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Empty Spaces [IC] (Desril and steinulfr)

The new paintings were...disturbing to say the least. Her memory wasn't that bad. She knew they were different. Changed. What she didn't know was how...or why. But she was too weak to waste precious energy pondering the question as she continued the long, exhausting trip upward. But the voice was right. That book. It was odd, but it might have something. She should've looked more closely before, seen what was really there.

I must be going insane...

Still, she makes her way to the book, nearly losing her balance and stumbling back to the floor as the scent of the flowers hits her, it's different this time, before the scents were simply that of a garden, but now she felt almost giddy...
 
The book swims before your eyes slightly, but it at least seems unchanged from its previous state. Rows and rows of names fill the pages, alternating with carefully drawn diagrams and a handful of actual spells.

If the book has any other secrets, it doesn't seem that it will give them up without more study--study which you are beginning to feel increasingly unable to perform, as the lights in the room begin to waver, and the scents of the flowers grow stronger in your lungs.
 
The words were floating off the pages even as she tried to read them, her eyes blurring and body wobbling. Shaking her head, a movement that only serves to further disorient her, Emilia stumbles backward to the center isle, stopping right where she summoned the fiendish hounds only hours ago and holding her head.

There was no hope of understanding anything in the book as she was, and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe normally. As she struggled to regain her balance, every breath was slow, long, and deep. She had to get out of this room. Rest. Study the book once she was recovered. And so she tried to continue upward, the only thought driving her onward being the lavish looking bed she saw further up.
 
Emilia stumbles up the stairs, tripping over her own feet. Serathiel asks whether she's all right, though even the sword sounds distant. Her lungs are burning now, and even after making it up the stairs she feels distinctly lightheaded.

As she rounds the stairs into the penultimate floor of the tower, the first thing that strikes her is that one of the changes since her last visit has finally actually improved things. In the painting over the bed, the Yethazmari is gone. Instead, the beautiful woman in the painting is lying naked on her back in a field of crimson flowers. She has a heavy leather collar around her neck, and her smile has an edge of madness to it.

The second thing she observes is a man lying upon the bed. He's very pale, with black hair and startlingly yellow eyes. Aside from that one feature, though, his features are beautiful, without any sort of blemish. He's dressed all in black silk, and appears to be leafing through another spellbook idly.
 
As she stumbles into the room, Emilia has to catch herself on the door, her weight supported by her weakened arms as much as her legs now. She can't answer her blade or even reassure her, she's far too weak. It's all she can do to whisper loud enough to be heard by the strange, beautiful man. "Who...are you? Please...help..."
 
The man turns the page of his book, barely even seeming to note your presence. "Fascinating," he says; his voice is a rich baritone, with a cultured accent and a hint of amusement. "I can't imagine Yeth meant to leave you alive, not when he went to such lengths to cleanse this place. But I can smell him on you, so he must have had you before he left. Typically sloppy work. I'd almost feel insulted if it didn't make my life easier."

He turns the page again with a soft whisper of paper. "I don't suppose you happened to see anything useful before he had his fun, did you?"
 
The man was trouble. If was obvious before, no one good would be here after what happened. But she was desperate. Afraid. Weak. She died and she didn't want to experience that again...or at least, that's what she told herself the rapid beating of her heart meant. And that meant she needed this man's help, no matter who he was.

So she shakes her head as best she can, but stops and looks confused, trying to concentrate, trying to remember what happened before and mutters the simplest way she can say what she saw. It doesn't explain anything, she hadn't even had time to make sense of it herself, but it was the only clue she had. "Stars..."
 
"Stars," the man says, not sounding terribly impressed. "That's the best you have?" He sets the spellbook down and finally looks at you directly. "Beaten to the punch by a demon. Rather humiliating, isn't it?"

He then smiles faintly, and looks you over. "But I can see that you're exhausted. Come here, little one, let me give you a moment's rest." He raises one hand and beckons languidly.
 
She could see the magic roll off of his words, but it didn't matter. She didn't have the strength to resist even if she wanted to. All that mattered was that bed, she'd defile it with a touch in her present, sorry state, but it didn't matter. Her lungs were fire and her legs were noodles, there wasn't a force alive that could drive her away from the promise of a soft mattress now.

And so she does as she's told, shuffling toward him wordlessly, the magic in his words compelling her forward with more certainty than her muscles alone could've allowed her, eager to embrace the silken sheets.
 
The man pulls you close as you near, and holds you, stroking your hair. "Rest," he says, in a gentle, compelling tone. "Lay down your burdens, just for a moment."

A moment later you hear a quiet, metallic click, and feel a light pressure around your neck. Looking down you see a heavy leather collar around your neck, exactly like the one the woman in the portrait is wearing.

"Now," the man says, in a tone that suddenly isn't nearly so gentle. "Tell me the truth. What happened? How did you survive the Yethazmari?"
 
As the collar locks into place, Emilia's eyes flare wide in fear. Or at least, as wide as they could in her weakened state, but there was nothing that could be done now. Her heart sped up as her mind raced through molasses at what was going to happen now, but then she was given a command and felt at peace for the first time in several hours. All that mattered was answering him, no matter how it hurt her. And so she spoke, even when her continued speaking made it difficult to breathe due to her weakened lungs.

"I saw something in the stars above, on the ceiling, flash, just before Yethazmari appeared behind me. He told me if I pleased him he'd let me live...I did what I could, I endured everything he did to me, he took my virginity even though it broke me, summoned hounds to fill me even though they shattered my body and made new holes to fill...then he took me properly, his tail penetrating me completely as he did...and when he'd filled me past the point of fullness he took me again, but as he did, he transformed me into something much too small...I think shrinking while impaled on his great shaft," she says, describing it as great without hesitation even as it draws a weak blush from her, "Destroyed my body....I didn't survive..."
 
"Fascinating," the man says, letting you go. "A complete and utter waste of my time, but fascinating. That does sound like something old Yeth would do, but the fact that you're alive and breathing suggests otherwise. Ah, well. Somewhere to start, I suppose." He shoves you off the bed, hardly even needing to try with how weakened you are. "I may as well get some use out of you," he says. He lifts one hand and draws a simple sigil in the air with his long, graceful fingers. The room abruptly smells of sulfur, and darkness pools around him on the bed, eventually manifesting as a pair of hounds. The lanky beasts are jet black, with glowing yellow eyes the same exact color as the man's. He rests his hand on one of them, where there appears to be a heavy collar much like the one you're wearing.

He smiles thinly, without any trace of warmth. "As you can't answer a simple question coherently, you're going to help me train my latest litter of hounds." He smiles more widely. "Run."
 
This time, the adrenaline in her blood gives her enough strength for her eyes to truly go wide as the hell hounds are called to his side. But she's still winded from her overly long explanation and trying to catch her breath, something no amount of surging strength can solve in a moment. And so, when she sees the hounds, she tries to call out 'no more' at the thought of being defiled by beasts once again, but the only word that escapes her lips to be spoken aloud is "More!"

She doesn't have time to notice or care about her unfortunate vocalization though, she has no choice but to do as commanded, and she runs as best she can, too weak to shut the door behind her as she makes for the stairs.
 
The man waits for several moments as you run, but just when you think you might be safe, you hear him say a single word somewhere behind you in a language you don't recognize. Instants later, the hounds are sprinting up at you from behind, easily overtaking you in your overexerted state. The first of them sinks its teeth into your leg and tugs it out from under you, then begins easily dragging you back up the stairs. The second runs in circles around you, baying excitedly.

"Fetch is a surprisingly difficult command to teach," the man says as you all reach the upper room again. He hasn't even gotten off the bed, and he's resumed leafing through the book. "Such a simple concept, but there's more to it than you'd think. Tell me, little one, do you know how to train a dog?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continues. "We begin with simple commands. Sit, stand, stay. Lie down. Obedience is rewarded with a treat. Disobedience...well. Spare the rod, as they say, and spoil the child." He smiles faintly. "Lie down. Hands and knees."
 
Emilia ran as hard as she could, but it wasn't enough. The hell hounds were on her in seconds, and it hurt. Weakened as she was, everything somehow felt amplified, and she was in tears by the time the duo dragged her back to the bedroom. And though her body was willing to fight, her mind was unable to resist. The command was too much, and the aasimar lays down as bid, her tail drooping behind her, her ears flattened and sad looking. "...Please," she chokes out, her 'no' lost to her struggling to fight back tears and steady her breathing, "...more dogs..."
 
"Obedience deserves a treat," the man says calmly. "And I think you've earned yours. Don't you?" He smiles, and then says another word in that smooth, sibilant language. The darkness gathers and another pair of dogs crawls forth from it, while the first two go back to sit on the bed at their master's right hand.

Rapidly, one of the hounds approaches you from behind. He sniffs around under you, focusing particularly on your crotch, and then licks you. His broad tongue starts underneath you, and then runs back up towards your tail. The heat of the tongue burns you, even as the slick, wet feeling of it sends a tingling into your body. A moment later he licks you again, digging his nose further between your legs this time; the rough tongue starts by lapping over your clitoris, then drags further back.

The other hound joins in a moment later, crowding in beside the first. His hot, wet nose presses in between your thighs, pushing into your entrance and fucking you with his muzzle. He pushes in, dragging his rough fur over your walls, and then slips back out before shoving his face even further in.

The two hounds continue this oral assault for several moments, but stop and withdraw before you reach any real satisfaction. Their siblings move forward as they do, until all four of the hounds are pacing slowly around you.

"It's a difficult thing, training dogs," the man says. "Harder than you'd think. Teaching them when to stop and when to go. Where to draw the line. How to cooperate."

He stands suddenly, the book dropping by his side, and walks forward to stand in front of you, your face level with his crotch. He rests one hand on your hair, while the other grabs at the collar. "I think you can learn to cooperate," he says. "Don't you?"
 
Her gasps quickly turned to moans as the hound shoved its snout into her. Even after what Yethazmari did...or perhaps because of it...she was sensitive, and its rough treatment of her, its burning tongue, only made her wet with desire. I survived Yethazmari...I can survive this...what needs to be done...I'm just doing what needs to be done to survive...if I refuse he'll kill me, or worse...

With those thoughts in her mind, she doesn't answer aloud, she merely nods her head in acceptance. It wouldn't matter anyway. Even if I tried to resist, I'm too weak. This is the only choice. If I fought him, he might take Serathiel...
 
"It's fascinating, the effect this can have," the man says, hand drifting back from your hair along your cheek. The nails have lengthened into black claws. "The hunger, the denial. The control. It will feel good, you know. You'll tell yourself it doesn't, you'll tell yourself you hate it. But you're not the first girl I've broken to the collar, and you won't be the last. Mark my words, there will come a day you beg me for this." He pulls his hand away, and then takes a step to the side around you, still holding your collar.

Around her, the hounds close in rapidly. One rolls onto its back and slides itself underneath of you, while another moves in front of you, sniffing at your face. The last two both move behind you. It all happens so swiftly and smoothly you have to assume they've practiced this.

"Cooperation," the man says. "You see? It has its...perks."

Exactly as he finishes talking, all four of the hounds lunge at you. The one in front of you rears up onto his hind legs and takes a half-step forward before falling, the front of his body landing on your back even as his cock is pressing at your mouth. The one underneath you shoves up into your pussy, as does one of the two on your back. The other aims a little higher, pressing in right under your tail and shoving himself inside.

The precise coordination begins to fall apart, after that. The hound in front of you begins to buck rapidly, fucking your face with short, fast strokes. The hound in your ass takes a slower and more measured response, thrusting slowly forward and then backing off, giving your body time to adjust to the intrusion, though it's still spreading you painfully wide. The last two thrust chaotically for a few moments before they find a rapid, hard rhythm. As one thrusts in, the other withdraws, keeping you from ever getting used to just one rhythm.

"I own you, right now," the man says softly, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Do you realize that? How pure that is? Usually people belong to dozens, to kings and fathers, lovers and rivals. But here, now, you belong only and completely to me." He pulls the collar a notch tighter, letting you feel the pressure more clearly. "Treasure this moment," he whispers. "I will."

The hounds appear to be similarly enthralled, though not for the same reasons. The one in your mouth is bucking hard against you, shoving you back against the collar. Behind, your ass is finally beginning to relax, letting the hound really thrust inside. He and the hound beside him slip and slide against each other, both clawing at your back for stability. What little was left of your clothes before is being pulled away, exposing bare skin to the heat of the hounds' breath.

And underneath, well, the hound there appears the most enthusiastic of all. It paws softly at your belly, and laps at your breasts, running its rough tongue over your nipples. Its back arches more fiercely with each thrust, driving deep inside you and rubbing against the back of your hole. Between the two of them, they're spreading you painfully wide, though it has its upsides, as well: the hound beneath you is pushed far enough up that his shaft is rubbing against your clitoris on each stroke.

Despite his enthusiasm, it's his brother in your mouth that comes first, hammering against your face. The man holds you by the collar and keeps your mouth pressed firmly into the hound as he thrusts harder and harder. His knot swells up, and the man presses you forward to make sure that it locks up inside your mouth. Burning-hot seed shoots down your mouth as the hound pants. After a moment he begins to turn around, shoving his tail in your face at the same time as his knot locks his seed inside you.

The next to shoot his load is in your ass, spraying your insides with his come. He grunts, biting onto your tail and using it as a handle to pull you hard back into him and ensure that his cock is really buried up to the hilt. The hound before you is dragged a step forward by it, his knot forcing him to come with you.

The hound behind you lets go and turns around at the same time as the one beneath you begins panting and whining on each stroke. It's not much longer before he twitches wildly inside you and begins spraying into you, drenching your pussy in canine seed. As his knot swells it begins rubbing even harder against your clit, at the same time as he begins lapping more aggressively at your nipples.

The last of the hounds can barely move, now, between the friction of the knot in your vagina and the other hound beside him. But he does his damndest, biting the base of your tail to hold you steady as he thrusts into you. He's grunting with effort on each stroke, struggling to keep moving, even as his girth and the knot next to him are forcing your entrance open wide.

Its several minutes of this before he, too, begins swelling. The man holds your collar and keeps you steady as the hound strains, and strains, thrusting forward as hard as he can. Finally, with a wet pop, the knot slams home, trapping both cocks in you and forcing you open wide.

"Did you enjoy your treat?" the man says, stroking your hair and cheek gently. "I know your new friends did." With that he chuckles and goes back to lie on the bed again, watching as the lot of you collapse in a tangle of limbs and tails, still thoroughly knotted together.
 
She'd thought that if she obeyed he would've used her. That she would've been safe from the hell hounds. But Emilia was far, far too weak to resist when she was made into their bitch anyway. And though they weren't nearly as skilled in the art as Yethazmari had been, the aasimar still found herself becoming aroused as they fucked her every hole, doubling up in her sensitive cunt. They weren't as big as the herald had been, but their cocks burned hotter with the fires of hell inside them, and size isn't everything. These dogs were big but not as large as Yethazmari had been. The two working in her pussy were ever just so slightly too big for her, but not so massive as to break her apart, and the constant stimulation of her clitoris made her hornier than she'd ever been. So much so that the one in her mouth didn't just fuck her throat, with every thrust she tried to wrap her tongue around its cock, licking with all she could, loving the taste, wanting it to explode inside her.

And then it did, its knot expanding into her mouth. It wasn't nearly so tight as its predecessors, there was only one this time after all, but it was precisely because of one that it locked in place. Where three had expanded so much that her jaw shattered, easily allowing them to pull out, one was large enough that it was trapped without doing enough damage to do anything more than be mildly painful. The one in her ass also locked into place, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming joy she felt as the two came inside her recently deflowered pussy. She was filled with hellish seed from every side, all of the canine cum trapped within her by the quartet of knots, burning her up from the inside, two of them desperately trying to penetrate her eggs and the other two fighting their way to her stomach from opposite ends, though her body is determined to stop at least one of them even as it aids the other.

Even if she had the strength to resist, she was far too aroused to try, but though she has bestial traits, it takes a woman longer to orgasm than it does an animal. But not under such...unique circumstances. As the fourth hound howls in triumph, Emilia's eyes roll back and tears stream from her eyes as she gurgles in delight, or at least she thought she was crying before she felt the burning sensation, realizing that some of the first hound's seed must've gone the wrong way, as she too reaches a climax with the four hellish dogs locked inside her.
 
"You see?" the man says, watching with a faint smile as the hounds continue spurting inside you. "You love it, don't you? Oh, don't lie. I can tell. I can always tell with you mortal sluts. You might say you're pure and noble, but the story changes soon enough once you're collared like the beasts you are. You'd be panting like a bitch in heat if you could, wouldn't you?"

His smile widens slightly as he rises, walking over to you. "Though that isn't so far off. Tell me, pet, has it occurred to you that you were mounted by the herald of a fertility goddess? That's not something that can be done without certain...consequences. In a handful of moons his spawn will tear their way out of you, likely killing you in the process." He leans in to whisper in your ear, his hand stroking over your neck just above the collar. "Would you like me to spare you from that fate, my pet? A gift, for providing my hounds such a lovely treat."
 
Emilia's eyes go wide as the fiend explains, more devilish semen leaking from her eyes. Not that she can react in any other way, really, as each of the hounds continue to splurt inside her, over and over again, seemingly without end, steadily filling her up. She quickly nods her head, as best as she can at least, not realizing that her tongue is continuing to pleasure the hound in her mouth as she does, its movements entirely subconscious at this point. Was it just because she was intimately engaged? Or was the fiend right, and she was nothing more than a bitch in heat because of Yethazmari? She wasn't sure, and didn't want to think about it, so agreeing to whatever he was offering was her only chance.
 
"Lovely," the man whispers. He rests his hand on your belly for a moment, sending a sudden spike of burning pleasure through your guts. "Unfortunately, though, you were still useless to me, and thus so is this place. Your new friends will be around here for another hour or so, if you want to avoid them...or if you don't." The man slides his arms under our hero, and scoops her up along with all four of the hounds making such a thorough mess of her insides. He carries the tangle of angel and beast to the wall of the tower, where a patch of stone in the rough size and shape of a door is falling into dust. With a pleasant smile he throws our hero out into the air. As she falls, the wind whipping around her, she hears a voice above call out, "Remember me to the litter!"

The fall tears the knots loose, dragging them over flesh made even more sensitive by the burst of fire he sent through you. You slam into the stone a moment later, hard enough to wind you but not to do any real harm. Above, you can see flames already blossoming from the tower, and spreading rapidly.

The hellhounds appear to have been momentarily dazed by the impact, but not substantially injured.
 
As the burning sensation spreads through her body, the extra stimulation sends Emilia into her third orgasm today, or in her life, depending on how you look at it. And then she's picked up by the stomach, the hell hounds knots allowing them to resist gravity and threatening to tear her body apart with their weight, carried along with her much to her perverse, secret joy.

Of course, that joy is cut short by the proof of her insanity sounding again, and alerting her to what the man said. Litter? He can't mean...

If it wasn't for the fact that she looks far worse already she would look sick at that thought, but slowly manages to pick herself up and start to crawl away. She makes it about a dozen feet, a trail of devilish cum revealing her path as it dribbles out of her orifices, before she finds something to pick herself up with. Getting to her feet, however, she realizes she made a mistake. Looking back at the hounds, she sees her black blade impaled into the stone between them. I can't leave her!

No matter what it might result in, Emilia moves to reclaim Serathiel, plodding along to pull the blade out of the cobblestone, but when that's done she doesn't know what to do. She wanted the hounds too much. She needed help. She had to go...somewhere. So she moved as quickly as she could, at least, that's what she was telling herself. But she did nothing to hide her trail.
 
Elsewhere, the sight of a naked woman carrying a sword and leaving a trail of fiendish semen might attract concern, and not a little fear. But in Kaer Maga, it is worth only a few raised eyebrows, and in Highside Stacks, not even that. The rich and powerful of the city are too busy pursuing their own pleasures, profits and perversions to spare a second glance for our hero.

The former tower of the former wizard was on the edge of the district, and it's only a matter of moments before Emilia stumbles north into Hospice. Here, in the hospitality district of the city, her condition arouses a certain degree of interest. But this is not the concern of the helpful and worried, not at all. A few of the passerby leer hungrily at her, stopping to watch the show as she passes. Another sort shout offers, bidding against each other to be the next to mount her slick, stained flesh. Some ask where she came by her condition, staring with the empty, jaded eyes of those who have sampled pain and pleasure and everything in between. One enterprising madame calls out to her, offering her gold and jewels to let his happen to her again and again on stage before a cheering crowd.

But our hero ignores them all and stumbles on, through the streets, looking for anyone who might care enough to help her. Right up, that is, until she hears the howling.

The first of the hounds approaches from in front of her, pacing slowly towards her. As she looks back she sees another hellhound approaching from behind, following the trail she left behind. She turns to runs, and sees the third before her, head thrown back to howl his hunger to the sky. Finally, as she turns again, the last of the beasts paces slowly closer, staring at her with hunger and fire in his eyes.
 
The voice was filling her head with thoughts best not had at any time, but especially now. The woman's offer stuck out in her mind for some reason, but she shook it off as best she can as she continued running. She was much too weak to fight. She had to move. The sight of a building was the sight of her only hope. It was stone, old, there's no telling what it was. It may be abandoned for all she knew in her semi-delirious state of mind, but it was something that the hounds weren't blocking, and so she ran for it, tripping as she pushed open the door, Serathiel flying out of her grasp. She twists in the air, falling on her tail, her breasts bouncing as her ass connects with the stone.
 
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