I knew I wanted to write another version of Home by the Sea for Halloween '07, but it went through several incarnations before finally emerging in my alternate pen name. This entire story emerged, complete with cover, before I decided it was lacking. I started to rewrite it, but eventually abandoned it completely. Thus, here's an entirely cut story, rather than a scene.
Stand warned that this story is horror. The language of the characters and narrative is more harsh and visceral than most of my work. It also isn't up to what I consider my standards, so go forward with that in mind as well. Hope you get a little kick out of it.
Samuel’s fingers dug into the blonde’s hips as she bounced over his cock, her ponytail lashing back and forth as she gasped her pleasure to the ceiling above. His bag of ill-gotten gains lay abandoned on the carpeted floor below, his memory of the strange, disturbing occurrences within the manor forgotten. Nothing mattered to him now other than her big, firm tits bouncing in front of his face and her hot cunt stroking him.
Her violent spasms and ear-piercing scream of release left little room for doubt that she was coming when she slammed down on his prick one last time. Her juices dribbled down his shaft to drip from his balls onto the bed below as she ground her clit against him, still screaming and thrashing atop him.
The tight, pulsing squeeze of her hot cunt pushed Samuel to the edge. His nails drew blood as he thrust his cock up inside her, drawing more screams and squirts of juices from the blonde. The itch spreading through his cock turned to a hot buzz, and then he pulsed inside her, flooding her pussy with cum as he growled in release.
“Did you like that?” She asked, wriggling her hips to stir her depths with his still throbbing manhood. “Did you like filling my cunt full of cum?”
“Fuck yes,” Samuel growled, his eyes still closed and his hands falling from her hips to the bed below.
“Does my pussy feel good, Samuel?”
Two things struck him in the instant she finished speaking. First, she had called him by name, even though he had never offered it. Second, the hot wetness around his cock turned chilly and loose. His eyes popped open and he screamed in terror.
The blonde’s head hung at an unnatural angle, unsupported by her broken neck. Her skin had the pallor of death – her eyes unfocused and glassy. Ice-cold blood decorated her ravaged pussy, and was smeared all over him as well.
Kicking her off him with strength born of terror, he rolled off the bed even as she tumbled to the floor on the opposite side. A huge, dark bloodstain decorated the bed, and the crimson liquid ran down his legs in streams. Scrambling for his clothing and his dagger, he fell back when a shadowy apparition slipped through both the floor and his clothing, rising up toward him. The specter’s eyes were filled with despair, it’s mouth opened in a silent scream. The horrible shadow passed right through him, chilling him to the bone.
Samuel snatched up his clothing and bag of loot, jerking free a dagger to lash out at the multitude of man-shaped shadows whirling about the room in a macabre dance. The dagger and his hand both emerged rimed in frost, doing nothing to impede the apparition in its seemingly aimless, drifting flight.
With a scream of fearful horror, he charged through the dancing shadows toward the door, bouncing off the unyielding stone wall opposite the door in the hall, shattering a window and cutting his arm on the broken glass. Mindless of the warm blood now painting his arm crimson to match the chill stains below, he ran for his life.
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A breeze with the salty tang of the sea stirred his robes and shoulder-length hair as Tynvarus held the marble-sized sphere in front of him, the device exuding a sickly green glow that pulsed with the terror-filled thief’s heartbeat inside the manor. Pushing harder, he found the invisible barrier between him and the weathered stones still in place.
Though impatient, he believed in the knowledge he’d obtained, the artifact he bore, and the strength of the magic in this night – All Hallow’s Eve, the culmination of the Harvest Festival.
“You’re wasting your time.”
Tynvarus whirled toward the voice, his dark robes swirling around his legs and the bone amulets around his neck clattering. He tightly clenched the glowing sphere in his hand, raising the other to unleash his death magic on the intruder. He paused when the woman made no threatening move, simply standing with her hands on her hips, which were cocked to the side. Without lowering his hand – or the deadly ring on one finger, he asked, “Who are you?”
“Aniri. As I said, you’re wasting your time. My Master tried for all of his life to harness the power in this place.”
Tynvarus examined the woman, intrigued by her appearance. Her dark robes and numerous visible implements of bone and bloodstone revealed that she shared his calling as a necromancer. Her skin was pale, her hair as black as night, and her lips stained as red as blood. He remembered hearing of this woman as he researched the manor before him, his informants now bone and blood to fuel his Art. “Why are you here?”
Aniri chuckled. “To watch another waste his life in the futile pursuit of power just beyond his reach. It amuses me, and the dark power of this place can be utilized in some ways, so I spend much time here.” When she took a step forward, Tynvarus raised his hand threateningly. Aniri rolled her eyes and said, “Surely you would prefer that I stand somewhere that you can see me without turning?”
Tynvarus let his hand drop in silent acknowledgment. Anri moved closer, maintaining some distance between them, but well within his sight from the location he had chosen to observe the sphere still humming in his hand. He continued to observe her as she sat down on the brittle grass to spread out various elements of her Art around her.
Confident in his ability to counter her, should she choose to attack, Tynvarus returned to his study of the sphere. Nothing had changed, the item still pulsed with the thief’s heartbeat, and the barrier was still in place. Glancing at the woman, he recognized the components of a potion that granted the drinker the power to become as intangible as a ghost – with one notable missing ingredient.
The woman mixed her potion, and Tynvarus raised his eyebrows when Aniri pulled out a small, bone handled knife to prick her finger. The final, missing component in the potion was the blood of a virgin. When Aniri worked her Art over the bottle, drawing little tendrils of mist from the barrier around the manor with her words to empower the potion, Tynvarus knew that her blood met the requirement of the potion. His manhood stirred beneath his robes.
“You are untouched,” he said, intrigued that one so attractive could have survived with her maidenhead intact while in service to a necromancer.
“None have proved worthy, and my Master found my blood more useful to his Art than my body to his withered manhood.”
Feeling the pulse of the sphere between his fingers increase to heart-bursting speed, Tynvarus glanced down just in time to see the glow fade. Pushing his hand forward, he gasped in triumph when the barrier no longer impeded him.
“Impossible,” Aniri said as she stood. She reached out and touched the cold stone of the manor, as if in disbelief.
“Nothing is impossible, to one who wields true power,” Tynvarus smugly declared. Stepping toward her, he said, “Perhaps you seek to serve a new Master?”
“I need no Master,” Aniri declared.
“A shame. There is much I could have taught you.”
The veiled threat in his words and tone must have hit home, because Aniri shrank back from the death mage. Even as fear lit up in her eyes, so to did a touch of excitement and respect.
“Have you reconsidered?” Tynvarus asked, black motes of power swirling around the ring on his left hand.
“What terms?”
Tynvarus removed an already prepared potion from a hidden pocket of his robe. He could see the look of recognition and understanding in her eyes. “The blood bond – temporary for now, and permanent as soon as I find the time.”
She reached out for the bottle with both fear and anticipation plain in her features. Those who learned this ritual were powerful necromancers, an enticing Master for any eager student of death magic. Tynvarus removed the stopper from the bottle, handing it over to the woman.
Apparently committed to the course, and knowing she had little choice if she wished to live, Aniri held the bottle with one finger over the mouth of the glass. Retrieving her blade, she pricked her finger again to let her blood flow into the bottle. Tynvarus did the same, seasoning the potion with his blood as well.
“Now, drink,” Tynvarus commanded.
Aniri obeyed, consuming half of the contents as she knew she must, and then handed the bottle back to Tynvarus. He drained the remainder of the potion, savoring the sweet taste of her virgin blood. As he consumed the last drop, he felt the effects.
Aniri’s back arched and she pressed one hand between her legs, unable to resist the powerful feeling of arousal caused by the potion. Tynvarus’ manhood swelled, throbbing almost painfully beneath his robe. The feeling quickly faded, and he eagerly anticipated the full ritual, which would last far longer and likely bring them both to climax. For now, she would have to follow his every command, or feel excruciating pain.
“You might prove useful. Come,” Tynvarus ordered as he turned to walk toward the door of the manor at a brisk pace. The sound of her robes swishing behind him let the necromancer know that his new slave followed – as if she could have done otherwise.
Tynvarus pulled open the door, sighing in triumph as no barrier resisted his intrusion into a place that he knew housed vast, untapped dark power. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the building shuddered, emitting a groan of creaking timbers and stone grating on stone.
“Yes... You have not summoned me, and thus fear me. Yet another sign that I will soon wield all your secrets on this most powerful of nights.” He raised his hands above his head, laughing to the vaulted ceiling above.
“In all that my former Master discerned, this nexus feeds upon desire and uses it to destroy those it calls. Do you not fear that your desire for this power may be your undoing?”
“I am counting on exactly such an occurrence. The power of this nexus cannot be truly harnessed unless it is brought to bear,” Tynvarus responded as he drank in the opulence of his surroundings. Contrary to the weathered exterior, the interior of the manor was exquisite. “Come – let us see what wonders this place seeks to tempt us with, and surrender to those temptations.” He laughed again, proceeding toward the huge double doors at the far end of the entrance hall.
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Carefully leafing through an ancient text with wide eyes, Aniri said, “These spells – this research... Some of this is ancient knowledge thought long lost, and some is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“It will serve me well,” Tynvarus responded as he relaxed in a cushioned chair within the library, allowing Aniri to do all the work of picking through the books on the ornately carved shelves lining every wall of the room.
“Perhaps the rumors are nothing more than what most consider them, the ravings of madmen. We have encountered nothing save abandoned rooms filled with treasures.”
Tynvarus scoffed. “You sense the power of the nexus, as do I – I know this. It was much the same with the one whom I followed here, a sliver of his soul providing the key that gained us entrance. For many hours, the pulse of his life was calm, and then changed.”
Help me!
Aniri turned toward the sound of the faint voice, dropping the book she held to fumble in her robes for something – likely a magical device.
Help me, someone!
“The nexus awakens,” Tynvarus declared, standing up from his chair.
“You heard it?”
“Of course. Our lust for this knowledge has awakened it, and it now seeks to exploit our perceived weakness.” The necromancer observed his slave, her posture revealing a generous swell to her bosom, awakening yet another lust within him. “Come to me,” he ordered.
Aniri approached, her steps faltering when she saw the hunger in his eyes. She paused and said, “Yes, Master?”
“Disrobe.”
Her grimace of pain revealed her resistance to his command. Her hands lurched to the belt of her robe, and she let out a gasp of relief as the pain of her disobedience vanished. Apparently unwilling to risk another reminder of her eternal servitude, she hastily removed her robe, allowing it to pool on the floor at her feet.
Her dark hair – both the luxurious locks atop her head and the sculpted curls on her mound – stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her generous breasts rode high and firm, the tips erect. Tynvarus felt the arousal of the blood bond between them, and knew that she felt it as well.
As he untied his robe, Aniri asked, “Would you so soon waste a source of virgin blood?”
He opened his robe, allowing his erect manhood to peek through the parting of the dark cloth. His lips curled into a hungry smile when her eyes fell upon his cock, her expression a mixture of fear and arousal. “No – though you desire me to do so.”
Aniri guiltily jerked away her hand, which had moved between her legs as she stared at his erect member.
“The nexus feeds upon our lust, but it hesitates. I was not drawn here by its design, and it fears me.” He stepped closer to her, his smile growing wider as she fought to keep her eyes from drifting to the part of his robe. “Even as it tempts its prey, so shall I tempt it.”
As he came to stand before her, Aniri reached out to touch his cock, running her fingers over his length with a small gasp.
“You desire me.”
“I have no choice. I am your slave.”
“I have given you no command,” he countered.
Her hand wrapped around him, feeling the pulse of his lifebeat. She licked her lips, her eyes intent upon the swollen tip of his cock above her hand.
“You hunger. Why do you hesitate?”
He let out a satisfied groan as she knelt before him, unable to resist the desire within her. He fisted his fingers in her dark tresses, pulling her toward him, though she did not resist.
Tynvarus growled in bliss as her hot mouth engulfed him. Though her maidenhead remained intact, her experienced caress revealed she was not a complete stranger to the pleasures of the flesh. She took him deep and fast, her cheeks concave from the pressure of her sucking mouth.
He tugged her forward, growling when he slipped into her throat, her nose nestled into the hair above his shaft. He held her there, feeling her throat convulse around him, and then released her. She choked around his shaft, but quickly closed her lips around him once more.
The blood bond – far stronger on this night than the temporary potion would have ever provided at any other time – caused Tynvarus to feel the sharp need within Aniri, even as she felt his climb toward ecstasy. He felt his climax swelling within him, far more powerful than any he had ever felt before.
His hand tightened in her hair, drawing a yelp from her as he pulled upon the roots. His seed exploded into her throat, causing her to choke around him, spattering him with his cum and her saliva. She pulled away to catch her breath, his second spurt decorating her raven hair with a ropy tendril. A final jet of cum closed her right eye, just as she took him in her mouth again to suck for the dribbling remainders of his spent passion.
He pushed her away as her still eager mouth threatened to weaken his knees. Pinching his robe closed, he sent a thought to a ring on his left hand – an artifact of great power and very specific purpose.
Aniri looked around in confusion, unable to resist pulling his semen from her face to her lips in her passion as she tried to discern what had happened to her Master. She moaned in denial, her hand moving between her legs to quell the hot need assaulting her. With another high-pitched moan, she crawled to the chair he had occupied earlier, swinging one of her legs over the padded arm.
Tynvarus smiled in satisfaction, both from his orgasm and her obvious confusion. She could not see or sense him, and he had little doubt that even the powerful nexus could either. Tying his robe closed once more, he watched her part the dark curls between her legs, revealing the pink wetness beneath.
Her fingers danced over her nether lips, teasing the stiff bud at their apex. Her body rocked in an undulating wave as she assuaged the need she could not ignore. Moving closer, he fought the temptation to taste of her, deeply inhaling the musky scent of her arousal.
As her fingers moved faster, her milky juices coated her dark curls, matching the streak of white in her hair. A faint flush brightened her pale skin from her head to her chests, and her breasts quivered from the rapid pace of her flashing fingers.
She cried out in release, a stream of her wetness seeping from her to pool on the cushion below. She trembled and jerked, the strength of her climax in complete control of her body.
Though her eyes were closed, his were open. Thus, he saw the shadows congeal in the corner of the room into a muscular male form. She opened her eyes to see the man walking toward her with determined purpose, his considerable erection bouncing against his hairy stomach with each step. “I’ll give that hairy little twat what it needs,” he said with a chuckle.
Still inflamed with need from the blood bond, Aniri parted her legs even wider, welcoming the sundering of her virginity to calm the fires that still burned within her, despite her orgasm.
Speaking ancient words of power, Tynvarus raised his ring toward the apparition. The man transformed back into a shadow, dissolving and streaking into the ring at the same time.
Once again, the structure shuddered. Tynvarus could feel the power coursing through his body from the ring – a mere taste of what was to come. A legion of shadows in the shape of men seeped through the walls, freezing as one to erupt in a great sigh, and then a moan. A cacophony of voices gibbered from every corner of the room, only discernable to the death mage because of the protection afforded by his ring.
So long!
Undisturbed!
Dreaming of the time we were free!
Aniri curled up into a fetal position in the chair, covering her ears and screaming to drown out the voices. Arcane words of power once more tumbled from Tynvarus’ lips, sucking the damned spirits into his ring. He could see the despair in the dead eyes of the specters as they clung to unlife, spurred to survive by the power of the nexus.
The jolt of ecstasy Tynvarus felt coursed through Aniri as well, through their magical connection. Her scream trailed off, and she hesitantly uncovered her ears. She started when the necromancer dismissed the power of his ring, appearing in the room once more. Her eyes immediately snapped to the ring on his hand, an aura of black energy swirling around it, nearly obscuring his hand from view.
“Dress – we have little time to prepare. I now have the power to seek the nexus itself,” he commanded, moving to the table to gather up the books there. Though intended as a temptation to lure him into disaster, the knowledge in those ancient tomes would increase his power even more.
The anticipation he felt passed through the link to Aniri, overshadowing the weakness brought on by fear and her climax, enabling her to rise from the chair to retrieve her robe. The intoxicating mixture of her anger and arousal flowed to Tynvarus, causing him to smile and breath a satisfied sigh.
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Tynvarus watched Aniri complete the final sigil, and then turned to the desperate attempts of the nexus to reach him. All around the magnificent master bedroom, temptations and terrors struggled to catch the eyes of those within the protective bubble of magic exuded by the necromancer’s ring.
Buxom maidens fondled their folds, the scent of their womanly arousal as thick as fog in the room. The gold and gems adorning every furnishing and decoration in the room winked with unnatural brightness. Demons of frightening aspect scratched futilely at the shield of energy between them and their prey. Items of incredible magic power rested on dressers, calling for a mortal to take them up and wield them.
Tynvarus ignored it all, knowing that he would soon have the power to attain anything he desired.
With the hour of midnight fast approaching, he stepped into the center of the circle. “Come – you will share in the ecstasy of true power revealed.”
Aniri joined her Master in the circle, glancing warily at the increased activity of the apparitions in the room.
A mixture of guttural and spidery words fell from Tynvarus’ lips as he enacted the ritual revealed in the book he’d discovered with the ring he now wore. Even as the power of the nexus centered in this room hammered at his shield, resorting to brute magical force in desperation, that very same power fueled his spell.
Furnishings tumbled to the ground while rains of dust and mortar sifted from the ceiling above, as the necromancer’s voice rose in volume. Timed to coincide perfectly with the turning of the hours, the one second at midnight when the power of the dark was at its height, Tynvarus completed his chant in a triumphant shout.
The circle of runes flared into hellish light, though neither the death mage or his slave noticed. Caught up in the ecstasy of the magic, both could feel the power flowing through them. Tynvarus knew the nexus in that moment, as he knew his own body. As though a part of him, he knew that it was now his to command. Crackling tendrils of power swirled around him, turning the robes he and his slave wore to tattered, smoldering remnants without touching their flesh or their many items of necromantic power.
The violent shaking of the manor ceased, a few final wisps of dust drifting lazily toward the floor. Aniri knelt in the circle with her head thrown back, one hand cupping her sex, and the other tightly pressed to her breasts.
Tynvarus laughed, reaching out to the nexus. The overturned furniture righted itself. The mounds of dust and debris on the floor vanished, returned to their rightful place once more. He could feel those who would feed the nexus – feed his power – for hundreds of miles in any direction. He knew that he could call them, and they would come.
Then, Aniri vanished.
Tynvarus felt the power of the nexus surge against him, and cursed his foolishness in failing to protect his slave as he reveled in his newfound power. He could feel terror coming through the link to Aniri. Though the nexus struggled to wrest even slight control from him, even a fraction of the power contained within the manor could potentially kill her. Should she die, he would experience a precious few moments of weakness through the blood bond – moments that would prove his undoing.
Clenching his artifact adorned hand into a fist, he covered the ring with his other hand and bent his will to the struggle against the nexus. The muscles in his arms bulged, sweat poured from his brow, and the veins in his neck stood out as he fought to find his slave.
There! He found her, closed in a dark storage room. The nexus played upon her fears, snakes and spiders crawling over her flesh as mocking laughter assaulted her from every corner of the room.
Waving his arm, he wrested control from the manor to blow the double doors of the master bedroom wide open. Striding quickly across the carpeted floor into the hall, he tore away the tattered remnants of his robe. The cloth would only impede him, and his slave would weaken by the moment. Only his determined will held the dark power in check. Nude, save for a magical bag slung over his shoulder and numerous charms of bone and bloodstone, he stepped into the hall.
“Worthless boy!”
Anger surged within him as he heard the familiar voice. Standing in the hall, attempting to impede his progress, stood his mother. Dressed in the bloodstained nightgown she had died in, a garish wound in her throat seeped fresh blood onto the bodice.
“Weakling! You killed me in my sleep! Coward! Emasculated child! You are a shame to your blood!”
Though he knew it for nothing more than an apparition created by the desperate nexus, Tynvarus lashed out with the power in his ring. The walking corpse exploded, spreading quivering bits of bloody flesh and bone down the hallway. He continued on, paying no mind to the gory mess beneath his feet.
Nearing the turn in the hall leading to the stairs, he heard Aniri’s voice and whirled to peer into the open bedroom door. “Master!”
Held at the hands and feet by unseen hands, spread out on the bed, she struggled against her captors in terror. She attempted to scream, but her head lurched backward and she choked, her lips stretched into a wide O shape.
Conflicting senses of her presence assaulted Tynvarus. He could feel her within the room, and yet she was still below. Spreading his fingers wide, he called to the power of his ring to sort out the conflicting impressions.
A muffled, gurgling cry erupted from Aniri as something invisible and impossibly large parted her nether lips, blood dripping from splits that grew longer by the second.
Tynvarus turned from the scene without another thought, knowing the woman for an illusion. He would have felt the sundering of her virginity through the blood bond. He could still feel her presence in the room, however, which caused him to quicken his pace. If this Aniri was false, then the other might be as well. For every moment he failed to find her, the power of the nexus swelled against him.
Concentrating on his goal, Tynvarus ignored the shades of those he’d killed, the halls and stairs that tried to change location, visions of aroused female flesh, the ever-present voices, and shadowy specters that swirled all around him. His anxiety increased as he reached the first floor, moving as quickly as possible toward the storage room. His sense of Aniri’s presence was weakening, even as the power of the manor grew stronger.
Reaching out with the power in his ring, Tynvarus tore the door from its hinges and ripped it out into the hall as he approached. Aniri lay huddled on the floor whimpering, her will nearly broken.
He scattered the shadowy serpents and spiders with a burst of the nexus’ own energy, speaking the words of power that absorbed the spirits of the damned into his ring. Passing through the vanishing shadows, he stood over Aniri and enveloped her in his bubble of protection.
A plaintive moan echoed throughout the manor, followed by profound silence.
Unable to reach the chink in his armor, the manor surrendered. Once again, Tynvarus possessed full control of the nexus. Ecstasy flooded through him, causing his manhood to rise. Beneath him, Aniri’s weak vocalizations trailed off. She gasped and sat up, feeling the power through the bond to her Master.
Aniri stood, the scent of her arousal tickling Tynvarus nostrils. The bone wizard groaned in bliss and shifted the mutable manor so that he stood with his slave in the great dining hall.
Summoning one of the crystal goblets resting on shelves along the wall to his hand, he reached into his bag with the other. Another flash of thought dissolved the remainder of Aniri’s tattered robe as he withdrew a black bladed knife from his magical satchel.
Aniri pressed her body to him, rubbing her slick folds and erect nipples against him. Enraptured by the nearly limitless power now at his beck and call, Tynvarus meant to take her now, to obtain what no man had gained, which she could never offer to another.
When he pushed her away from him, she gasped and said, “Take me, my Master. Share with me your power.”
As he raised the knife to her left breast, she thrust the firm globe toward him, her fingers caressing her folds below. He pricked the pale skin, creating a stream of crimson that trickled down her stiff nipple to the goblet below.
When the goblet was half full of her virgin blood, he passed the flat of his blade over the cut, green sparkles of magic sealing the wound. He brought the blade to his mouth, licking it clean, and then did the same for Aniri’s breast, drinking in the unique vintage that none would ever know again.
“Please take me, Master. Take me. Take me. I can bear it no longer,” she begged as his tongue swirled over her flesh.
“I am now worthy?” He asked.
“Yes, Master. None possess your power. My flesh is yours. Take it, Master,” she pleaded in hot need, fueled by the power flowing through her Master.
Grasping her arms, he pushed her back toward the long wooden table, a thought causing the cushioned and gilded chairs between her and the table to vanish. When her rounded bottom contacted the wood, she spun and bent low. Her sex dripped in anticipation, and she wiggled her hips to entice him.
He needed no further encouragement, he was as full of lust for her body from the power surging through him as she was. Smoothing away the dark curls, he parted her nether lips with his fingers and seated the tip of his manhood against her moist flesh.
“Take me, Master,” she gasped again.
Tightly gripping her hips, he pushed into her saturated depths. She cried out in pain as he ripped through her barrier, and then groaned as the swollen head of his cock settled into her clenched depths.
“I am yours, Master – yours alone,” she breathed, pushing back against him.
Aniri squealed in a mixture of pleasure and pain with each thrust, as Tynvarus watched his manhood slipping in and out of her. A mixture of her wetness and blood decorated his rigid shaft, swelling the arousal within him.
Through the blood bond, their ecstasy mingled and combined, driving Aniri to thrust her hips back at him with every stroke of his cock. Their flesh collided with loud smacks, Aniri lowering her body to the table so that she could grasp his hands on her hips, which clenched painfully into her. Rather than trying to remove them, she squeezed until he dug in his nails as well.
Aniri’s cries of passion grew deeper and louder. Her Master added strength to his thrusts, the thought that his seed might take root in her womb fueling his ardor. An unborn child offered many powerful benefits to one dedicated to the magic of bone and blood.
Aniri screamed, her body trembling uncontrollably as she reached her peak. Tynvarus snarled in fascinated arousal as fountains of her juices squirted out around his rapidly thrusting organ. Her nails pierced the flesh of his hands as she came. His own peak rapidly approaching, he slammed into her with all the strength and speed he could muster.
A long, hissing groan passed his lips as he spilled his semen within her. His own pleasure enhanced by hers through the blood bond, he spent his passion in hard spurts, creating a hot pool deep within her. With the last pulse of his cock, he hung his head, sweat dripping from his nose to trickle down the cleft of her buttocks.
Let us relive our lives in what we tell you.
The sibilant whisper startled Tynvarus, but he found he was paralyzed, unable to even open his eyes. A rush of images flowed through his head of a dark-haired girl growing up poor and abused. Try as he might, he could not stop the onslaught, and endured the abuse as though he experienced it first hand.
Bruises and welts appeared on his flesh. Bones snapped. The barrage of memory continued, following the girl into the flower of womanhood.
Anger. Bitterness. Murder. Revenge.
He lived Aniri’s life in servitude to her Master, obsessed with the power of the nexus. He relived her death, violated by unseen phalluses that tore into her body. As she died in the irresistible memories, the paralysis released him.
He snapped his eyes open to the sound of mocking laughter echoing from throughout the room. The shadowy spirits of the damned swirled around him where he remained coupled with Aniri. The burning ecstasy of the blood bond turned sluggish and clammy, as did the hot sheathe of flesh surrounding his shrinking cock.
He screamed as a thousand needle-sharp teeth stabbed into the flesh of his manhood. He jerked free of her, drawing angry red lines of blood along the length of his cock. Aniri laughed, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. With a sound of cracking bone and rent flesh, her head continued to turn until she looked him directly in the eyes. Her hands snapped back, lengthening so that her dagger-like nails could stab into his chest.
Mentally grasping for the power of his artifact ring, he could not find it. As darkness closed in on his vision, her nails lodged in his heart and lungs, Aniri smiled.
Clenched between her teeth was his ring, pulled from his finger as he expelled his seed into her.
Unseen hands supported his weakening body, holding up his head so that his dimming eyes continued to behold Aniri’s sadistically smiling face. As the darkness overwhelmed him, he heard the greeting that so many other lost souls had before him.
Welcome to the home by the sea!
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