Beware! Non-con lesbian bondage and butt sex ahoy! Nasty sexy forced insemination too.
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This is the longest Ramona has gone without the Donna actively fucking her since the ordeal began. The ordeal? The revelation? Whatever. It feels like hours and hours but the patch of light from the little bathroom window is still strong. It crawls steadily across the floor beside her.
She is hogtied again, with solid chains and sturdy leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Belly down on the white tiles, her permanently erect nipples are pressed against the unforgiving surface, her sex oozes arousal in slick threads beneath her hips. Perversely, unless the demon side of her is getting satisfied, the rabid lust makes it difficult to care about the imminent danger. She could just stop buggering herself, and let the beast take her.
In fucking and teasing her demon flesh, the human anxiety at her predicament grows. The Donna was right, the wings are growing. The soft cartilage is hardening into gracile bones, muscles on her back swell and ripple as she moans softly.
The tail is losing some sensitivity, the barb at the end is vicious, but inside it feels just right; her body can endure so much more than this.
Perhaps the Donna is working up the motivation to come in here and maim her after all. Perhaps this is as good as it gets.
Donna Valentino has a demon’s tail, but her form fitting gowns leave no doubt that there are no hidden wings. Did she cut off her own, or was it her teacher long ago? Or maybe she never looked that way. Her wiry body, ageless and perfect, the sweet semen always dripping from her like nectar.
Ramona slips her tail all the way inside and rests her hot cheek on the cold tiles. She can see under the ornate claw foot bath tub, even the skirting boards are gilded.
Stability. Prosperity. Obedient servants that know their place, horny nobles that lust for power, and commoners that keep their mouths shut and their legs open.
What am I? Ramona wonders.
None of those things. The Donna will keep her long awaited toy weak enough to control.
“I’m losing myself,” the girl whispers.
A lifetime ago she had nestled her foot against Salvatore’s calf under the dining table. She had met his budding desire with an innocent smile, and raised a glass to their host. He had watched her step up out of the pool, his eyes lingering on her breasts long enough for his brother to tease him for it. Ramona hadn’t minded at all. She’d leaned forward to shake out her hair, given them both an eyeful of her shapely behind as well. Yes, she was attracted to him. But even stronger was her desire to break away from family life and finally spread her…
Wing tips touch the floor either side of her face. She imagines soaring above the clouds. She imagines diving into the azure depths of the ocean just to feel the water on her flesh. That’s what they will take from her, either cutting her body or caging her spirit. When the Donna returns, these worries will melt away. She will give all to her mistress as she promised. After all, the monsters bred Ramona’s line for generations looking for a biddable palfrey for kings and queens to ride at leisure, not a war horse. Not a free woman.
Tears of shame brim in her eyes. She had gratefully kissed the hand of the servant that washed out her arse. Begged Donna Valentino to keep her pet whole for her own pleasure.
Ramona bunches up her lean muscles and strains hard against her bonds for as long as she can before breaking down into a sobbing miserable heap. Not good enough. Of course she’s not strong enough.
The barb on her tail though, that might have been sharp enough to cut leather if she’d thought of it sooner.
The door opens and Ramona shivers in the chill draft. She looks up at the Donna, then down to the two pathetic figures her mistress is leading. Two naked women crawling with heads bowed, eyes covered. One whimpers as she crawls from plush carpet onto the cold hardness.
The Donna smiles down at Ramona. “Aw little one. You’re upset. This will make you feel better.” She slaps the girl that whimpered on the backside. “Fornire.”
The girl puts her head down and spreads out her buttocks with trembling hands.
Ramona winces as the Donna grabs a handful of hair and pulls her face much closer to the girl’s ass. Something metallic sits between the cheeks. Donna Valentino taps the metal object with a sharp fingernail.
“Premere.” She slaps the girl lightly again. “Subito!”
The girl grunts with effort as she bears down. Ramona watches in fascination as the stuffed asshole widens and then shrinks, widens and shrinks as the girl struggles.
“Fa male! Non posso! Ti prego! Ahi!” The girl shrieks as the huge plug pops out of her backside and clatters on the floor. It leaves a pink crater, oozing milky white cream.
Ramona buries her face in the slick offering and moans her appreciation, suckles the open hole, as the victim keeps bearing down and torrents of semen pour into Ramona’s hungry mouth. She works her tail feverishly in and out of her own abused hole, desperately keeping the full transformation of her mouth at bay. The girl’s horrified sobs are music to her ears as Ramona delves deep with her devil’s tongue lapping up every sweet scented drop. It’s divine.
Donna Valentino’s voice is bursting with pride as she takes hold of Ramona’s hair more gently this time. “Such a beautiful display of self control Piccola. I believe the wretched bitch will live another day.” The old woman chuckles as the whore grinds her ass back against Ramona’s face, riding the invading tongue with her gaping hole.
When all she can taste is the woman’s musk, Ramona looks up at the Donna with a filthy smile of satisfaction; the demon’s bliss when drinking semen is infectious. “Did I get it all?”
Donna Valentino never takes her eyes off Ramona’s come smeared face as she drives her whole hand far deeper than Ramona’s tongue could delve. The pitiful cries for mercy only seem to spur the wicked lady to further cruelty. She roughly withdraws her hand as a clenched fist, and the poor victim collapses sobbing to the floor.
Ramona is lost in those black soulless eyes. She laps the bloodstained semen from her lady’s fingers, sucking and teasing with her soft pink tongue until every trace is gone.
“My mistress,” she breathes, withdrawing the tail from her arse and curling it lovingly around the Donna’s arm. “Do it to me?”
“Greedy little thing you are. My hungry girl.”
The Donna lifts Ramona up onto her knees and covers her face with kisses. Ramona breathes heavily as the rough tongue cleans her face. When she is dropped hard onto her belly she revels in the humiliation, writhing, empty, consumed with need.
“Please fill me Donna, I need you so much!” she begs.
The barest twinge of guilt stings Ramona as the Donna drags the second girl around into position beside her. Though the girl is obviously afraid, her hands rest neatly in the small of her back, legs open in readiness, the picture of submission. She makes no complaint as she is ordered to deliver the intruder buried up her arse, but bites her lip adorably and winces as the Donna punches up into her.
Ramona is in awe of the woman’s body. She readies herself and sure enough the Donna doesn’t tease. With a gasp, her unsuspecting pussy is filled with a come drenched fist. She mewls with delight as her mistress rubs wet fingers against her insides.
“My mistress!” Ramona screams as her body spasms.
“All mine, sweet Piccola, forever and always,” the Donna coos as she splays Ramona open, diving between her victim’s arse and her lover’s cunt at will.
Even with such practiced self control, the victim is only human. After half a dozen unforgiving thrusts through her gaping ring she begins to sob quietly. After a hundred her whole body is a juddering mess.
Ramona knows how wrong it is, but the demon doesn’t care. Still, she curls a wing protectively around the woman’s shoulders and offers her the clawed tip to bite for some relief. She flicks the shaft of her tail against the human woman’s clitoris.
“You magnificent creature.” The Donna lovingly rubs the base of Ramona’s tail and slides a comforting thumb up her bottom as the other fist batters her aching insides. “This little bitch will collect Grimaldi seed for us, and they have agreed to raise his bastard as their own. The gold digger needed no convincing.”
The woman bites hard on Ramona’s wing as the Donna violently claws every drop of seed from her tortured bowels.
Ramona is numb. Her thighs open a fraction wider and she moans in disgust. The Donna is inseminating her with Salvatore’s come. The fist drives deeper than ever with barely any resistance.
The human woman moves her hand out of it’s appointed position to find Ramona’s and squeeze it hard. Please don’t give up, the girl begs wordlessly. She knows the stakes are too high to give everything away.
Ramona submits with a fluting cry of release, an orgasm of the belly as much as the cunt. She squeezes the Donna’s hand and grinds shamelessly against the ground.
Once all the semen is forced deep inside, Ramona isn’t surprised when her cruel mistress stuffs one of the wide metal plugs into her to seal it in. She does wail in horror when the second plug is stuffed up her arse. There’s nowhere for her tail to hide. She rests it tentatively between the Donna’s thighs.
“What a good, loving girl. Sweet Piccola. You’d make your mother proud if she could only see.”
“I’ll never see her again.” Ramona says quietly.
“They’re flying home tonight, it’s for the best. Perhaps I’ll let them visit you next year. Your mother was so disappointed when she never turned, you know. Try to understand, times were different then. I was sure she was the one, the poor thing is still always mooning after me. It would break her heart if I made her give tribute to you instead. Would you like that?”
“If it pleases my mistress.”
The Donna kicks the first woman in the ribs. She barks a string of orders at machine gun speed and though the woman is obviously still hurt she jumps to attention on her knees.
“That bitch will clean up here. I have one more duty for you before you rest, Piccola.”
Ramona is gathered up in the Donna’s strong arms, wings folded neatly, tail curled up against her tormentor’s slit. What duty could it be? Another slew of men to break her open? Not likely if the plan is to breed her for Salvatore. Maybe another terrifying tryst dangling over the rocks, but that doesn’t seem to fit the lady’s mood.
“To think I wanted you trailing after that man with your tail up your arse, simpering about the fucking weather and fawning over his cock.”
“You know I’m afraid.”
The Donna smiles cruelly. “Because you know what you asked of me. You fear it will be excruciating.”
“How…” Ramona baulks for a moment before continuing. Of course. “How will it work?”
“You mustn’t dread it so, dear heart. Every new sensation is a blessing.” The cruel lips kiss her mouth full and deep and Ramona cannot help but be calm. “If you feel I’m cruel to you, imagine you were keeping a lion. You would feed it well,” the Donna kisses her more gently now, leaves her breathless, “perhaps train it to recognise master, but you would keep it at arm’s length. You would secure it at all times, not for cruelties sake, no. But respect, Piccola. Respect goes both ways.”
The Donna’s quarters are vast. Behind her formal master bedroom is a smaller playroom. Ramona is set gently in the centre of a sumptuous heart shaped bed. It is windowless, but the many mirrored surfaces on the ceiling, on the walls, make the lighting beautiful. There’s no denying the truth. Ramona gawks at the sight of her monstrous body, displayed for the Donna’s pleasure. Delicious feminine curves and sharp demonic lines bound up into nothing but a sex toy.
“I know what we need.”
Donna Valentino opens a little mirrored door and like magic a record player slides out. She tuts as she flicks through the sleeves.
Ramona rests her face on the plush fabric and closes her eyes. Her arms and legs are getting used to this confinement, it aches a little around her wrists and ankles where she pulled against the chains, but her muscles don’t complain.
The soft tones of piano and strings drift from hidden speakers.
“That’s beautiful.” Ramona sighs.
The bed shifts as her mistress joins her.
“Look.”
Ramona turns her head to see a little pile of dull grey metal rings on the coverlet, surrounded by a short thick steel cable. Her lower lip quivers. She looks up at her Donna.
“H… how many?”
“Only enough. If I use too few, every time you move it will hurt.”
A tear escapes to Ramona’s horror. Logically this is better than the alternative, but the reality of it is still terrifying.
“Fuck,” she sobs.
“Don’t be such a baby.”
Ramona presses her face into the coverlet as the Donna straddles her bound body at the waist.
“Your body has changed my darling. You mustn’t prejudge these things.”
Sharp talons caress the ridges of Ramona’s demon wings.
“They’re almost at full size but they haven’t hardened or darkened yet. Still soft enough to shape.”
Ramona gasps sharply as the folds and ridges are pulled very slightly out of alignment.
“Still good for giving pleasure. Trust your Donna.”
And with that, she begins at the very tip of the left wing.
A little tool to clamp the skin, a little dab of alcohol, and then a few breaths of anticipation while the astringent dries. Then a click, and a jarring crunch, no worse than an ear piercing.
“Stretch it out Piccola, let the blood flow.” The tight clamp opens.
The rivet in her flesh is palpable but not painful. There’s a dull throb as the circulation returns, but nothing like the agony of having the wing buds mangled only hours ago. She dares to look at the mirrored wall and sees her mistress smiling.
“Thank you,” Ramona says sheepishly. “Thank you for being gentle.”
The heavier steel rings loop through the rivets, circling bones and ridges. These are eyelets for cables or ropes to pass through. Ramona sees the design take shape, like rigging on the sails of a ship. The steel cable will lock through all the rings keeping her tightly folded when at rest, but there are infinite possibilities for them to explore together with the bindings open.
Ramona shivers in anticipation. “I thought you’d break them and fold them. You know? Like foot binding? Squash them into a corset.”
“No wonder you cried. You thought I’d make you look like some hunchback.” The Donna laughs and strokes between Ramona’s shoulders. “I can string you up while leaving your hands and feet free. An improvement, no?”
“Yes. Please don’t be angry with me, but you’re wrong. About the lion.”
The hand pauses before continuing the loving stroke. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”
Ramona wishes she could make sense of these feelings. In fear, loss, desire, anger, resentment, is there a place for love?
“I need you,” Ramona says at last, “and you’d rather I always did. It’s nothing like lions. Tell me the truth.”
“Maybe, one day,” the Donna says wistfully. “First you bear the Grimaldi spawn. But remember, my darling. Words cannot be unsaid.”