Work Text:
When A Piece Becomes a Wedding Gift
Furudoble
Upon waking up, the first thought running through Furudo Erika’s hazy mind was the number sixteen. It seemed so impossible to explain her defeat that the part of her brain that held all of her pride in her intellectual prowess felt like it was submerged in a cold sea. Next her thoughts drifted to her master, her final memory of Bernkastel being her backside as she walked away silently. She knew she shouldn't be surprised that her cruel master would abandon her, but it crushed her all the same.
Erika was no stranger to abandonment. Still, it is a feeling difficult to get used to. The pain was compounded by the knowledge that she had lost to an illusion, an affront to the mystery genre. Despite the fact that the blue-haired girl was unable to see (her detectives intuition told her it was a blindfold), the image of that cackling face was clear as day.
As she writhed in shame and alienation, she finally noticed that she could writhe only so much, her hands and legs being bound up by what felt like coarse rope tied tight against her skin. Even more strangely there seemed to be some sort of collar pressing in tightly all around her neck.
Is this what the depths of oblivion feels like? she thought to herself. It was the only logical conclusion she could come to. Bernkastel, her master, had often threatened Erika with being cast into these depths if she failed to live up to the cruel witch's expectations. Even though it was unfair, even though it was callous, Erika loved that part of Bernkastel. Even when she was on the receiving end of her cold tongue lashings, she admired the cruel way she dismantled her self image as the Great Detective. That admiration mixed with despair created a strangely unpleasant emotion.
“My my, it would seem this one thinks she's been cast into the depths of oblivion.” a familiar voice chuckled in the darkness of Erika's perception, causing her to tense up. The blood in her veins bounced between icy cold and burning hot. The voice broke into laughter which quickly transformed into an unmistakable trademark cackle. It dawned on Erika that this wasn't the darkness of oblivion. It was something much, much worse.
Erika opened her mouth in an attempt to hurl insults and curses at the owner of that voice. Strangely, no words came. Her mouth, lips and tongue went through the motions, and air entered and left her lungs as if she was screaming, but the words never made it out into the darkness.
“What's the matter, cat got your tongue, Furudo Erikaaaaa?” The voice was now directly next to Erika's head. She cringed in shame, being reminded of the master she had failed so spectacularly. She felt a cold hand on her forehead and when she tried to shake it off a second icy hand grabbed the base of one of her twin tails and pulled. Hard.
Of course, just like the words that couldn't escape her lips, her painful scream died in her throat. Another chuckle filled Erika's mind, closer and louder this time. More sickening. “Battler! Battler, I don't think the Great Detective has realized what sort of a bind she finds herself in!” she exclaimed gleefully. That's right. If she was here, then of course that dunce Battler would be as well. Her irritation grew at the realization of just who was responsible for her current bound and speechless state. Then it dawned on her. If she was helplessly splayed out in this manner before the two of them... it could only be possible with Bernkastel's approval.
The fact that she couldn't talk or scream didn't seem to hold true for her ability to shed tears. She could picture the smirking face of the captor hovering near her left ear. Erika winced when the voice filled her ear with hot air as it whispered , “Do you remember the ring you forced onto Battler's finger?”.
Yes, the ring of subordination. She remembered the custom-made gift Bernkastel had created for her. The ring she had crammed onto Battler's ring finger while he was trapped in a logic error. The hand on her forehead moved to yank the blindfold off roughly, revealing the regal form of the Golden Witch, Beatrice. Tilting her head slightly to her left brought Battler into her vision as well. He was looking at his feet and for some strange reason he wore a slight blush on his down turned face. “That collar on your neck was crafted in a similar fashion,” she started, pausing to chuckle before continuing, “But this will surely be used for a much more entertaining purpose”. Beatrice's face suddenly changed from a smirk to the stone-faced visage of an executioner.
“You may not speak unless I, or Battler, gives you permission to do so. Graciously, you are permitted to move as you wish, but cannot disobey a command I, or Battler, give you. Do you understand?Furudo Erikaaaa?” she said, her stone face melting back into a sadistic smirk as the witch stretched out the last syllable of her name. Beatrice was explaining all this like it was one of her games. Erika began imagining all the humiliating things she would be forced to do. Knowing Battler, she would be forced to dress in all manner of lascivious outfits and parade around in them for all to see. Cheerleader, schoolgirl, maid, pirate captain. She felt a swell of shame and more tears began sliding down her cheeks.
And what about Beatrice? She thought. She had heard second hand of the cruel acts committed against the Ushiromiya family in previous games. Those atrocities were committed against people with free will. How much more terrible could she be to someone lacking free will? She could be forced to do all sorts of disturbing self-destructive acts to herself.
Suddenly, Battler spoke up. “Beato, are you sure about this?” he asked meekly. Beatrice swung her head around lazily toward Battler and spoke, “Battler, after all the trouble this girl caused you, your family and especially me, don't you think she deserves some punishment?”. Battler smiled nervously and glanced between Erika and Beatrice, trying to find his words. “Ihihihi, maybe I'm still just a bit too soft for this whole game master thing. I don't think I have it in me to carry through with this.”
Shadows of disappointment appeared on Beatrice's face. She burst into a cloud of golden butterflies and almost instantly reformed at Battler's side; her arms draped around his shoulders. Still maintaining her domineering demeanor, speaking softly but firmly into Battler's ear.
“Remember when I told you I wanted you to write our tale from now on?”. Battler sighed and nodded in assent. “When I asked you...if we could try experimenting with writing something outside of your comfort zone?”, her tone softened and took on the role not of the golden witch, but Battler's wife pleading him to do this for her. Her eyes changed from that of a sneering predator to a begging puppy dog. Erika was looking around the room, searching for some method of escape from this closed room. Once again, she began to wriggle and writhe, testing the strength of her bindings. Unfortunately, this was yielding no results but she continued to thrash about as much as she could out of frustration. Her cheeks were now flooded with the frustration, and humiliation poured from her eyes.
While Erika was fruitlessly flailing, Beatrice continued to pry open Battler's reservations for whatever it is she had planned for the great detective. Her voice was further and further removed from the intimidating witch, closer to the soft and sweet chick Beato of the sixth game. “Battleeeeer...I just thought that maybe you would consider including something...different with one of your tales. What could be more interesting than trying out a completely new genre.”, she cooed. Battler started to show cracks in his wall of apprehension. Erika still didn't know what that request actually entailed and didn't care. She knew it wouldn't be to her liking, whatever it was. Battler was fidgeting uncomfortably as Beatrice's whispers grew closer and between words pressed her lips against his earlobe.
Erika had tired from her feeble escape attempt and glanced over at the pair. Her mouth twisted in revulsion at the sight of Beatrice digging her tongue into Battler's ear and occasionally stopping to whisper a barely audible “please” into the same ear. His face was a blushing mess, his eyes closed, mouth mumbling “Beato....” and one of his arms wrapping around Beatrice to pull her closer. Men are all the same. They only want one thing and it’s disgusting. Erika thought to herself. Put off as she was, the couple's display was having an effect on her regardless. When she became aware of the jealous sort of arousal well up inside her, a new wave of shame came crashing down
It must have shown on her face because Beatrice looked over while still exploring Battler's ear, breaking out in a ghoulish grin from a wide-open mouth. To Erika it looked positively demonic. Maintaining eye contact, Beatrice pulled back a few inches from Battler and asked in a loud voice, a voice meant for Erika to be able to hear clearly, “Baaaaattleeeer, what do you say?You know I would do a-ny-thing you asked of me. Will you do this for me?”
Battler composed himself and tentatively glanced over at Erika. She knew what his answer would be before it left his lips. She knew that a man like Battler would be easily cowed by an overpowering feminine presence like Beatrice. Of course, the great detective was right. Simply by the existence of Battler’s stupid face, this level of reasoning is possible for Furudo Erika. Battler sheepishly mumbled, “Mmm....well I guess this one time it would be okay...to create a different kind of tale.” Beatrice beamed with joy and patted Battler's head lovingly. With that, Erika's soon to be discovered fate was sealed. Beatrice, now that she had Battler's consent, once again poofed into a whirlwind of golden butterflies. She reappeared in quite a compromising position, knees on either side of Erika's modest chest. The blue-haired detective jolted against her bonds at the sudden appearance and quickly huffed silently and turned her head to the side to avoid looking Beatrice in her eyes. Beatrice leered down at her and commanded “Look at me”
Erika attempted to ignore the command but she felt her body acquiescing to the demand. Willing herself not to cry, Erika peered into the sky-colored eyes of the Golden Witch. She seemed impossibly tall from Erika's vantage point and she was reminded of her small stature. She materialized holding a pipe that hadn't been there before, inhaling a long drag of whatever strange leaves were inside and wordlessly puffed a large cloud of sweet smelling smoke directly into Erika's face. Erika coughed violently as the saccharine mist invaded her lungs. While she was still trying to catch her breath, Beatrice opened her mouth and uttered a single word.
“Speak”
Erika suddenly felt the uncomfortable weight lift off of her neck and throat. She was so surprised by the sudden return of her ability to speak that she was temporarily lost for words. After a moment she regained her composure and prepared to hurl a torrent of obscenities and protestations at Beatrice and Battler. Taking a deep breath she shouted, “Get the fu-”
“Shush”
Erika's throat trembled and tightened, allowing nothing but a weak cough to escape her lips. Beatrice smiled at this and raised her right hand, making Beatrice seem even taller. Erika realized that that hand was intended to strike her cheek so she winced and turned her head to the right to minimize her pain. Only to be surprised by the gentle touch of a hand moving across her cheek. Her eyes jolted open in surprise. So she saw it just in time.
Oh, she thought, as Beatrice's left hand came crashing down on her cheek. Erika felt her right cheek burning up as she experienced the unique discomfort of not being able to yelp or scream to cope with the pain. Don't let her see that it hurt you her little gray cells cry out. She stared back in hatred at Beatrice and fantasized about what vengeance Bernkastel would unleash against the woman who was abusing her piece so gleefully; until she reminded herself once again that she was an abandoned piece. Her lip quivered involuntarily.
“Lady Bernkastel won't be getting involved here. I can promise you that.” Beatrice cooed, followed by Battler mumbling, “yeah, after all-” before being cut off by a fierce stare from Beatrice. Battler turned away instantly and rubbed the back of his head. “We can make that move later in the game. But do come over this way, Battler. Your assistance is needed here.”
Erika was having trouble paying attention to what anyone was saying. There was an overflowing feeling of bright and soft energy moving from her lungs all throughout her body. Erika's pupils slowly began dilating and her heart rate was inching up bit by bit. She felt a great heat building up in her core and spreading to her extremities. What's wrong with me? My mind isn't working correctly...I want to have idle chat with this woman...I want this woman to play with my hair...No! She's my master's enemy! Enemy? Erika’s friend/enemy distinction was breaking down. Her thoughts raced and raced, pushing her to accept and even welcome this situation. What was in that smoke? Surely some kind of drug!
Erika's eyes desperately tried to focus and zeroed in on Battler coming to her side. Erika couldn't hear the forceful words spoke between Beatrice and Battler; even so she was burning up as hands grasped her ankles and she felt a downward tug at her frilly dress. What's happening to me? Erika gasped at the sudden rush of cool air on the back of her thighs. I wonder what Holmes would do in this situation... the great detective thought as two pairs of hands moved down her calves in unison. Through hazy eyes Erika watched as Beatrice and Battler pushed their faces together. Her whole world was those four hands gripping her legs as they next rolled her black stockings down. In this situation, it became apparent that Holmes would do nothing but disappear over the edge of a waterfall. Blood rushed to Erika's head, and she could feel her rapid heartbeat in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. The cool air soon found its way between her legs as Erika lost track of another article of clothing. She immediately located it when her plain white panties were laid to rest over her eyes. How vulgar. They were slightly damp, and she hated that fact. She consciously held back the urge to start tearing up again. She had already given Beatrice too much of what she wanted. At the very least she needed to deny her this satisfaction. Deny her this plea-
“Go ahead Battler, touch her. It would make me so very happy.”
Beatrice soon received another piece of that satisfaction. Battler, that fool who would drown in the darkest depths for Beatrice, did as she asked enthusiastically. Clearly Beatrice had instructed him thoroughly in the unknowable amount of time between the matrimonial duel between Erika and Beatrice and the moment Erika regained consciousness in this predicament. Erika's face contorted against her will and it was all she could do to keep her mouth closed. Or so she thought.
“Speak”
Erika panicked. She had forgotten. This cursed collar on her neck was the only reason her mouth was silent. Just as her own article of clothing prevented her from seeing Beatrice's pleasure-filled face, this collar around her neck prevented her shameful voice from leaking out. Until that command. That's right, it wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault that her voice immediately cried out in an embarrassing yelp. She felt Battler's fingers violate her while Beatrice attacked her mouth with her lips and tongue, mercifully silencing her again. Erika had thoughts of resisting by biting back against Beatrice's lips, but those thoughts came too late. Beatrice had the idea that Erika would resist that way and promptly took that option away from her by preemptively closing her teeth around Erika's lower lip and taking advantage of the collar to prevent her from biting.
Erika's normally quick-thinking wit, her most prided treasure, had been stolen from her. Thieved away by a puff of smoke. Beatrice grasped the root of each of Erika's twin-tails with one hand each and forced her head to tilt sideways to violate Erika's mouth more deeply. Soon, Erika felt the lack of oxygen catching up to her and complained into Beatrice's mouth. Her pleas went unheeded by Beatrice, and Erika imagined that this would have made her smile contentedly had her mouth not been busy depriving her of oxygen. The edges of Erika's vision started darkening and the intense feeling between her legs suddenly felt very far away. Maybe it would be better if I lost consciousness Erika thought to herself as she ceased her pointless protest. As the limited view of her own underwear draped across her eyes sank closer to absolute darkness, her mouth was suddenly free, and she breathed in with all her might without even thinking about it.
Erika heaved in and out several times hoarsely. A harsh cough followed, accompanied by the return of the pangs of arousal between her legs and the undisturbed view of her own panties. That view was slowly changed to one of blonde hair and a confident face peering at her when Beatrice removed the article of clothing from her face.
“You should know better than most that the ability to speak is a precious thing. After all, you tried so hard....and so inadequately, to take away not just my voice, but Battler's too.” she whispered into Erika's ear. “That you imagined for even a second that being cast into oblivion and abandoned by Lady Bernkastel is the worst fate imaginable, is foolishness. You are a mere piece, and pieces are nothing but commodities traded between witches. Or sometimes merely a piece of garbage for a witch to play with before throwing it away” she continued. Beatrice motioned for Battler to stop using his hands to prod at Erika's lower regions.
Erika wasn't completely sure what Beatrice was getting at. “Why are you telling me this?!If you want me to disappear just get on with it!” she shouted, the tears returning to her cheeks. Battler grasped her thighs once again, and Beatrice shifted her hips upwards and turned her body around to face him.
“But I don't want you to disappear. I want to display you like a figurine and play with you endlessly like this. Bernkastel gave you to me the moment I asked for you. You disappointed her so much that it was an easy transaction to make, you know?”.
Erika choked up, unable to respond. She wanted to deny, deny, deny this cruel claim, but she knew in her heart that this was exactly the kind of callous cruelty her master reveled in. To drive the stake in just a bit deeper, Beatrice offered to say it in red, the only thing Erika valued as much as her master's affection. She shook her head from side to side and cried out, begging Beatrice to spare her just this one disgrace. Battler was starting to look uncomfortable with Beatrice's game again, having second thoughts. “Beato, do you think maybe that's taking it a bit too far?” His head tilted slightly towards Beatrice. “Battler, it would be extremely rude not to use this belated wedding gift from Lady Bernkastel. Besides, this is well within the rules of the game we are playing now” Beatrice placed her left hand on her hip and changed her tone from that of a cruel witch to her soft chick Beato persona, “Not to mention how insulting it would be to me. I thought that...since we were married now, you would support me, no matter what game we find ourselves playing.”
Battler wavered and sighed. He leaned over Erika's short frame to plant a kiss on Beatrice's forehead that signified the continuation of Erika's humiliation ritual. Beatrice promptly peeled the underwear off of Erika's face, almost certainly so she could witness the Golden Witch stand up, flushed face towering over her own. Beatrice glared down into her eyes as Battler placed his hand between Erika's legs again, rubbing the sensitive spot above her entrance. It was this vague and chaste language that Erika wanted to see in her mind. But in reality, the thing being rubbed was her pussy. The thought of that word being used at all caused Erika to cry out in pleasure and humiliation.
The over-stimulation forced a squeak out of the detective and caused her face to scrunch up, her expression resembling the face someone makes when sucking on a lemon. Erika tried to push away the unwanted pleasure she was feeling. Unseen by Erika, Beatrice had hooked her thumbs onto either side of her gold undergarments and wiggled them down past her knees. They landed without a sound directly on Erika's clenched jaw.
“If you need to bite down on something, perhaps you could use these” Beatrice suggested. Erika had no intention of biting down on an item as filthy as this, but it quickly became apparent that this wasn't a suggestion, but an order. Words the collar around her neck wouldn't allow her to disobey. Erika loosened her jaw involuntarily and took the golden fabric into her mouth. Having her mouth covered at the very least muffled her heavy breathing; Battler was still rubbing her down between her legs and it was becoming extremely difficult to ignore.
“Erikaaaa, this isn’t the first time you've been humiliated by having to chew on something gold, is itttt?” The words jabbed into Erika's ear just as her body tensed and shuddered in release, the lewd noises she made against her will were muffled by the makeshift gag in her mouth. A thin line of drool escaped past her lips, dampening the panties stuffed between them. Erika's eyes rolled upwards, catching a glimpse of Beatrice using the fact that the golden panties were clenched between her teeth to pull her feet up and out of them. Beatrice started kneeling down, a golden tuft seeming to glow in the sea of darkness beneath the flowing waves of her black and gold ballroom gown. Erika gasped, knowing her vision would soon be taken from her again, but she was losing the will to muster even token resistance. She was already accustomed to feeling a perverse pleasure from being scolded by her (former, she briefly thought, before stubbornly before pushing the idea aside) master, Bernkastel. Beatrice placed a thigh on each side of Erika's head ever so gently, applying just enough pressure so that Erika could no longer thrash her head about if she decided to do so again. There was a powerful scent invading Erika's nose, making her grimace, but she was grateful that her eyes didn't have to see what she knew was inches away from her face. It made it easier for her to seal herself off in a small corner of her mind, a place where she could pretend this wasn't happening.
That fragile inner sanctuary was broken by a faintly glowing gold light, gradually growing in intensity each passing second. Before long a small swarm of golden butterflies were fluttering about, turning the ballroom gown prison Erika was trapped under into a magical conservatory. Beatrice was saying something to Battler, but Erika couldn’t process any of it anymore.
She had no choice but to close her eyes; it was all she could do to try reconstructing her mental safe house. She didn't get the chance. The shackles binding her ankles burst into a shower of little golden butterflies and hands immediately shoved into her thighs, forcing Erika's legs back until her feet were inches from her head. Another set of hands, belonging to Beatrice, began running through her hair. At first, she savored the stimulation, before snapping back to resistance in her tiny room. I will not lose to the illusion of the witch Erika repeated over and over. She was confused and unsure of what was planned for her next, repeating her mantra in an attempt to steel herself against the unknown. When she felt a sharp tug on her hair, a pleasurable jolt ran up her spine as she felt her hair pulled snugly over her ankles and tightly stretched thighs, looping her twin tails around each leg once before she felt the tugging sensation of her hair being knotted in place. Her treasured hair was now snugly attached, knotted, to her ankles. Her thighs were already burning from being forced into this unfamiliar position, so too was her face with embarrassment. The hands holding her legs in the air let go, causing her hair to be pulled again by the weight of her own body. Erika winced at the pain coming from her scalp. Erika's body reacted to the pull of gravity, moving her legs back to the sides of her own head as far as she could muster, relieving the pain of her hair being pulled and redoubling the fire in her thighs. Erika was never much of an athlete, she always preferred books to sports, so she had no idea how long she could hold this position. Probably not very long. She was still trying to keep her mental stronghold guarded, but several things were chipping away at its exterior.
First, the struggle between two different forms of physical pain, at least something she had some control over. Second, her shame over feeling physical pleasure when Battler touched her...or when Beatrice had groped and pulled at her hair, feelings without choice. She had always felt a perverse sense of joy when she was demeaned by Bernkastel. The fear of being abandoned, the strongest weapon one could wield against her defenses, looming large in her psyche, persistently nagged at her. She reminded herself that there was no red declaring Bernkastel had sold her out, and she let out a deep breath. Beatrice would surely have hit her with a red that powerful from the beginning, were she able to. Erika managed a smug grin through the pain. Erika would hold out in her inner sanctuary, Beatrice would have used the red to hurt her long ago if she could, Erika repeated to herself. As if she could read her mind, and as if on cue, Beatrice gave her the red she wanted to hear the least
“Bernkastel gave you to me as a gift after your adorably cute, misguided, foolish, pathetic failure of an attempt to break the witch's illusion”
Erika's ears were filled with the sound of shattering red glass, and her body felt something hot poking against her inner thigh. She lost any connection to her physical body, focusing solely on the fact that she was given over like a piece of property, offered up as tribute to the witch. Her eyes and mouth dried out in an instant.
“You exist now to serve Battler and I. Eat.”
Erika's tongue immediately went to work on Beatrice, her mouth already in a position to fulfill that command. As much as she hated this, her body complied with the orders she was given, her tongue lashing out into Beatrice, producing an immediate high-pitched moan. This taste... wasn't something Erika wanted to fill her mouth with. There wasn't much time to dwell on this, as Battler crashed forward into Erika, hilting himself inside in one thrust.
At once, Erika felt full and empty at the same time. The red piercing her mind precisely when Battler entered her. She shuddered in pleasure as her body betrayed her thoughts, mouth continuing to obey her new masters' orders. Erika’s soul was crushed, her sanctuary shattered to pieces. The small part of her that grounded existence in her loyalty to Bernkastel was crushed into dust. Lady Beatrice had spoken that red so matter-of-factly that Erika felt like she was staring at a single blade of a ceiling fan after one too many drinks. Erika moaned through her still full mouth as battler increased the intensity of his thrusting in and out her of petite body. Beatrice grinned at the extra stimulation, beginning to breathe more heavily and grind against Erika’s mouth. Erika pushed her tongue around in a circular motion, her hips pushed themselves forward to meet Battler’s as much as they could manage, balanced against the straining of her long hair being pulled at the root. Erika began salivating heavily, her tongue taking on its own life and moving in ways that would never have come naturally to her.
Erika pictured herself in a perverse home video, made for Beatrice and Battler to get off to later, when she was paralyzed and engulfed in pleasurable stasis. A frozen moment where she was an instrument for both their pleasure, utilized like an inanimate statue to be gazed at by onlookers. The feeling that there were dozens, if not hundreds of eyes watching her welled up in Erika’s broken mind. This was the closest Erika had ever felt to not existing, to being in the darkness of oblivion. Every nerve ending and neuron in her body was overwhelming, and her muscles tensed up, making small adjustments, achieving an equilibrium between pain in her scalp and pain in her thighs. Contrasting with the pain needling at her was the immense feeling of pleasure that had been slowly building up inside her. She felt hot and her breathing was increasingly labored. She vaguely recalled that this was what an orgasm felt like. Her face thrashed and twisted against Beatrice. Her eyes snapped open when she remembered who was sitting on her face. Everything was so foggy, and it was hard to keep track of anything other than her approaching release. Erika groaned as the fleeting thought skipped across her mind. It was becoming difficult to concentrate on what was really happening; Battler fucking her senseless.
Whatever drug she had been forced to inhale was still weighing heavily on her mind. Erika wasn't herself anymore. At least not the self that she took so much pride in, her intellectual front, the self that identified as The Detective. The self that was concerned with the who, what when, where how and why was evaporating. It was all being replaced by her unwilling arousal, her little gray cells being turned off one by one by pleasure. She squeezes out a muffled high pitch squeak, her last reservations bathed in a hot white light...
Erika's body went limp for a moment, like a puppet with its strings cut. Battler ceased his thrusting, looking up at Beatrice. “Beato, I think something might be wrong.”. Beatrice, who was gently biting her lower lip with her eyes closed seemed not to be concerned. Silently, she lowered her hand down to the bottom of her dress and gently lifted it up, revealing Erika's flushed face between her legs. “She's perfectly all right.” she said, raising her hips off Erika's face. Battler's face registered surprise: he could never have imagined Erika making such a face during their confrontations on the game board. Her eyes were half closed, struggling to stay open. A significant quantity of drool was seeping from the corners of her lips which were contorted into a twisted kind of smile. Despite all the crying , struggling and gnashing of teeth Erika had put on display mere minutes ago, she seemed almost too content now. It was like a switch had been flipped, and now Erika was a completely different person.
Beatrice lowered herself back down onto Erika’s face and her tongue immediately went back to work without hesitation. “You should continue, Battler. Don't keep her waiting” Beatrice breathed out.
“It’s getting kind of tough doing it like this. Could we maybe untie her legs? Battler responded. At this point he was just as invested in this story as Beatrice was. Beatrice was delighted to see Battler invested now, where before he needed to practically be begged to take part. Beatrice raised her right hand and produced a pair of scissors out of thin air.
She scooted back behind Erika to reveal her obscene face. “I want to see her face while I do this” she cooed gleefully as she readied the pair of scissors, taking time and consideration choosing where to make the cut. She placed them near her ankles where Erika was bound up by her own hair that she took such pride in. Beatrice wanted to see if, even in this state, she could get some sort of reaction out of her. She moved the blade further and further away from Erika’s ankles, down past the halfway length of her twin tails. Finally, she settled on a spot perhaps five inches from her scalp.
The scissors made their “snip--snip” sound and Erika’s right leg fell back into a natural pose. Beatrice didn’t care about that though, and she witnessed the main attraction she had wanted. Erika’s hazy half lidded eyes twitched uncontrollably at the sound of the scissors doing their work.
“Ooh…agh-hh” was all she could squeak out, barely audible sounds of suffering reaching everyone’s ears. Her dead, lewd eyes briefly contained shadows of their usual appearance before going dark again.
At the mere sight of this, Beatrice arched her back, shivered, and let out a low moan. After a moment of relishing the feeling, the Golden Witch straightened herself out and magicked another item into her left hand. It was her stylish pipe, used for all sorts of different magic. Her fingers daintily glued to the stem, she placed her mouth to the bit and inhaled deeply. Moving her head directly above Erika’s empty eyes, Beatrice exhaled another long stream of smoke directly at the nose and mouth of Bernkastel’s former piece. As a result, Erika’s eyes deadened even more, and her lithe body shivered ever so slightly. The scissors blade moved to the other long bundle of lush hair tied to Erika’s other ankle. With much less building of anticipation or foreplay, Beatrice immediately made a second cut of the exact same length as the last. Erika’s left leg fell as well to a natural resting position. She looked ridiculous with long lengths of deep blue hair hanging off her ankles.
Beatrice, now in a state of ecstasy, gestured toward Battler, who followed her lead. He easily rolled the blue-haired girl onto her stomach, Beatrice yanking her face into a position where Erika could still service her. Battler positioned himself at her entrance, looking to Beatrice for a command to continue, which she gave without hesitation, nodding her head with malice.
Battler thrust into Erika with abandon, her body responding to the sudden stimulation with thick and uncharacteristic moans. The second spout of mysterious smoke was hitting her hard, making her already overstimulated body even more sensitive. Her head wanted to bury itself in sheets that had appeared below her at some point, but Beatrice was firmly grasping her head and shoving it back into her pussy roughly. Erika could only moan into it, physically unable to concentrate on a task like that while Battler roughly slapped against her ass. The pounding echoed in the acoustics of a cathedral, for all to hear in gory detail. Erika’s lost body wailed shamefully in ecstasy. Both Battler and Erika were both rapidly approaching a lewd conclusion while Beatrice and unseen viewers looked on, some aroused by this tale, some disgusted. Erika, strips of cut hair flopping along her legs, and Battler forcing her legs to make such movements were both pieces in this erotic script.
Instead of Battler calling the name of the body he was penetrating, he called the name of the Golden Witch when he came. Following an agreed upon conclusion he pulled out and shuffled up to Erika’s chest, shooting out bursts of semen into the cut-down blue hair on Erika’s head. Erika herself shuddered and creaked, her whole body tensing up while her precious locks were painted over. Beatrice sighed and smiled contentedly, and the otherworldly spectators gave a mixture of polite applause and silence. Battler collapsed into the arms of the Golden Witch, and Erika slipped into total unconsciousness. Her body was all used up, covered in sweat and cum. The scene faded to black, and the curtains fell.
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Bernkastel and Lambdadelta were the only two onlookers who remained in their seats in the otherwise empty theater. Lambdadelta clutched a nearly empty bag of popcorn and Bernkastel daintily held a teacup with nothing but dregs remaining. Lambdadelta seemed to be in a cheery mood, in contrast to Bernkastel’s sour disposition. “What’s the matter Berny-Bern? Was the show not to your liking?” Lambda crowed, all too familiar with Bernkastel’s tastes.
Bernkastel turned her grayed-out eyes to Lambdadelta and deadpanned, “They weren’t hard enough on her. I was at least expecting blood to be shed, if not guro. Or perhaps watersports.”. Lambdadelta tilted her head and grinned, “Well I think it was a bit much. It’s one thing to drug someone, but to do it twice in one story? If they broke her too hard, we won’t get a sequel!”
“Nonsense” Bernkastel spat, “for her incompetence and hubris in the sixth game she deserved whatever the most depraved mind from across the sea of fragments could imagine.”
“Hmmmm, perhaps. But I suppose we won’t know what happens next until Beatrice knows how her tale was received. Maybe by next week we’ll know where this can go.” Lambda said matter-of-factually. Bern coldly answered,
“Maybe. Until then I need to prepare for my own game.”