat, expertly whittled bowls of dried cranberries or yellow raisins, carrot chips with thyme, and the like. But even to a dullard with no other grand home tours on his resume, the display of snacks would not be the focal point at the end of the greeting tier of this three story building. Instead it would be the wolf skeleton held onto the enamel surface of the ceramic arc. He, because monsters are usually of male gender, had been allowed to keep approximately half his calcium frame, even in death, as it was cut and adjusted to look like he was jumping out and to the right, frozen in a dynamic pose out of the milky surface which did not match the slightly yellowed nature of his bones. The teeth were cracked and broken, for whatever reason the artist could have justified it with.

The floor at the top of the stairs, found somewhere adjacent to the insistent hall, would host more of the same. And more of worse. Busts of things that were shot in the head, heads of things that were unmade by a center mass wounds - stuffed, the end of the skin, beginning of flesh dried around protruding bone. Spilling from the bone, where marrow should be, was gold, frozen in drip. Not for the wingless or headless birds, of course. If bones were hollow, they had silver instead. The immortal bodies were mingling with practical and pretty things. Real vanity, not the kind he'd payed for like downstairs. Many rooms, many menageries of concluded prey. He sat in his study, which showcased only the finer pieces of his art. A bull, leaping with golden rivers where legs and hooves should be. A wolverine perched in its curdled, yellow puddle. And then antlers, of course.

He wore glasses of a deep, disappearing green shade, framing eyes that were a lonely red. You could call it a vivid brown, if you were a liar. The ends of his jaw were sharply cut, as was the tip of his chin. Very few shadows in an otherwise smooth, soft face. Pressed black vest over a blue that wanted to be black as well. Purple, emaciated tie. Black crown of hair, fangs up on each side, long and thick without sheen, to underline his youth despite his obvious success. Sword of a body, spear of a body, either way his physical form, followed by the tailor, was a narrow weapon. He sat by a glass table, one dapper leg crossed over the other in the platinum stick chair. Four others placed around.

He thought.

While this process had been rather long, pieces had all fallen in to place faster than Edmon Naderson had hoped. The preparations proved to be somewhat tedious, but he'd found pleasure in the anticipation of it. In the end objects of investment - of lust or otherwise - are simply profit in wait, and there were things on the way that he deemed more than rewarding in themselves. How beautiful it had been to watch the genesis of her new view, her opened and reforged mind. More so, it had been good to coax her, to inject the seeds and nourish them by pouring poison in her ear. It was not a sin in the conventional way, not one that he carried alone, he would argue, since her mind had been inclined toward this -- persuasion already. His personal tastes were the catalyst of his ambition to cultivate hers, and here were the results.

Secretly and in plain sight - as all well hidden secrets are - a table of contraptions was placed along the wall to the side of his desk, which in turn was a pleasant distant, in this large room, from the glass table. Contraptions with pipes and funnels, and contraptions with blades and spikes. Sitting by one of the legs was a gaping animal, open from chin to rear, its insides of an artificial sheen. Latex. Parts of it methodically littering the floor around it. Again, if you cared to look. Edmond knew where people would set their eyes. He'd been concealing things without covering them all his life. The lighting was pleasantly radiating out from the warmly colored rug, and that's where most people would direct their attention.

She would be here soon, ready for the service he'd offered. It wasn't like she could back out now, the process had long since started. To be honest he might very well conclude it without her say so, but what is more satisfying than having the mouse drown itself because you told it there was cheese at the bottom of the brook? The person close to her, that had binded her with him, had seen a similar fate. It was a delicious story, really, one that he would have to recant during todays meeting, where she would become something else, and he would treat her accordingly. And all he'd payed to gain this pleasure was honey words and supposed support.

The doctor of many fields and Jack of many trades was here in his home today, to initiate a certain nightmare.

 

[Zoophilian]

She had lost everything, Or so she thought. Recent events in her life had brought her to doubt everything and crave a simpler existence without having to worry about anything, not even her next meal. It would be by strange occurrence that she would run into him. A strange email in the middle of the night of what she would call her darkest hour. He had been there for her, She claimed again and again how he saved her life, Kept her from going over that edge while all the same showing her a new world. Slowly she found herself being pulled down into a dark exciting new world all of which would meet its climax this evening.

Her name would be Katya. He had found her to be on the short side, standing at a meek 5ft Tall if she was lucky, Or wearing heels. Her flesh a soft sun kist bronze collar looking as if she had spent the better part of her life in the sun. In contrast to her ever so slightly glistening flesh she would have shoulder length hair, curled ever so slightly. Ginger colored locks. Her features gentle with freckles dotting her cheeks. Deep emerald hued eyes that many nights stared into the soft flicker of a candle as he slowly worked to convert her, Convince her that his needs were her own.

Over the weeks leading up to the night she had felt the sting of the whip, the taste of wet pvc latex and the smolder of bubbling wax into the wee hours of the morning. It made her feel alive, It made her.. Feel in ways she couldn't explain to herself or her friends. The past few weeks of her life would of been all a secret, A lewd game that made her giddy with the thought. He had promised her a new life, A life where she didn't have to ask for anything, her every need would be handled, How could she say no? To refuse such an offering after losing so much in the past few months would be to admit defeat.

It wouldn't be long now, She spoke softly to herself in the back of that cab looking out at his house. Her eyes closed in a brief moment of reflection as if trying to talk herself out of it. She would follow his instructions every step of the way, Arriving wearing only a pleated mini skirt that would come barely past her caramel colored thighs. A snug fitting shirt that hugged her ample breast tightly, allowing her pert nipples to be visible, Erect and straining against the sheer fabric. A dark pair of heels would eventually lead her from the backseat of the Taxi and to his front door, every step announced with a subtle click of those heels. Her hips swaying almost lewdly from side to side with every step as she would finally knock at his door.

She carried with her the only evidence that she ever existed, A small purse filled with her ID's and other such things that she happily would give up in exchanged for this dream of a life that waited for her beyond the door, She found herself trembling, Short of breath even as she felt flush with a wave of panic, Wondering if she was truly ready to trade away everything for a promise of a carefree existence. It would be to late to back out now, She watched as the Taxi pulled away, Taillights quickly fading into the tree line leaving her alone, Miles yet from the edge of the city.

 

[Verse]

Edmond remained, foot swaying lightly, suspended in the air. He stayed like this way for a moment, even when he heard the knocking on his door. Katya, who else. The echoes had long since died out in the arbal surfaces of his home when the figure stood, pulled his vest down and corrected the tie. Polished shoes on the well lit carpet took him out of the room without urgency, every stuffed body waiting faithfully for their master's return. She had been here before, she knew the size of the house would delay answering the door on days when he was without the staff. And today was too important to share with maids and service. Taking the stairs expertly, clicking expensive soles against every ledge in high frequency, he'd produced himself on the bottom floor without so much as an extra wrinkle on his attire. Out of habit he corrected his glasses as he turned the handle on the door.

"Katya." If the smile wasn't physically on place, it was implied in his spirit as he parted the door from one side of its frame. She was pretty as ever, evenly colored skin complimenting her locks. It was quite endearing, how small she was. In so many ways his towering form was the predator to her slight shape. Edmond held the large, carved panel open for her as he stepped aside. "Welcome." Calm voice, friendly. Much unlike when they played, when he lectured her. Yesterday had been their last lesson. It had been hard not mar her permanently when she so willingly subjected herself to any of his whims. Today had been more important all along. Red eyes in the tilted head glimmered as he thought of the low of her back, the bowl between the muscles on either side of her spine, filled with scorching wax, overflowing to trickled down her tail bone and swirl to drown her minuscule pucker on it way to flood the inside of her thighs.

The buds were greeting him through the taut shirt she'd chosen, a perfect mixture of promise and delivery all at the same time. While he did enjoy the skirt, barely keeping her sex a secret, he quite favored her heels more. Naderson did not have that particular fetish, but he enjoyed any article of clothing that rendered the wearer less capable of escaping. Heels were famous for that much, at least. Bladed eyebrows raised, showing her that he was pleased at her attire as he stepped to the side to let her in. The day was increasingly wonderful outside, and she fit well in the world; her vivid colors, her vibrant personality restored from the tragedy she'd felt not too long ago. He knew it would be so. What he had ruined he had also intended to restore. How else would he have built such absolute trust? That and rendering her speechless with carnal play, torturing her until she worshiped at his lap and ingested every word he spoke. "I hope the drive was fine."

She had seen the upper floor. During the first visit people only saw the lives that had been ended so that he could have material for his vision. The few that returned were already discernible as those who either needed his approval enough to stomach the art, or those that shared his taste to some degree. Katya had been a little of both, and continued meetings here - for her sessions of psychological reshaping through worship at his feet and under his organ - had brought her deeper into the catacombs of what he wanted from her, wanted to do for her. The first time he'd hinted at it a dark flame had lit her green eyes. Surely he knew he'd chosen the right person in her life to take, then. His member hard visited her insides violently that first night, something Katya was unused to judging from the sounds she'd made, it had been to have her submit, to let her know his superiority. It was a fact written in velts and scratches, and sometimes cuts on her skin as often as she was with him privately.

The parcel itself was small, but it held quite a lot of importance. All the papers that made her who she was, everything society asked that she keep safe to protect her place among -- the other human beings, everything; in her purse. Her friends would miss her and her family would remember. Perhaps part of the draw of this maneuver was just that, to pull the modern race one step closer to realizing its downfall had been its rise, when cops could take statements and look for a ghost, but never really prove her existence. A last flick on the nose of the collective giant. If only Edmond cared enough for others to pursue such noble wars at a larger scale. Katya, and the person dear to her that he had changed rather than stolen - she had done the stealing herself, hadn't she? - had been means for his own satisfaction, if he were to confess quietly to himself.

So it was a gesture with great weight, when he waved at his desk while sitting against it elegantly, standing with feet crossed to enjoy the support. She was meant to understand that she should place her purse there, for him to keep or destroy. Red eyes, like the warm light from the roofs of cop cars, shone at her through glass lenses as he smirked. "Are you excited, beautiful Katya? Tonight you will have an adventure unparalleled by anything I've let you feel so far." And that much was irrevocably true, despite the foundation of lies he'd built this moment on. The pain he had strung her body over, the pleasure he'd drowned her in after, the endless weight of his own persona he'd promoted to tame and collar her fully; all of it might just be made to cinder in the wake of this coming experience.

The hollow canine was waiting faithfully, hungry and lifelessly sitting, shadowed on the outskirts of what the light in the ceiling would allow a person to see.

 

[Zoophilian]

She found her mind flush with a mixture of anticipation and panic, What he promised would sound to good to be true, Yet the past few weeks alone had made her feel alive again. She would be lost in thought standing idle outside, With her hands holding the purse against the pleated skirt remembering how she got here. It was a whirlwind encounter surrounding a dark point months before when her sister had gone missing seemingly without a trace, Her home empty, Bank accounts untouched it would be as if she simply vanished.

Even now as that door opened and she would meet him again with that timid smile lingering on her features she would never realize the similarity between her current situation and her lost one. Even as her smile broadened "Edmond" She said with a slight bow of her head, pausing just inside the door to hand him a envelop of folded papers. It would be her life in one neat little package. She let slip an almost whimsical sigh, Even as she crossed the threshold into his house she knew at this moment her home was being picked clean, Per his instruction she left the doors to her home open. Knowing full well everything she owned would be gone before she ever had arrived.

The size different between the two somehow made her feel comforted, Even with heels she had to tilt her head back, brushing stray locks from her gentle features just to meet his eyes, Even then it would be for but a moment waiting for him to steal away her life, In more ways than one.

No sooner than the door would shut behind her would she feel her entire body quiver, Goosebumps covering her arms as she drew in a bated breath as she stepped just inside, a small bit ahead of him as she glanced over her shoulder at him, All her worries and tormented thoughts seemed to melt away as she remembered those heated sleepless nights, The exquisite pain that left her howling long into the night that made her feel so very much alive again.

Her purse, her life would be placed in his hands, Or more exactly atop his desk, She couldn't hide her excitement. It beamed from her as she squirmed, her stomach in knots over what would come, over what had already happened in these hallowed halls of what he called home. Remembering the nights she had spent tied to one table or another as he used her, More than once not even in a sexual way. Left bound with a string of small candles dotting along her spine with bubbling wax melting against her tender flesh, pooling at the base of her spine. Her place wouldn't of been purely a sexual one in his home, Or at his side, More than once playing the part of Table or some other object to sate his desire of breaking her down, Only to build her up again making her feel useful as if she could fit into any room, Any role in his life.

She would nod eagerly with anticipation of his question, Those soft ruby painted tiers parting as she smiled and spoke in that soft whispered voice "I have never been more excited" She dared to press forward, Up on her tippy toes against him for a brief moment as she would steal a kiss before stepping back on those heels. "Iam ready to be reborn" She said with a soft giggle. She truly would be excited by it all, Being with him had become something of a drug, What started as a dark little secret had become something she couldn't deny and even came to him for more and more often, To the point she couldn't go a single day without his voice in her ear whispering for her to do some twisted act or refusing her something she thought vital to her daily life.

 

[Verse]

The kiss had been sweet. Part of the allure of her submission was also her affection. As her master he couldn't always reply in kind, but today was celebratory in part, so Edmond leaned down, one hand lifting her chin while its fingers dug into her cheeks to part her lips further. His remaining hand freed his face of his glasses, placed them close to where her purse had landed. His fire orbs would be released for her viewing now. Hellfire, back-lit blood, passion - their color had been called all those things by earlier victims. He lifted her by her chin, palm pressing at the top of her throat to give incentive that she stay on her toes, that he didn't have to lower his head as much. "Good." His lips to hers, without affection pecks, tongue sliding out, valved with a pool of saliva for her. It wasn't a kiss, really, it was a delivery that concluded with his tongue grating at her teeth, as if saying good bye to their current form. Then he retraced and let go of her, leaving her to stand back down on her heels, if she chose to.

Once he had contacted her, enough time after her sister's disappearance not to be too suspicious but close enough in time to the event that she would still consider him a savior, her mind had been very susceptible to the things he'd presented. Every latch of the plan had closed favorably. There had been a lot more force involved when he dealt with her sister, but through that, he gained good bases to guess off with Katya. Yes. Concerning the remaining sister, the resulting damage on her psyche had more than lent itself to catalyze her adhesion to him and her fast approaching metamorphosis. Edmond sat further onto his desk, lifting Katya up on his lap, making sure her skirt would scoot up in the process off making her comfortable on him. Her legs would be to one side, lady saddle.

Her comfort in his house alone was an accomplishment in itself. His art wasn't always stomach proof, though he failed to sympathize with those that couldn't join him in reverence of it, but Katya paid it no mind anymore. In-fact, he'd purposefully made it her lesser worries, already on their first day together. The torturous pleasures he'd submerged her in far superseded any visual stimuli his collection of decapitations could provide. He, of course, found gnawing on and biting her the most exhilarating. Hand on her inner thigh, fingers deep into her flesh to keep her in place where she sat, as his other hand petted her hair, his form slightly leaned back to look at her. Like a prized pet or property. "You'll be beautiful in your new form." he promised as his fingers tangled in her locks. "It won't always be pleasant." His palm to her scalp so he could twist the tuffs that he held. "But it'll be part of it. It'll be simple." Mixing her discomfort with reward, always, to confuse and tame her mind, he stroke the inside of her thigh, high and deep.

She was at his mercy like this, her ear served up for him to whisper in. "And you'll be my creation, Katya. You'll exist by my doing and conclude at my whim." Her end, as he presented, had not been discussed by them in all the pretty fairy tails he'd told her about her new life. A sensitive subject for most, well, subjects, but why hold back today, when she was so euphoric with desire for the careless times he'd promised. Edmond let her go, eyes flashing a paradise sheen to the head that came back from his grip. He made sure to have her fully with him before he nodded to the side and back. There sat, her suit, diffuse in the protective shadows but enough for her to know it was her size, if it stretched. And it was designed to.

"It is the womb you'll be born into." he whispered, hand on her thigh ever higher, ever tighter. "It's going to swallow you, and then become you."

 

[Zoophilian]

Those subtle movements he made left her speechless, They always had, The way without words he would command her to move one way or another, She had never really thought about it. She was indeed treated in the same light as one would a pet, With his fingers at her chin, Palm brushing at her throat to keep her upright, her back arched, Balancing carefully upon her tippy toes even in those heels. She savored that kiss no matter how perverted it may of been, With his tongue probing into her mouth, Idly she sucked on it. With her lips pursed refusing to let the moment pass till he pulled away finally leaving her idle, Standing on her toes for moments after, a faint blush lingering before she found her way to stand on her heels once more.

Offering a lick of her lips, Tongue dancing against those plump cherry stained tiers. With him she forgot all of her worry's and thoughts of the outside world, Forgot of her sister and how she vanished or thoughts of what the girl might of went thru. She would almost giggle, An innocent school girl giggle as once she was pulled back, Lifted into his lap ever so slightly, With one arm coming to rest on his shoulder ever so slightly around his neck as his hand explored her thighs drawing ever closer to her naughty bits.

She had shown no fear, No aversion to his art, His craft. Instead a piqued interest in the variety of creatures, chimaera and other things she had discovered in his house. From the prone skeletal setup of the Wolf near the entry way to the eerily placed heads that mounted his walls in one place or another. More than one occasion he toyed with her when they were in one carnal act or another, Letting her touch and hold one of those disembodied heads as if they were a piece of art. It was a twisted form of foreplay, On more than one occasion did she taste the fur, The mouth, Cut her lip even against one of their fangs.

She smiled sweetly to him as he spoke, Mentioning that new form and keeping her off balance mentally the entire time, Stroking and toying with her hair, She would almost nuzzle against him, Moving into his hand, She to this point would be clueless to what he meant.. She would be his creation. Those deep emerald eyes would glance up at him, Biting lightly at her bottom lip, Tugging it as she nodded impishly at him. She would have no words, Not until he motioned to the shadows, To that bondage in animal form. Shining ever so slightly in the corner of the room. She could make out that muzzled mask, Heavy paws that looked to small. Her features would slowly start to flush.

Somewhere in the deepest part of her mind she knew she should run.. She was to truly become a pet, His pet. Her eyes roamed the room the nagging thoughts of the 'domestic' animal works of art around his house ringing in her mind, Trophy's of something entirely different than what she had originally imagined. His words sinking in as her eyes grew wide for a brief moment before she smiled, Leaning against him, Her head against his chest, Nuzzling against his neck. She didn't care, The outside world was a cold and lonely place, Filled with worry and cruelty. "Make me yours, I don't want to think.. I don't want to worry, I just want to be... yours" She said in a soft whispered tone, Thighs pulling together closing around his hand for a brief moment.

The way he touched her, spoke softly, It kept her at ease. Slowly she would sit up, Turning towards him as against he would bite at her bottom lip in thought, glancing at him again as if asking permission before she would slip slowly out of the chair and step away, Her hips would sway invitingly from side to side with every step around that desk, allowing her hand to trail along its edges before she stepped away entirely, Moving to kneel at the edge of the shadow cast by the nearby window, Looking at the bondage, It looked like an animal, Hallowed and rubbery, Her fingers stretched out, Touching its face, Its muzzle, Poking into its mouth at those rubbery faux fangs with a lingering smirk. Defenseless, Forced to rely on someone else for her every need no matter how basic. She never had to hesitate after comming this far. A smile lingered as she looked back at him, Brushing a stray strand of ginger from her face as she nodded "I.. I think iam ready, Ready to be reborn.. I.. don't think I was meant to be a human"

 

[Verse]

She had been fond of the heads and the bodies in here. Sometimes in her absence he thought of the lifeless things, once vibrant like her, as her pack. Katya looked so ravishing playing with them, spurred on by their heated play. In that twilight between madness and the real world, he'd name the cut-up things, and have her give herself to them, with kisses, and more. Such symmetry in her evolution. If it were possible, her soul had always asked him to do this to her, to convince her body what was truly right. Somewhere she had known, that's why he reached for her hand, but never took it, she would alway do the last of the work herself. It was the a symbiotic kind of convincing, where she played a large part herself.

He nodded at her and watched her slide out of his lap, heels contacting against the math on the floor. He wondered if he'd miss her bipedal form, but soon knew it was a faulty logic to begin with. Like she had said, her soul had never been destined for this. It had been born into the worn race. She was supposed to know other things, and that was why she'd gravitated toward what he'd offered. The rounded low of her behind peeked out at him under her skirt when she bent down and knelt. He had yet to turn, hands behind him, sitting on the desk. It might have looked like he was a master, letting his pet explore until he decided to call it in again. It was quite a suit, her new skin, and she payed it the reverence that it deserved.

All of it was a maw, he could say, it's hibernating form waiting to devour her, and meld with her to dissolve them both. It would no longer be a thing, but a part of something, and she would not be what she was either, because of that joining. When she looked back he found her adorable, half her face hidden in the same shadow that flirted with the suit. How would she take the news, he wondered, the last thing she would hear as at least part human? That morsel would also be passed to him today, a vital part to her genesis and his triumph. The things she said pleased him, more than her body ever had. "Yes, Katya. I think you are." He answered, coming off the desk himself. To leave her anticipation he walked slowly, hands in pockets, the same path she had taken.

It was almost laughable now, how small she was on her knees while he stood. How could he ever have thought her human, he mused to himself, the pondering as cruel as it was loving. Balancing on one leg, he lifted to rest a lacquered shoe on her shoulder. He didn't even need his hands free from his pockets for this. "Farewell, Katya, as you are." he said clearly, ceremoniously. He shoved her shoulder with his sole, to leave her laying on the floor. One knee on either side of her, hands finally out to tear at her clothes. He enjoyed this bit, like opening a gift that wouldn't be done until he wrapped it in something more fitting. Her lovely breasts and her tell-tale nipples were familiar to him, jiggling once to greet.

The key point of the suit was as simple as it was effective. The inside of it retained an oily quality. The substance would not only make it easier to slide her in, but it's most important task was to bond her skin with that of the designed canine. Naturally, to fit snuggly, the animal shroud had been made smaller than her to make use of the stretch. But physical bonding wouldn't be enough to activate the properties of the suit. It needed heat to initiate the melding process, a few degrees over normal body temperature. His hand swung down from the side, slapping one of her breasts to collide into the other. He'd done worse to her, not that his weight on her stomach would allow her to move away, even if she'd protested. "We need to raise your temperature, or the suit won't bond with you." His face was calm, bordering on cold as studier her expression, eager to cause her harm so that she could have what she wanted. Another loud clap, this time from his backhand, to catch the flesh of her tit over her areola and nipple. Red marks would soon appear, as he knew her body rather well now, and it would be signs that her skin had heated up.

 

[Zoophilian]

The outside world was a blur when she was in the house with him, Her eyes covered in a candied glaze that left her oblivious to the true morbidity of it all, Of the risk and danger it put her in to trust someone so completely with her own life, With such little regard on her own part. She remained knelt at the suit, Eyes fixed on its many parts that would soon be part of her self, At least until he approached.

She glanced back offering a sweet almost melancholy smile at him as he spoke offering those word that almost seemed to echo in the small room. A brow raised as his foot raised and shoved her down, Onto her side, then onto her back staring upwards at him. Her features flushed, Not with a look of hurt or betrayal but instead a most deviant grin as if to dare him into shocking her again, To pull her into the darker regions of her own soul. Then he pounced, Her eyes wide with surprise as fingers tore into her shirt, Ripping it down the front with but a single motion allowing her ample sized breast to bounce free, A meek cry to follow as if playing a part.

That first slap, Those groping hands caused her lips to purse, Parting only to let slip meek whimpered moans as if to spur him on. She was like a prized animal out for show, So quick to respond, And responded well to the whip. She squirmed against him, Biting at her bottom lip as he teased and grouped, Smacking her tender flesh again and again till that soft bronzed flesh would start to show a cherry shade already she was panting.

She wanted to reach up, Wanted to push things forward, or even encourage a different venue but she refrained, with her arms gripping at the carpeted floor, One arm stretched to the side, pawing at that suit with a longing in her eyes, by this point he wouldn't even have the honor of making her cringe or jump with each slap again her steadily reddening flesh. Her eyes would slowly shut her cheeks flush with a light blush recalling one of many nights at his house, When she found herself bound in one way or another, Or even taken atop one of his Trophy's. Such lewd scenes never seemed to end until she would be utterly spent. Glistening with sweat and often to weak to move.

It hadn't all been about sex, More than one night had she been merely teased and taunted to the point that she pounced him, clawing at his clothes only to be denied, forced to wait, to at times even Beg for even the simplest of pleasure. It was a game of sorts, more shaping her mentally than anything else, breaking down her walls. Working to bring out that smoldering sexuality and destroy that shy persona that was wrecked with guilt and sadness over the loss of her sister. He had succeeded to this point, The nights events would become a great success or a failure that would leave her forever shattered and him doubting his own ability.

 

[Verse]

Her moans were daunting. They had always been. Sometimes he wondered if things had progressed this fast if she still had her beauty and heartbreak, but lacked the sweet voice that she replied to his torment with. He could have recorded the audio of their sessions, replayed them every day, and still lived a satisfactory life. But Edmond didn't intend on doing anything so modest. If she had something that sated him, he'd want more of it, to gorge himself on it. Seducing her hadn't been enough by far. No. He had to own her and brand her. Pull her a part and rebuild her. Take her away from herself. Looking at her pinned form through his lower lashes, he took in her sprawled arms, obediently scarping at the fibers of the math instead of lifting hands to ward him off, or spur him on.

He reached down to part her lips with his fingers, thumb hooking under her chin to hold her head in place as he seemed to examine her. Like an object for purchase. Two fingers pinned her tongue, and rubbed it rather roughly. With some pull applied, he lifted her head for further inspection. His free hand came down to flick one of her impertinent nipples. His feet switched some weight back into his body, which was perched on top of hers, her stomach. Their differences in size of course translated to differences in weight. This alone should be torture. Edmon leaned down, eclipsing her view of the white depths of the ceiling with his sadistic, red orbs. His lips didn't come to her occupied ones, instead he twisted her head to the side, so she could gulp in the view of her suit. "What if I changed my mind?" he murmured cruelly. Fingers slid deeper over her tongue, thumb letting go of her chin to lend more length to the intrusion. "What if, through all our nights, you haven't managed to catch my interest?"

They were useless speculations, of course. She had far surpassed his expectations, which was why he was more excited about this than previous prey. There had also been more effort in the construction of this coming crescendo. The anticipation had seasoned the reward. Somewhere inside she should know that she was special to him. He still wanted to see the configuration of her features, when she though she'd been rejected from the new life that would save her from sorrow. The instance she believed it, she would have nothing. It was his self appointed task to stir her up inside, with his length, with his digits, with his toys and tools, but also with her own mind. His cheek laid on hers, so they both could see the animal.

Knees on either of her sides, his other hand started at her skirt, roughly finding the zipper at her left hip. An angry, hasty snap announced the parting of the garment and he started lowering the article. In the beginning, she had learned to lift herself and aid in anyway she could when he undressed her, even on their tumultuous first, intimate meet. Would she remember now? He continued to share her attention for the suit, her sinew tight wonderland. "The suit itself could reject you, you know." It was petty now, almost juvenile. He had not come to this zenith of the plot without having a particular fondness of her pain. He didn't mind extracting it with patience and preparing it meticulously, as long as he got to have it in the end.

All of this could have been used as a threat at first; the devolution, the degradation, the transformation. If he had told her the extent of it then, surely she would have ran, he thought as fingernails raked the side of her thigh, pure luck and manicured tips the only reasons her skin didn't open. What person would go along with this on a whim, without persuasion? But now that he'd whispered the nighttime stories about her freedom and carelessness, and let her taste what rapture submission came with, she all but thirsted for that dream, lining the inside of her latex shroud. Of course he would dangle it precariously in front of her, hold it just a little too high for a few more seconds, to make it all the better when she finally got to have it. The bowl of his palm blanketed her hipbone, massaging gently, traveling inward. His verbal taunts were always accompanied by physical ones. Instead of admiring the suit, he lifted his cheek from hers to look down at her face, ready to read her expressions.

 

[Zoophilian]

She stared up at him as if some obedient pet awaiting a treat or some other handout, yet found her only reward his gaze as his fingers lifted her chin, turning her head one way then the other as if putting her on for inspection. Then those probing fingers into her mouth, pressing firm against her tongue forced her eyes to stare almost crossed at him, at his hand as she squirmed beneither him, Her back arching, her fingers raking against the carpet in a fleeting moment of worry, lost to what his intention may of been before his other hand went to work, teasing at those pert fleshy peaks that made up her nipples. The soft flesh an almost cherry hue incontrast to that already bronzed kist flesh, glistening ever so slightly with a glimmer of sweat that would begin to leave her flesh hot and sticky to the very touch.

His weight against her, baring down upon her stomach left her breathing limited, no more than it would be come time for that twisted bondage to the side just within her reach. When he leaned in and whispered those harsh cruel words he could almost feel her heart start to race, He could see her eyes growing with in a moment of true worry, of panic that what had become her dream, her obsession over the past few months would be stolen away like everything else in her life to this point. Still she squirmed, She couldnt question him with his fingers rubbing firmly against her tongue, sinking ever deeper into her mouth, tracing her tongue till she would nearly gag at the intrusion, Yet it hadnt been the first time, He had worked hard at removing her gag reflex and it was a feet she had become proud of yet still she would neigh choke at the feeling of those thick digits nearing the back of her mouth, so very close to probing into her throat.

Finally his cheek came to rest against her own as that other hand wandered the length of her hip toying with the zipper of that skirt as her gaze was drawn to the rubbery animal to her side. Her eyes still wide as his fingers worked along her tongue, teasing her keeping her off balance mentally yet still his training had been effective, He could feel her legs tremble, Her hips lifting off the ground pressing firm against him ever so slightly as that zipper would be tugged, pulled and ultimately ripped open allowing that snug fitting barely their skirt to give way and easily be pulled free, Leaving her left with only those heels that gave her a slight boost in stature.

As that skirt was pulled away showing off her nude form entirely she squirmed beneath him, her tongue freed of his hand would flick, rolling against those strawberry stained lips for a moment or even two yet still her features shined with unease, Having an internal struggle with the mere idea of rejection at this point with knowing how well he enjoyed the game just to let her slip by, It would be unheard of. Yet still it wrecked her mind to some point, She would lightly bite at her bottom lip, Staring up at him as if a child torn between two candied treat knowing they had to choose a single one or be left with nothing at all. For precious moments after he pulled away, where she could only feel that hand rubbing against the bare flesh of her hip would she stare longingly at that Suit, the hallow muzzle that was to be her own before drawing in a deep breath.

Her decision would be made as she nodded as if affirming some deep seeded struggle, Those lips would curl, a deviant naughty grin forming as she finally looked to meet his gaze again. All worry, doubt seemed to wash away as she looked at him with a new found clarity, She was his. This had all been on his whim and she would allow it to continue in such a way, She would lean up, Prop up for a moment on her elbows, Thighs parted ever so slightly more as she felt his palm moving ever close to that nearly trimmed spot just above her nethers. She dared to steal a kiss, her lips against his in an almost innocent lingering kiss against his lips, the kind normally reserved for siblings before she perched back against her elbow's, Looking upwards at him every bit as Smitten as one could be.

With that grin lingering she glanced to that muzzle, to that hallow form then finally back to him "What will you call me?" She asked playful, Every bit as curious as a kid on christmas pondering what was in the big box they were told to open last. "Will I have a Collar? A Leash?" She teased, Hoping to throw him off just a little, to poke at that masterful visage of a dominating soul he had painted, While at the same time, Yet stuck half wondering about the very questions she asked, Had he put any thought into the after? Did he have some shiney new name picked just for her no matter how fleeting the time may of been.

 

[Verse]

He appreciated the little peck he received from her. None of the pain he gave, or the pain he sought to give her in the future, were born from wanting to hurt something he hated. If she hadn't been special, he would not have cared whether she be satisfied or succumbing to bad things. So despite his expertly crafted spiral of beautiful submission that had lead to only one possible conclusion, that she loved him, he had loved her first. He had seen her before she had seen him, after all, and that had been enough to send him on this path. Frankly, Edmond had wanted her so much, provided it was in the right way, that he had been willing to kill for her. Well. Perhaps he was absolved of that sin thanks to her, in the end. But that was a technicality.

The time she took to turn her head toward the new treasure between them, the last and only object she would really own and would own her in return, was very telling of what was going on inside her head. He thought it too, of course. The suit had a certain design, and couldn't be used by anyone but Katya. He'd had it made, made much of it himself. She had not fought the times when he had measured her. There was a joke between them, when he'd tie the measuring tape around her stomach flat, and then when he was inside her. Useless knowledge, and incidentally a very entertaining game. They had continued this until he'd cum, and swelled her with his deposit so that she couldn't maintain deflation, even when he pulled out. Still, there was always an element of guessing, as to how it would look, once it was applied.

He found it adorable, the way she wondered about her name. He smiled darkly, all his teeth, as he ruffled her hair with a rough touch. He sat harder on her stomach, using his weight as mean of controlling, dominating. Red eyes unprotected by expensive glass as he looked into her deeply colored oceans. "Well, this is a rare opportunity for us, Katya." He looked down at her body, pushed her forehead to make her lay straight, so his fingers to move between her breasts to tickled her stomach, almost where his clothed cock rested against her. "What should your name be? I assure you your current name won't fit at all, in your new form, since you will be part Katya and part something else." Really he wouldn't know until he saw the newborn creature, but he'd like to know anyway, if she had a sound in her soul that already called out syllables. Then it would be fated. He did not trifle with fate if it spoke directly.

"As for restraints such as collars and leashes... I think we both know the animal you'll be wont be satisfied without them, even if your new life will essentially be free." He tilted his head and looked down at her arms closing in as if he was about to embrace her small body. Instead the long limbs came to an end at her throat, thumbs locking above and two fingers from each hand underneath. Gentle squeeze, turning tighter. "Isn't that so, Kayta?" He kissed her softly as the pressure grew. He enjoyed this way of torture. The body had its own mechanisms for survival, no matter how well trained the subject was. It was complimenting, the way her tanned skin wrinkled for his strength. He could listen to her strained breath for hours.

That was not the point of tonight. So he left her with a kiss, as if thanking her for lending him her breath, or most of it, before he let go. "Why don't you go and say hello?" he said, lifting off her reluctantly, sitting on the floor, fully clothed by her naked form. Surely she would be curious about it. "But crawl." he ordered. Arm crossed over his bent legs, truly like a master training his pet on the floor. Red eyes illustrious as he cast them toward the empty canine. He couldn't say that he disliked seeing her on her knees, especially from behind. "Greet it like dogs do." Perhaps he couldn't keep this up for too long. Edmon, too was getting eager, not only to see her transformed, but also to start the process. And then whisper a certain truth to her.