Call me invis o/ I'm 26, and deep in the bowels of mcyt/SMP fandom.
You can find me on ao3, where I post kinky cubito fics.
Feel free to drop into my asks with ideas/prompts/anything else - I am always happy to interact^^ (no promises on fulfilling prompts though, my brain is a fickle creature)
kinks n things I'm not comfortable writing about: noncon/dubcon (cnc is absolutely fine if the consensual part is made very clear, and apparently Scott Goldsmith is my exception here bc ofc he is); scat; bimbofication, forcefem, and related kinks; age gaps; feedism; more tbd - in general I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum and will just ignore liberally <3 (Also, just because I don't write about these kinks, doesn't mean I won't interact with them at all)
A couple disclaimers: I will only ever write about cubitos, never ccs. (I have become increasingly chill about rpf ever since the charity event though - that was my canon event, I fear.) If you are underage please block me and do not interact. If I find out that you are underage I will block you.
#invis_fic -> my fics
#invis_talk -> textposts
#invis_ask -> answered asks
#invis_scrib -> drabbles/ ideas
#invis_art -> drawings
#kept bird au -> Emperor Scar & Concubine/ Strategist/ Assassin Grian AU; not likely to ever become a complete fic, this lives as Tumblr posts and one-shots over on my ao3
#invis_trickortreat -> tiny drabbles for Halloween (the best holiday, fight me)
#invis_wrapped_drabbles -> ask game based on the songs in my spotify wrapped
#helpfulđ» -> writing/tech advice rbs
#[emoji]non -> anons <3 (feel free to grab an emoji for yourself if you feel like sticking around - anything that isn't tagged below is fair game^^)
another psa with more vitriol in it â„ïžâ„ïž because someone who just posts ai images just followed me and tried to pretend that they just found them online and didn't have credits (which if you're posting someone else's art you better have the artist's @ and permission to repost it or i'm blocking you too) FUCK AI!! GO FUCK YOURSELF!! FUCK OFF!! JACK OFF TO WHATEVER SLOP YOU GENERATE!! YOU DON'T GET TO SEE ACTUAL REAL HOT PEOPLE IF YOU DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE DAMAGE YOU CAUSE TO THE ENVIRONMENT, TO THE OUTSOURCED LABOR IN POORER COUNTRIES TO DO ALL THE AI SLOP WORK/TRAUMATIC ID-ING WORK NO ONE WANTS TO DO HERE, ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO AREN'T HERE ANYMORE BECAUSE OF THESE PRODUCTS, AND THE ARTISTS YOU STEAL FROM!! ONLY PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT PEOPLE OTHER THEN THEMSELF GET ACCESS TO MY PAGE â„ïžâ„ïžâ„ïž teehee, just so the record is straight. rot â„ïž
Tags: Public, praise, gentle biting, there's really not that much going on other than Apokuna eats Cherri out on a balcony under her dress.
The grand hall of Castle Soluna stretched endlessly toward vaulted ceilings painted with scenes of ancient conquests, but Princess Cherri could not have named a single one of them if her life depended on it. Her attention had drifted miles away from the diplomatic proceedings taking place at the far end of the room, where her father's advisors debated territorial disputes with visiting dignitaries from the neighboring kingdom. Her mind was consumed by the woman standing three paces behind her, close enough that Cherri could smell the faint scent of leather and steel that clung to her knight's armor.
Apokuna. Her lady in hand. Her sworn protector. Her everything.
Cherri's fingers found the silk of her own long sleeves, and she wound the fabric between her thumb and forefinger, staring at the intricate embroidery along the hem of her dress. The gown was a masterpiece of royal tailoring: layers upon layers of silk that cascaded from her waist to pool at her feet, the bodice fitted and beaded with tiny crystals that caught the candlelight. It was beautiful. Impractical. And, she thought with a secret thrill, the perfect camouflage for what she desperately wanted to happen.
She felt more than heard Apokuna shift behind her. The soft scrape of armored boots against marble. The barely perceptible change in breathing. Years of intimacy had taught Cherri to read her knight's body like a sacred text, to interpret the subtle language of her presence without need for words.
"Your Highness." Apokuna's voice was barely a murmur, meant for Cherri's ears alone. "You're fidgeting."
Cherri's lips curved. She didn't turn around. "I'm bored."
"The negotiations will conclude within the hour."
"That's an hour too long." Cherri let her hand drop to her side, then carefully, deliberately, let it drift backward until her fingers grazed against Apokuna's gauntlet. The metal was cool through her silk glove, but the touch sent warmth flooding through her chest. "I can think of far better uses for our time."
She caught the sharp intake of breath. Saw, in her peripheral vision, Apokuna's head tilt slightly downward, the knight's dark hair falling forward to partially obscure her face. They had discussed this. Planned it. The risk made Cherri's pulse quicken, made her skin flush with anticipation that she struggled to hide.
"Cherri," Apokuna breathed, and the use of her name rather than her title sent electricity cascading down the princess's spine. "You're serious."
"I've never been more serious about anything." Cherri's voice dropped to match her knight's whisper. "The balcony. Behind the eastern pillar. Now."
She didn't wait for a response. With the practiced grace of royalty, she turned and walked toward the arched doorway that led to the balcony overlooking Soluna's moonlit gardens. She moved with unhurried steps, nodded politely at the courtiers she passed, smiled benevolently at the servants carrying trays of wine. No one would question a princess seeking fresh air during a tedious diplomatic session. No one would think twice about her knight following at the proper distance, ever vigilant, ever devoted.
The balcony was empty. Of course it was, the autumn air carried a chill that most courtiers found disagreeable, and the gardens below were lit only by the pale glow of the twin moons. Cherri walked past the ornate stone benches, past the potted topiaries shaped like mythical beasts, until she reached the eastern corner where a massive marble pillar offered concealment from any curious eyes that might glance their way.
She stopped. Waited. Heard Apokuna's footsteps approach.
"You're reckless," Apokuna said quietly, but her voice held no true reproach. "Someone could see."
"Then we'll have to be quiet." Cherri turned to face her knight, tilting her head back to meet Apokuna's amber eyes. In the moonlight, they gleamed like polished honey, warm and wanting. "Unless you'd rather return to the hall and listen to them drone on about grain tariffs?"
Apokuna's lips twitched. Her hand came up, gauntlet removed at some point during the walk, and her bare fingers brushed along Cherri's jaw with heartbreaking tenderness. "You know I'd rather die than deny you anything."
"Then deny me nothing." Cherri pressed her cheek into Apokuna's palm, feeling the rough calluses that came from years of sword training. "Tell me what you want."
A muscle in Apokuna's jaw tightened. Her eyes darkened, the amber turning to fire. "You know what I want. What I've wanted since the moment I swore my sword to your family."
"Say it."
"You." The word escaped Apokuna like a prayer, reverent and hungry all at once. "Every part of you. I want to taste you, Cherri. I want to feel you come apart beneath my tongue and know that no one else will ever have you this way."
Cherri's breath shuddered out of her. She reached up, took Apokuna's hand, and guided it to the hidden fastening at the side of her dress, a clever construction that allowed the outer layer to fall away while the inner shifts remained in place. But that wasn't what she wanted tonight. Tonight, she wanted the dress to stay on, wanted the scandalous concealment of fabric hiding what her knight would do to her.
"Leave it," she commanded softly. "I want to feel you through the layers. Want to know that anyone who sees us will think we're doing nothing more than having a quiet conversation."
Apokuna's nostrils flared. Her hands trembled slightly as she processed the request, the thrill of it, the forbidden nature of what they were about to do in a space that was public even if currently unoccupied. Then she nodded once, sharply, and dropped to her knees before her princess.
The marble was cold and hard beneath her, but Apokuna barely noticed. Her entire being was focused on the woman before her, on the miles of silk that covered legs she had memorized in private moments stolen between official duties. She gathered the fabric in her hands, lifting layer after layer until she could duck beneath them, until she was enveloped in darkness and warmth and the intoxicating scent of Cherri's arousal.
"I've got you," Apokuna murmured against Cherri's inner thigh, her lips brushing sensitive skin that jumped at the contact. "I've always got you."
Cherri's response was a soft moan, quickly bitten back. Her hands found Apokuna's shoulders through the dress, gripping tightly, steadying herself as her knight's mouth traveled higher. The world narrowed to sensation: the cool night air on her face, the warmth of fabric surrounding her lower half, and the wet heat of Apokuna's tongue as it finally found its mark.
No teasing. No buildup. Apokuna devoured her with single-minded focus, her tongue working in broad strokes that made Cherri's knees buckle. One strong hand gripped Cherri's hip to steady her, fingers digging into flesh through the silk, while the other traveled upward, sliding along Cherri's stomach, ribs, until it found her breast and palmed it through the bodice.
"Apokunaâ" Cherri's voice broke. She clapped her hand over her own mouth, muffling the sounds that threatened to escape. They weren't alone in the palace. At any moment, someone could wander onto the balcony for their own escape from the diplomatic tedium. The risk made everything sharper, brighter, more intense.
Apokuna hummed against her, the vibration traveling through Cherri's core. Her tongue found that spot, that perfect combination of pressure and speed that she had discovered through months of intimate exploration, and she worked it with devastating expertise. She could feel Cherri getting close, could read the princess's body with the same precision she used to read opponents in combat.
But she wasn't ready to let her fall yet.
Apokuna pulled back slightly, and Cherri whimpered at the loss. Then teeth grazed over her inner thigh, gentle and deliberate, nipping at the tender flesh in a series of bites that sent electricity cascading up her spine. Not hard enough to bruise. Just enough to make Cherri's entire body jerk with sensation.
"Quiet," Apokuna whispered into the heated space beneath the dress. "You must stay quiet for me, my princess. Can you do that?"
Another bite, higher this time, closer to where Cherri desperately needed her mouth.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes," Cherri gasped into her palm. "Yes, I canâI can be quiet, pleaseâ"
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop."
Apokuna smiled against Cherri's skin, then leaned in and resumed her worship. Her tongue returned to its work, sliding through slick folds, circling the bundle of nerves that made Cherri shake. She could taste her princess's essence, sweet and musky, coating her tongue and lips. She had never tasted anything so perfect. Never wanted anything more than to drown in this moment, in this woman.
"You taste like paradise," Apokuna breathed against Cherri's core, the words vibrating through sensitive flesh. "My royal nectar. I could feast on you for hours."
Cherri's hips bucked, seeking more pressure, more friction. Apokuna held her steady, controlling the pace, denying her princess the rhythm she needed to reach completion. This was her domain now, her sovereign territory, and she would tend to it however she saw fit.
She slowed her tongue, focusing on long, deliberate strokes that made Cherri's breath catch. Then, without warning, she sucked hard, pulling the sensitive bud into her mouth and releasing it with an obscene pop that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet night air.
Cherri's whole body spasmed. Her hand flew from her own mouth to grip Apokuna's shoulder, her fingernails digging through the fabric hard enough to sting. "I'mâI'm going toâ"
"Not yet." Apokuna's voice was firm despite its whisper. Her teeth returned to Cherri's thighs, biting and nibbling, marking the flesh with love bites that would bloom purple by morning. Each nip sent Cherri higher without pushing her over, building pressure that made her vision blur.
"Apokuna, please, I can'tâI needâ"
"What do you need?" Another bite, dangerously close to her core. "Tell me. Command me."
"You. I need you to let meâ"
Apokuna's tongue returned, but slowly now, torturously, tracing every fold and crease with deliberate attention. She was mapping Cherri's pleasure, committing every reaction to memory, learning exactly how to keep her princess balanced on the edge without sending her over.
"I could do this forever," she murmured. "Keep you here, trembling and desperate, knowing that your pleasure belongs to me. That your body rises and falls at my command."
"Devil," Cherri gasped. "You're a devil."
"Your devil." Apokuna's tongue pressed flat against Cherri's clit, holding firm without moving. "Say it. Say that I'm yours."
"You're mine. My knight. My protector. Myâohâ" Cherri's words dissolved into a moan as Apokuna finally, finally began to move again, her tongue working in tight circles that built the pressure back to its peak.
"That's right." The words vibrated against Cherri's flesh. "Yours. Always yours. Now come for me, my princess. Let me taste your pleasure."
Cherri's release crashed through her like a wave, stealing her breath and her sanity all at once. She clamped her hand over her own mouth again, muffling the scream that tore from her throat. Her body shook, her knees buckled, and only Apokuna's strong grip kept her upright as pleasure rippled through her in endless pulses.
Apokuna worked her through it, gentling her touch as Cherri's spasms slowed, coaxing every last tremor of pleasure from her princess's body. She could feel Cherri's slick coating her chin, her lips, her cheeks, and she wore it like a badge of honor. Like a proclamation.
When Cherri finally stilled, trembling with aftershocks, Apokuna carefully lowered the layers of the dress and emerged from beneath them. She rose to her feet, her knees protesting the cold marble, and found Cherri watching her with glazed, satisfied eyes.
The moonlight caught the wetness on Apokuna's face, and Cherri reached out with a trembling hand to touch her knight's lips. Her essence gleamed there, unmistakable and intimate.
"You're wearing me," Cherri whispered, her voice raw. "Like a cosmetic. Like a claim."
Apokuna caught Cherri's fingers and pressed a kiss to them, not bothering to wipe her face. "I'll never hide what we are. What I am to you."
The sound of voices drifted toward them from the hall, courtiers spilling out for their own breath of air, laughing and chatting about the evening's entertainment. Cherri's eyes widened, but Apokuna was already moving, positioning herself beside the princess in a stance of protective vigilance that would look entirely proper to any observer.
Except for the evidence that still shone on her lips, visible to anyone who looked closely enough.
"Someone will see," Cherri hissed.
"Let them." Apokuna's hand found hers, squeezing once before releasing. "Let them wonder why their princess's knight wears her pleasure so openly. Let them speculate about what happens behind closed doorsâor marble pillars."
Happy pride to asexuals and aromantics and agenders and everyone on the various spectrums.
Happy pride to asexuals who are sex-repulsed. Who donât write smut. Who donât have wild kinks. Who canât relate to âsmut to good it must be written by an asexualâ or âcoaches donât playâ or any other joke. Who donât want to try it just once.
Happy pride to aromantics who get uncomfortable about it. Who are romance-repulsed. Who arenât in a QPR. who donât jokingly flirt. Who donât ship characters.
Happy pride to agenders who arenât perfectly androgynous. Who donât use they/them exclusively. Who arenât 100% confident all the time. Who donât feel comfortable being gendered anyway.
And of course happy pride to all the ones who are and do. But especially to everyone who canât be easily joked about or accepted into a âclose enoughâ category đ
Have I ever mentioned that I hate misogyny, racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism islamaphobia, xenophobia, and anti-Semitism?
Have I ever mentioned that if you accept or participate in bigotry that I don't want you following me or interacting with me? That I think you're as repugnant as your beliefs?
Have I ever mentioned that if you're a conservative or centrist I don't want you on my blog?
Have I ever mentioned that I don't want Trump supporters, Reform or Conservative party supporters, Israel government supporters, terfs, American Republicans, genocide deniers, or any type of fascist interacting with me?
I have mentioned it? Good. I'm saying it again. Conservatives are stupid, unattractive, unsafe partners, and awful at sex. They also can't read and don't actually believe in consent. They can fuck right off.
the glittering skin and entrails of beasts not commonly found and their killers - MajorBeans DD FIC
AO3 LINK
c/w wound fucking/ intox/ light dubcon/ and a whole lot of blood [also questionable very light refrence to canniablism potentially?]
When he was young, Joel was told stories about unicorns.
Majestic creatures of the wood, glittering and dazzling and untameable with magical healing and purification powers said to be able to cure any illness with their single spiral horn. To a hunter of their small village, there would be no greater trophy, no greater prize, no greater accomplishment than harvesting a unicorn horn.
And nowâŠ
That very horn - glittering and pearlescent in the dead of night like the glow of the moon, spiralling roughly like a wizened oak trunk, devoid of any elegance or smoothness that is in the stories - pierces the chest of the hunting party's leader. The tip punctures through his back, and drips red. He was the last one standing bar Joel.
Tags: pet play/pup play, degrading, praise, biting, fingering, nipple sucking, bottom Apo, Top Cherri, Apo calls Cherri master, hypnokink-ish near the end,
This was supposed to be short, something came over me, and now it's 5592 words.
Enjoy!! 𧥠:3 (hopefully it's good)
Town Pity never really slept.
Even at night, the wind dragged dust through the crooked streets, rattling loose shutters and carrying the distant creak of old signs. The town smelled like dry wood, horse sweat, and smoke that had sunk into the walls years ago and never left. Apo Kuna had grown up there. Cherri could tell by the way she moved through the house without looking, stepping over warped floorboards that squealed too loudly and ducking beneath the low doorway to the kitchen automatically.
The house itself surprised her. She had expected something cramped. Poor. A dying man's shack. Instead, it was large, sprawling in a tired sort of way. Two floors. Several bedrooms. Furniture coated in dust sheets. The remnants of a family that had once mattered. It made sense, she supposed. Apo's father had been important in Town Pity before he died.
Before Cherri arrived to kill him.
The thought still irritated her.
All that anticipation, all that riding through dirt and heat, and then opening the front door to find not her target, but his daughter standing there with swollen eyes and a pickaxe in her trembling hands.
Now, days later, Cherri sat in the dim living room sharpening a knife against a whetstone while Apo Kuna wandered around lighting oil lamps one by one. Warm amber light filled the house slowly, flickering against the walls.
Apo looked soft in it.
Too soft.
That pale dress she wore dragged against the wooden floor. Her hair was loose tonight, falling over her shoulders in messy waves. Cherri watched her from beneath lowered lashes, expression unreadable.
Apo Kuna feared her. That much was obvious. She flinched sometimes when Cherri moved too suddenly. Watched her carefully. Spoke gently, like trying not to upset a dangerous animal.
Good.
That was correct.
But then Apo did things that made absolutely no sense. Like bringing Cherri tea without being asked. Or smiling at her hesitantly after meals. Or sitting too close on the porch while the sun went down. And tonightâ
âWellâŠâ Apo lingered near the staircase, fingers twisting together. âThereâs enough rooms upstairs for you to take whichever you want.â Cherri hummed without looking up. âBut,â Apo continued, voice quieter now, âif youâd rather, we could just share mine.â
The scraping of the blade against stone stopped. Silence settled over the room. Cherri slowly lifted her head. Apo immediately stiffened under her gaze.
There it is, Cherri thought. Fear.
A rabbit staring at a wolf, and still offering itself closer.
âShare your bed?â Cherri repeated.
Apo swallowed. âOnly if you want. I just thought maybeâŠâ She laughed nervously. âIt gets cold here at night.â
Cherri stared at her for a long moment.
This girl was strange.
Not stupid, no, Apo Kuna was smarter than she pretended to be, but strange in the way untamed animals were strange. Approaching things that could hurt them out of curiosity. Shaking while still wagging their tail.
An untamed puppy.
The idea curled warm and wicked inside Cherriâs chest.
Maybe she could train her.
Push her a little.
See where her limits were.
A slow smirk pulled at Cherriâs lips.
Maybe she could teach Apo Kuna exactly who she belonged to.
Maybe she could hypnotize her into obedience so complete Apo would smile while kneeling.
The thought was intoxicating.
Apo shifted nervously beneath the silence. âYou donât have to if you donâtââ
âIâll sleep with you,â Cherri interrupted smoothly.
Apo blinked. âOh.â
The knife clicked shut in Cherriâs hands. She rose from the chair slowly, tall and deliberate, watching Apo instinctively step backward.
Good girl.
Every movement Apo made betrayed her fear even when her mouth tried to hide it. Cherri followed her upstairs at an easy pace. The floorboards groaned beneath their feet. Apoâs room sat at the end of the hallway, warm lamp light spilling from inside. It was undeniably hers.
Pressed flowers hung drying beside the window. Old books stacked beside the bed. A faded shawl draped over a chair. The room smelled faintly of lavender and dust.
Apo hovered awkwardly near the mattress. âYou can take the wall side if you want.â
âSo polite,â Cherri murmured.
Apo glanced at her uncertainly, unable to tell if she was being mocked. That uncertainty delighted Cherri. She removed her fingerless gloves, eyes never leaving Apoâs face. Apo watched every movement carefully, like prey trying to predict whether the predator was hungry.
âYouâre scared of me,â Cherri said casually.
Apoâs shoulders tensed. âA little.â
âOnly a little?â
Apo looked away. âYou came here to kill my father.â
âAnd if he wasnât already dead?â
The silence answered for her. Cherri stepped closer. Apo stayed still, but barely. Cherri could see the tension in her jaw, the slight hitch in her breathing.
Interesting. Most people either groveled or fought back. Apo simply endured.
âYou still invited me into your bed,â Cherri said softly.
Apo laughed once under her breath, nervous again. âWell⊠you havenât killed me yet.â
Yet. The word lingered between them.
Cherri reached up suddenly, hooking two fingers beneath Apoâs chin.
Apo froze.
There it is again.
Fear. But not rejection.
Cherri tilted her head slightly, studying her face closely as if trying to solve a puzzle.
Pretty thing.
Far prettier up close.
âYou trust too easily,â Cherri murmured.
Apoâs throat bobbed as she swallowed. âMaybe.â
The lamp on the nightstand flickered once. Cherriâs fingers still rested beneath Apoâs chin. Not gripping. Not forcing. Just⊠there. A suggestion of control. Apoâs pulse beat against Cherriâs knuckles, quick and shallow, like a bird trapped in cupped hands.
âYou want to be tamed,â Cherri said again, quieter now.
Apoâs lips parted. No sound came out.
Cherri watched the conflict move across her face in micro-expressions, the slight furrow between her brows, the way her lower lip trembled before she bit down on it. Fear and something else. Something that made her stay rooted to the floorboards even though every instinct had to be screaming at her to run.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
âI donât know what you mean,â Apo whispered.
âLiar.â
The word landed soft. Almost affectionate. Apo flinched anyway, but her eyes, those swollen, red-rimmed eyes, didnât drop. They held Cherriâs gaze with a desperation that bordered on pleading.
Please, they seemed to say. Please understand what I canât say out loud.
Cherri understood.
She understood better than Apo could possibly know.
âSit on the bed,â Cherri said, withdrawing her fingers.
Apo hesitated for exactly three heartbeats. Then she moved, lowering herself onto the edge of the mattress with the careful stiffness of someone who expected the floor to collapse beneath her at any moment. Her hands folded in her lap. Her knees pressed together. The pale dress pooled around her ankles.
Cherri stayed standing. Looking down at her.
The height difference mattered. Apo had to crane her neck slightly to meet Cherriâs eyes, and that small physical adjustment shifted something in the roomâs energy. Made Apo smaller. Made Cherri larger.
âYouâve been taking care of me since I arrived,â Cherri said. âTea. Meals. Sitting with me on the porch.â
Apo nodded. âYouâre a guest.â
âIâm not a guest.â Cherriâs voice sharpened. âIâm the woman who came here to murder your father. Say it.â
Apoâs jaw tightened. âYouâre the woman who came here to murder my father.â
âAnd yet you invited me into your bed.â
âYes.â
âWhy?â
Silence stretched between them. The lamp flickered againâwind finding its way through the old window frames. Somewhere downstairs, a shutter banged against the side of the house.
Then Apo spoke, and her voice broke on the first word.
âBecause you looked at me like I mattered.â
Cherri went still.
âWhen you walked through that door,â Apo continued, staring at her own hands now, âyou didnât look at me like everyone else does. Like I was just⊠the daughter. The leftover. The thing that stayed behind when everyone important left or died. You looked at me like I was worth noticing.â
âI looked at you like prey,â Cherri said flatly.
Apoâs shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. âAt least prey gets seen.â
The words hung in the air.
Cherri felt something shift in her chest. Not softening, she didnât soften. But recognition. This girl wasnât just strange. She was starved. Touch-starved. Attention-starved. The kind of desperate that made people do foolish things like invite death into their bedroom and offer it the warmer side of the mattress.
âLie back,â Cherri said.
Apoâs breath caught. âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â
âI donâtââ
âYou invited me here.â Cherri tilted her head. âYou said it gets cold at night. You offered to share. So lie back.â
The command settled over Apo like a blanket. Heavy. Warm. She didnât move for a long moment, and Cherri watched the war play out behind her eyes. Fear versus want. Sense versus need.
Want won.
Apo eased herself backward onto the mattress. Her hair fanned out against the pillow. Her dress rode up slightly, exposing her calves, and she made no move to tug it back down. Her hands stayed at her sides, fingers curled loosely against the quilt.
Cherri climbed onto the bed.
She didnât rush. Every movement was slow, deliberate, not the slowness of hesitation but the slowness of someone who knew exactly what she was doing and saw no reason to hurry. She positioned herself above Apo, one knee pressing into the mattress between Apoâs thighs, one hand planted beside Apoâs head.
Apo stared up at her with wide, wet eyes.
âYouâre shaking,â Cherri observed.
âI know.â
âAre you scared?â
âYes.â
âDo you want me to stop?â
The question caught Apo off guard. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Cherri watched her wrestle with it, watched her throat bob as she swallowed twice in quick succession. Then, very quietlyâ
âNo.â
Cherri smiled. It wasnât a kind smile. It was the smile of a hunter whoâd just watched her prey walk willingly into the snare. âGood girl,â she murmured.
Apoâs whole body reacted. Her spine arched slightly off the mattress, just an inch, just for a second. Her fingers twisted into the quilt. A small sound escaped her throat, not quite a gasp, not quite a whimper. Something in between. Something that made Cherriâs smile widen.
There it is.
The praise had landed exactly where Cherri had aimed it. Right in that hollow, starving place Apo carried inside her.
âYou like that,â Cherri said. Not a question.
Apo turned her face away, pressing her cheek into the pillow. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âLook at me.â
Apo didnât move. Cherri reached down and caught Apoâs chin again, firmer this time. She turned Apoâs face back toward her. Apoâs skin flushed pink and hot beneath Cherriâs fingertips.
âDonât hide from me,â Cherri said. âIf youâre going to be my pet, you donât get to hide.â
âPet?â Apoâs voice cracked on the word.
âPuppy,â Cherri corrected, testing the shape of it in her mouth. âA stray little puppy whoâs been waiting for someone to bring her inside.â
Apoâs eyes glazed with tears. Or something else. Cherri couldnât tell yet, and that uncertainty made her pulse kick faster.
âYou donât even know me,â Apo whispered.
âI know you invited a killer into your bed because youâd rather be used than ignored.â Cherri leaned closer, her breath ghosting against Apoâs lips. âI know you flinch when I move fast but lean in when I talk slow. I know youâve been watching me sharpen my knife and imagining what these hands could do to you.â Apoâs breathing went ragged.
âAm I wrong?â Cherri asked.
No answer.
âAm I wrong?â Louder now.
âNo,â Apo choked out. âNo, youâre not wrong.â
The confession seemed to break something open inside her. Her body sagged against the mattress. Her thighs parted slightly, just enough for Cherriâs knee to press closer against the warmth between them. Her eyes, still wet, fixed on Cherriâs face with something that looked almost like hope.
Cherri lowered her mouth to Apoâs ear.
âThen be a good puppy for me.â
Apo whimpered. The sound went straight through Cherriâs chest and settled low in her stomach. She pressed her lips to the skin just below Apoâs ear, not kissing, exactly. Just resting there. Feeling the frantic beat of Apoâs pulse against her mouth.
âIâm going to tell you what to do,â Cherri murmured against her skin. âAnd youâre going to do it. Because you want to. Because being told what to do is the only time your head goes quiet. Isnât it.â Â Apo nodded, a jerky little movement that rubbed her cheek against Cherriâs hair. âUse your words, puppy.â
âYes.â The word came out strangled. âYes, itâs the only time.â
âGood girl.â
Apo made that sound again. That half-gasp, half-whimper that told Cherri exactly how much the praise was affecting her. Her hips shifted against the mattress, a tiny involuntary movement that she probably wasnât even aware of.
Cherri noticed. She noticed everything. âStay still,â she commanded softly.
Apo froze. Her thighs trembled with the effort of keeping them parted. Her fingers uncurled from the quilt, stretching flat against the fabric as if she were trying to anchor herself.
Cherri drew back just enough to look at her properly. Apoâs face was flushed. Her pupils had blown wide, swallowing the iris until only a thin ring of color remained. Her lips were parted and slick where sheâd been biting them. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths that made the bodice of her dress shift against her breasts.
Pretty, Cherri thought again. Far too pretty to have been left alone this long.
âIâm going to touch you now,â Cherri said. âAnd youâre going to keep your hands where they are. No grabbing. No pulling. If you want something, you ask. If you want me to stop, you say âred.â Do you understand?â
âYes.â
âYes what?â
Apoâs brow furrowed in confusion. Then understanding dawned, and another flush of color swept across her cheeks.
âYes⊠master?â
Cherriâs stomach tightened. She hadnât expected that. Hadnât prompted it. Apo had reached for the word on her own, pulled it out of some instinctual place that even she probably didnât understand.
âThatâs right,â Cherri said, and her voice came out rougher than she intended. âGood puppy.â
She brought her hand to Apoâs collarbone. Just her fingertips at first. Tracing the line of bone beneath skin. Apo shivered but stayed perfectly still, her hands flat against the quilt, her thighs open around Cherriâs knee. Cherri dragged her fingers lower, following the neckline of Apoâs dress until she reached the first button.
âIâm going to undress you,â Cherri said.
Apo nodded. Swallowed. âOkay.â
âOkay what?â
âOkay, master.â
Cherri worked the first button free. Then the second. The fabric gaped open, revealing the pale swell of Apoâs breasts beneath a thin cotton shift. Cherriâs fingers brushed against the exposed skin, and Apoâs breath stuttered.
âYouâre so responsive,â Cherri murmured. âEvery little touch. Has it been that long since someone handled you properly?â
Apoâs eyes fluttered closed. âYes.â She looked and sounded out of it.
âLook at me when Iâm talking to you.â Her eyes snapped open immediately. The obedience made Cherriâs blood run hot. âBetter,â Cherri said. âYou want to be good, donât you.â
âYes, master.â
âYou want to be my good little puppy.â
Apoâs hips twitched. âYes.â
Cherri unfastened the rest of the buttons with patient, unhurried movements. She pushed the dress open, baring Apoâs shift underneath, and then she tugged the shift down too, exposing the full shape of Apoâs breasts to the warm lamp light.
Apo made a small, embarrassed sound.
âNo,â Cherri said firmly. âNo hiding. Youâre beautiful like this.â
The compliment landed like a physical blow. Apoâs back arched again, her breasts lifting toward Cherriâs hands as if begging for contact. Her nipples had drawn tight in the cool air, and Cherri circled one with her fingertip, not quite touching, just tracing the shape of it against the areola.
âPlease,â Apo breathed.
âPlease what?â
âPlease touch me.â
âGood girl asking for what she wants.â Cherri pressed her thumb directly against Apoâs nipple.
Apo cried out. It wasnât loud. The house was big for anyone else to hear, but it was raw, a sound torn from somewhere deep inside her chest, and her whole body jerked beneath Cherriâs touch like sheâd been struck by lightning.
Cherri didnât let up. She rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger, gentle at first and then firmer, watching Apoâs face contort with pleasure. Her other hand found Apoâs other breast and mirrored the motion, both nipples stiff and aching beneath her fingers.
âHow does that feel?â Cherri asked.
âGood,â Apo gasped. âIt feels good...â
âYou like being touched by me.â
âYes, yes, Iââ
Cherri pinched down harder. Apoâs words dissolved into a moan. Her hands, still obediently flat against the quilt, curled into fists. Her thighs clamped around Cherriâs knee and then relaxed, clamped and relaxed, a rhythm that matched the desperate pulse between her legs.
Cherri leaned down and replaced her fingers with her mouth.
She took Apoâs nipple between her lips and sucked. Lightly at first. Then harder. Apoâs back bowed off the mattress, and her hands flew up to grab Cherriâs shoulders before she caught herself and slammed them back down against the quilt.
âGood puppy,â Cherri murmured against her skin. âGood girl staying still.â
Her teeth grazed the sensitive peak. Apo whimpered. Cherri bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a mark. A small, possessive bloom of red against pale skin. Then she moved to the other breast and did it again.
And again.
By the time she drew back, Apoâs chest was littered with small bruises, tiny red crescents that would darken overnight. Hickeys in the shape of Cherriâs mouth. Claim marks.
âLook at you,â Cherri said, surveying her work. âLook at what a pretty mess you are already.â
Apoâs eyes were glassy. Her mouth hung open slightly. She looked drugged, or drunk, or like someone whoâd just woken from a dream they werenât sure was real.
Cherri slid lower down the bed, her hands pushing Apo's dress up past her hips. The fabric bunched at her waist, revealing the straining outline of Apo's cock beneath the thin cotton shift. The damp spot at the front of the fabric glistened under the lamplight, unmistakable.
Apo's breath came in short, ragged pulls. Her hands stayed flat against the quilt where Cherri had commanded them, but her fingers kept curling and uncurling, clutching at nothing.
"Look how hard you are already," Cherri murmured, tracing one fingertip along the length of Apo's cock through the damp cotton. "Just from my mouth on your chest. Just from being called a good puppy."
Apo whimpered, her hips jerking upward before she caught herself and pressed them back down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to moveâ"
"Shh." Cherri pressed her palm flat against Apo's stomach, holding her still. "You're doing so well. You're being such a good girl for me."
The words hit Apo like a physical blow. Her eyelids fluttered. Her throat worked around a sound that didn't quite make it out. The flush that had been creeping down her neck spread lower, blooming across her collarbone in uneven patches of pink.
Cherri hooked her fingers into the waistband of Apo's underwear and tugged. The fabric peeled away, and Apo's cock sprang free, curving up toward her stomach. The head was slick and flushed, a bead of precome already gathering at the tip.
"There we go," Cherri said softly. "That's better. You're so pretty like this, puppy. All laid out and hard for me."
"Thank you, master." The words came out in a rush, breathless and automatic.
Cherri's stomach tightened again. She hadn't told Apo to say that. The girl was reaching for it on her own, settling into the role like slipping into warm water.
"How long has it been since someone touched you?" Cherri asked, tracing her fingers along the inside of Apo's thigh. The muscle jumped beneath her touch. "Since someone made you feel good?"
Apo's jaw tightened. "I don'tâ I've neverâ"
"Never?"
"Not like this." Apo turned her face toward the pillow, hiding her expression. "Not with someone whoâŠ"
"Who what?"
"Who wanted to."
The confession hung in the air. Cherri's hand stilled on Apo's thigh. She stared at the side of Apo's face, at the way her jaw clenched and her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and something hot and possessive curled behind her ribs.
"Look at me."
Apo turned her head back slowly. Her eyes were wet again, but she wasn't crying. Not exactly. She looked like someone who'd been holding back tears for years and had forgotten how to let them fall.
"No one's ever made you come," Cherri said. It wasn't a question. Apo shook her head. "Have you made yourself come?"
"Most nights," Cherri repeated. She wrapped her fingers loosely around the base of Apo's cock. Apo gasped, her hips twitching upward again. "So you lie here in this big empty house, in this bed all by yourself, and you touch yourself and think about someone taking care of you. Someone telling you what to do. Someone who sees you."
Apo's mouth opened. No sound came out.
"Is that right?"
"Yes." The word cracked in half. "Yes, master."
"Good girl." Cherri stroked upward slowly, just once, watching precome well at the tip and drip down over her knuckles. "Good girl telling me the truth. You've been so lonely, haven't you. So desperate for someone to handle you properly."
Apo's hips bucked. She didn't apologize this time. Her breathing had gone ragged, her chest heaving, the marks Cherri had left on her breasts darkening in the lamplight.
"I'm going to take care of you tonight," Cherri said. She stroked again, a little faster this time, her grip tightening just enough to make Apo's breath stutter. "I'm going to put my fingers inside you and stretch you open and make you feel so full. And you're going to lie here and take it like a good puppy. Yes?"
"Yes, master."
"And you're going to tell me if it's too much. You remember the word?"
"Red."
"That's right." Cherri released Apo's cock and brought her slick fingers lower, tracing the delicate skin behind. Apo's thighs fell open wider, an invitation she didn't seem aware she was making. "Good girl. Now stay still."
Cherri's fingertip found the tight ring of Apo's entrance and pressed gently. Not pushing in yet. Just resting there, letting Apo feel the pressure. Apo made a sound that might have been a whimper or might have been a plea.
"Shh," Cherri murmured again. "I've got you. You're being so good for me."
She pressed harder. The tip of her finger slipped inside, and Apo's whole body clenched around the intrusion. Hot and tight and fluttering. Cherri held still, letting her adjust, watching her face.
"Breathe," Cherri commanded softly. Apo exhaled shakily. Her inner muscles relaxed minutely. "Good puppy." Cherri pushed deeper. "Taking me so well."
Apo's hands fisted in the quilt. Her thighs trembled. Her cock lay thick and leaking against her stomach, untouched, jerking every time Cherri's finger moved.
"That's one finger," Cherri said. She curled it slightly, pressing against the slick inner walls. Apo moaned, a raw broken sound that seemed to surprise her as much as it surprised Cherri. "You like that?"
"Yes, master, pleaseâ"
"Please what?"
"More. Please, I want more."
Cherri withdrew her finger slowly, watching Apo's entrance clench around nothing. Then she pressed two fingers against the opening and pushed inside.
The stretch made Apo's back arch off the mattress. Her mouth fell open, a long gasping moan spilling out. Her thighs tried to close around Cherri's hand, but Cherri's body was already between them, keeping her spread open.
"Look at you," Cherri breathed. "Look at how well you're taking my fingers. You were made for this, weren't you. Made to be filled up."
"Yes," Apo gasped. "Yes, master, yesâ"
Cherri thrust deeper, curling her fingers upward, searching. She found the spot she was looking for when Apo's voice cracked on a sob. Not pain. The sound was pure, undiluted pleasure, ripped from somewhere deep in her chest.
"There," Cherri said. "Right there. That's what you've been missing, isn't it. That's what your own fingers couldn't reach."
She worked her fingers in and out at a steady pace, curling them each time she bottomed out, pressing against that spot until Apo was shaking beneath her. Apo's cock leaked steadily, slicking her stomach, twitching with every thrust of Cherri's fingers. Her face had gone slack, mouth open, eyes half-lidded and glassy.
"You look so pretty like this," Cherri told her. "So pretty with my fingers inside you. Such a good little puppy, taking everything I give you."
"Master," Apo breathed. "Master, I'mâ I think I'm going toâ"
"Not yet." Cherri slowed her thrusts, pressing deep and holding still. Apo whined, a high desperate sound that made Cherri's pulse kick. "Not until I say so. You can wait for me, can't you?"
"Yes." Apo's voice was wrecked. "Yes, I can wait."
"Good girl."
Cherri held her there, fingers buried deep, watching Apo's face cycle through desperation and frustration and aching need. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched around Cherri's fingers, trying to pull her deeper. Her hips made tiny abortive movements, barely restrained.
"Please," Apo whispered. "Please, master, I've been so goodâ"
"You have." Cherri leaned down and pressed her mouth to the hollow of Apo's throat. She sucked hard, drawing the skin between her teeth, working another bruise to the surface. Apo gasped and tilted her head back, baring more of her throat. "You've been so good for me. So obedient. My perfect little puppy."
She started moving her fingers again, faster now, curling harder against that spot. Apo's whole body went rigid, her inner muscles clamping down, her cock jerking against her stomach.
"Now," Cherri said against her throat. "Come for me now."
Apo shattered. Her back bowed off the mattress, a scream tearing from her throat. Her hips bucked wildly against Cherri's hand, and her release pulsed hot and thick across her own stomach, streaking up toward her chest. Cherri kept thrusting, working her through it, curling her fingers each time Apo's walls clenched around her.
"Good girl," Cherri murmured. "Good puppy. Let it all out. You've been waiting so long for this."
Apo's orgasm seemed to go on for minutes. Her body shook, her voice broke, her fingers finally abandoned the quilt to grab at Cherri's shoulders. Cherri let her. The rule about staying still didn't matter anymore. What mattered was the way Apo clung to her, desperate and wrecked and trembling, burying her face against Cherri's neck.
When it finally subsided, Apo went limp against the mattress. Her arms fell away from Cherri's shoulders. Her breathing came in harsh, uneven gasps. The mess on her stomach glistened in the lamplight.
Cherri withdrew her fingers slowly. Apo whimpered at the loss, her entrance gaping slightly, fluttering around nothing.
"Shh." Cherri brought her slick fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. Apo watched with wide, glassy eyes. "You did so well. You were so good for me."
"Thank you, master." Apo's voice was barely a whisper.
Cherri reached down and pushed the tangled hair back from Apo's face. The girl looked utterly wrecked. Flushed and bruised and covered in her own release. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth slightly open, her body still twitching with aftershocks.
"How do you feel?" Cherri asked.
"Good." Apo blinked slowly. "Float-y. Like my head's not quite⊠attached."
Cherri smiled. That was exactly what she'd been hoping for. Exactly the state she'd been working toward since she first set foot in this house.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
Apo's brow furrowed slightly. "Cherri?"
Cherri shifted on the bed, positioning herself more comfortably between Apo's thighs. She pressed her thumb against Apo's entrance, still slick and open, and watched Apo's eyes flutter.
"I told you I was going to train you," Cherri said. "This was just the beginning. A taste. I'm going to teach you to be my good little puppy all the time. Not just in bed. Every moment of every day."
Apo stared up at her. The glassiness in her eyes took on a new quality. Something deeper. Something that looked almost like a trance.
"You want that, don't you," Cherri said. "You want to stop thinking. Stop worrying. Stop being the leftover Kuna daughter that no one in this town gives a damn about. You want to belong to me."
"Yes," Apo breathed. The word came out slurred, dreamy. "Yes, Cherri."
"When you're with me, you don't have to be Apo Kuna anymore. You can just be my puppy. My good, obedient little pup. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists."
"Nothing else exists," Apo echoed.
Cherri leaned down, close enough that her lips nearly brushed Apo's ear. "From now on, you'll do what I say. You'll come when I call. You'll kneel when I tell you to kneel. And every time you obey, you'll feel just as good as you feel right now. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Cherri."
"And if you disobey, you'll feel empty. Cold. Alone. The way you felt before I walked through that door. The way you felt your whole life." Apo's breath caught. A flicker of genuine fear moved behind the glassiness in her eyes. "But you won't disobey, will you." Cherri pulled back, meeting Apo's gaze. "Because you're my good little puppy. And good puppies get rewards."
She reached down between them and pressed two fingers inside Apo again. Apo gasped, her inner walls clenching weakly around the intrusion. She was still sensitive, still wet with her own release and the slickness Cherri had worked into her.
"Every time you're good," Cherri murmured, thrusting slowly, "I'll make you feel like this. Full. Wanted. Seen."
Apo's mouth opened. A thin line of drool escaped the corner of her lips.
"Every time you do what I tell you," Cherri continued, curling her fingers, "I'll tell you how proud I am of you. How pretty you are. How lucky I am to have such an obedient little puppy."
Apo moaned. The sound was distant, disconnected, like it came from somewhere far away.
"You're going to be so good for me," Cherri said. "Aren't you."
"Yes, Cherri." The words were barely recognizable. Slurred and soft and utterly surrendered.
Cherri smiled. She had her now. Not completely, not yet, the hypnosis would need to be deepened, reinforced over days and weeks. But the foundation was laid. Apo was already halfway into a trance, her conscious mind drifting somewhere far away while her body responded to Cherri's commands without hesitation.
"Good puppy." Cherri thrust deeper, working her fingers in and out at a languid pace. Apo's hips rocked in rhythm, a mindless, instinctive movement. "Now I'm going to make you come again. And this time, you're going to watch my face while you do it. You're going to look into my eyes and know exactly who you belong to."
Apo's glassy gaze found Cherri's face. Her pupils were blown so wide her eyes looked black.
"There you are," Cherri whispered. "There's my good girl."
She crooked her fingers and pressed hard against that spot inside Apo, and Apo's body responded instantly. Her back arched, her mouth fell open, her inner walls clamped down around Cherri's fingers like a vise. But her eyes stayed locked on Cherri's face. Even as the pleasure crested, even as her second orgasm ripped through her harder than the first, she didn't look away.
The eye contact was electric. Cherri felt it in her gut, in her chest, in the pulse between her own legs. The sheer raw submission in Apo's gaze. The trust. The desperate, aching need.
When it was over, Apo lay limp and trembling, still staring up at Cherri like she was the only thing in the world.
Cherri withdrew her fingers and brought them to Apo's lips.
"Clean them," she commanded.
Apo's mouth opened obediently. Her tongue, pink and warm, lapped at Cherri's fingers, tasting herself. The sensation made Cherri's breath catch.
"Good puppy," she murmured.
Apo's eyes fluttered closed. A small, satisfied sound hummed in her throat.
Cherri settled onto the mattress beside her, pulling the quilt up around them both. Apo curled toward her instinctively, pressing her face against Cherri's shoulder.
"Sleep now," Cherri said. "When you wake up, we'll begin."
But even as she said it, her mind was already racing ahead. There was so much more to do. Collars to find. Commands to teach. A mind to reshape, piece by piece, until Apo Kuna couldn't remember what it felt like to be anything other than Cherri's pet.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the shutters. Somewhere in Town Pity, a dog barked twice and fell silent.
Cherri stared at the ceiling, one hand absently stroking Apo's hair, and planned.
