In a sudden spark of devotion, Lucio finally deals Sam a pleasant surprise that triggers long-gone memories. What other way can he repay the count than showing him a good time in return?
Rating: 18+ 🍋 Minors DNI
Word Count: 2328 (be proud of me that it’s under 5k u_u)
Content includes: canon complicit violence; established dom/sub dynamics; ownership kink/possessive language; daddy dom elements; light exhibitionism/public setting; knife play; general rough play/choking; vaginal fingering; oral play; Sam and Lucio being Sam and Lucio (aka bastard men with little to no morals lmao); T4T (some gendered language used [i.e. cunt, dick, etc.])
A/N: I got high and finally finished this LMAO was thinking a lot about Lucio’s possessiveness and devotion that he shows in his reverse ending and how it is pretty similar to how Sam felt towards Mara—and thus we got character developing finger fucking LMAO header is from the game and obviously edited (by moi✨)
Preview undercut because Tumblr formatting was hell for this one LOL😤💕 Full linked in the title on AO3 !
It wasn’t abnormal for Sam to receive some inane, snide comment from a nameless nobleman. When he was a bit younger, he relished their discomfort with his mere existence. A nobody suddenly appeared in their most esteemed circles seemingly out of thin air. They all had spent years kissing someone else’s ass, playing a game with no rules, only for Sam to sit amongst them with not so much a care in the world. It was as if this came naturally to him—and they knew it did not.
It was that alienation, that seemingly obvious marker on his forehead—that was always present to others but never himself—that wore on his nerves. His initial glee had long subsided. He couldn’t deny the queasy mortification about being made to face his upbringing (as distant as that may be) and, without it needing to be spoken out loud, understand that he was worthless in the eyes of this crowd. Decades now had passed, and yet the same prolonged stares followed him, the tittering of gossip loud enough to be heard like a gnat in one’s ear—there, but impossible to trace.
Still, Sam had learned that he could not fight every dimwitted fool that turned their nose up to him. He had exhausted himself silly trying to do it before. No, he had to be mindful of when he could have his “moments.” For instance, he could not afford to get into a scuffle at a gala Nadia was hosting. His life was easiest when she was content with him—he knew she would never break her silence to tattle to her mother, but she was crafty enough to find other ways to make his day hellish without her help. Like mother like daughter—all royals were the same: annoying .
However, what Nadia could not control was Lucio. Try as she might, she simply could not wrangle him. Of course, in the bedroom, he worshipped her like a goddess. That went without saying. But in the light of day? Lucio was an unruly pup, and Nadia was ready to toss him out. It was cute in its own right, and it made Sam’s ability to tame the Count all the more satisfying.
Lucio was his.
The thought never occurred to him until Lucio was snarling in the face of some diplomat, a blade pressing into the squirming, squealing man’s throat, his gauntlets pinning him to the wall. Despite his scathing words, tinged with such sharp teeth, Lucio was smiling , glowing almost. He had reacted before Sam could even pretend to laugh, before he could even fantasize about doing the very same thing himself. But Lucio had known, and more importantly, cared about nothing but realizing that fantasy for him.
The scene was oddly nostalgic, and Sam could only stare and blink, his lips twitching into a smile as he watched those alarming blue eyes sparkle with frenzied glee.
Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to a figure on top of you. You do not mind him, and in fact, welcome him.
Contains/warnings: Choking, gender neutral reader, transmasc Billy, mutual masturbation, general dirty talk, nipple play, finger sucking/oral fixation, some themes or somno
A/N: it’s Christmas time aka Billy Time (at least where I’m at), so of course this was the day I needed to try my hand at some Billy Lenz smut 😌 Really wanted to play up Billy’s more regretful, thoughtful lucid side as well as the scene in which Barb thinks she’s dreaming about him. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and happy smut Saturday to everyone else 💕💕
You weren’t quite sure when it had all happened, when the line between dream and reality crumbled away. You couldn’t even remember the dream now; what was once so vivid, so touchable, had already retreated to the shadows of your consciousness. Absently, you were aware of your eyes moving under your eyelids, still shut so tight, as if to will yourself back to sleep despite the new, foriegn weight on top of you.
“S-Shh… Just… Just go b-back to sl-sleep--”
That stuttering voice—where had you heard it before? Was it your own, your own mind willing you back to dreamland? No, no it was too hoarse, too broken and strained to be your own. Childlike, almost, in its pleas.
“What…?” The question dies almost immediately in your throat as a clammy hand presses against your lips; you can taste the sweat on its palms, can feel the hestiance in this domineering motion. Briefly, your eyes open wide, crossed together as you try to see who is above you, who’s hand is clamped so shakily on your mouth. But then your vision is cut off again; another hand, another large hand, covers both your eyes easily.
There is a fear in all these movements, a regret embedded with every twitch of those fingers. You grow more aware of the knees digging into your waist, pinning you in place. You writhe, just a little, because you are aware that’s what you should be doing. You should be kicking and screaming, should be clawing at that shadowy face you barely got a glimpse of. But instead, you close your eyes once again, leaning into those trembling hands. You close your mouth tightly too, bite down on your bottom lip. A show of retreat, of compliance.
“See? See? Good… G-Go back to sleep… You can be good? I-I’m… I’m not bad. Not bad at all. S-See? Do you see…? You see.”
But you don’t; you keep your eyes closed even as those hands move away from them. Instead, they slowly trace along your hairline, brushing stray hairs from your sweaty face. The other begins to lightly drag along your jaw, inching down to your throat. You tilt your neck without thinking, an unspoken invitation. You hear the figure gasp, as if he too is surprised you are being so good.
“P-Pretty… pretty, pretty, pretty…” he keeps murmuring, each “pretty” a bit more frantic than the last. Still, you feel flattered, flustered even. You shift under him, not to get away, but to become more comfortable.
His fingers are running through your hair now, untangling it and smoothing it down against your pillows. With his other hand, he gropes and rubs your shoulder and arm. It slips to the front of your chest, feeling for your warm skin underneath your thin nightclothes--a tank and flimsy shorts, perhaps too short for the winter, though now you are not complaining.
And he keeps whispering to you, or perhaps is it to himself? Constant reassurance, constant repetition. Though you catch a twisted little giggle once or twice too, as if he also can’t believe this is all happening, that it’s all working so well. You can’t believe it either, truthfully, and feel a mad smile tug at your own lips. Can’t believe how easily the thin straps of your tank are brushed down, can’t believe the contrast of the chill of the room and his hot breath, can’t believe how your thighs are rubbing together, brushing against his.
Suddenly, your tank is yanked down. Your shorts are quick to follow. The fabric drags against your skin. It is the roughest he has been the entire time, and you cannot help but whimper, caught off guard. That seems to snap him back; his lips are right on your cheek, kissing and cooing to you, to himself.
“No, no, no--it’s okay. S-See? See? Just a little… Excited. Pretty. You’re so so pretty. See? I’m not a… n-not a bad B-Bill--man.”
You can barely understand it; you cling to the word “pretty,” cling to the butterflies it gives you.
“Not bad…” you whisper back, absently parroting him. He lets out a wet breath; is he crying? You can’t tell. You don’t think about it too hard, though, because those hands are groping lower now. He’s exploring you, shakily taking in every inch of skin, pausing to see every small reaction.
“Lemme lick it… lick it… wana… wana taste it.”
God, you feel so exposed, so put on display. But you don't hate the attention either; you moan weakly as he brushes against your nipples, arching your back as a silent cue for him to keep going. He gasps, his hands freezing in place. For a moment you think to open your eyes, to say something to him. To encourage and goad him on.
But almost immediately, any further hesitance is gone, snuffed out like a candle.
You’re nearly screaming as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. That other large hand is back to your lips, his fingers pressing against them, against your teeth. Without thinking you suck on them, licking the pads of his fingers as he curls them inside of you. He’s moaning, too, panting and moaning as he’s no doubt watching your face. Watching as you lick and suck on his fingers.
“Pretty pretty piggy…. Suck it. Suck it good. Suck me good. It’s alright. That’s right. Shh…. Shhh…”
The thought of him looking at you tickles your skin more, makes every fervent lick all the more pleasurable.
You spread your legs, your shorts stretching as you do. Without thinking, your own hand reaches for your sex. The figure makes a low noise, almost a growl, and you stop, unsure.
“Keep… going….”
He growls it into your chest. You melt into his words, your hand now working yourself up faster. You twitch and moan, uncaring if the others can hear. For all you know, this is just a dream. And who cares, honestly, if they can hear you? The thought is comforting; you lap at his fingers in your mouth with excess, drool slipping out of the corners of your lips. You feel him work off his own pants, enough so that his other hand can bury itself before his own legs. You lift your knee up between his bare thighs; he rubs against you and his hand, growling and moaning into your skin.
You can feel how wet he is on your leg; you press against him more, milking out more moans and mewls. You bob your knee, relishing this new sense of control. None of the noises he makes are consistent; at times he sounds guttural and animalistic, deep and dark. And then, in an instant, he sounds catlike, mewling and whimpering. You can’t help but find it all so endearing, and your hand works faster between your thighs, your orgasm nudging closer and closer.
Your mind blanks as the fingers in your mouth are suddenly wrapped around your throat. You sputter out something—is it a plea to stop or to keep going? A question of why? You don’t know, but the man doesn’t hear you, or rather, doesn’t listen. You can feel his hand move from his cunt to your throat as he humps against your thigh, panting and giggling as he uses both hands to choke you.
You can no longer resist. You open your eyes, mouth agape and soundless.
The shadows of the room obscure his face, but you can make out those eyes, those teeth. The big bad wolf right in your bed. Your hand is pumping your sex on its own; you croak out nonsense, the words lost. He throttles you more as he ruts against you with abandon, his eyes crossing, teeth gnashed together. Your other hand is tightened around his wrist, but you don’t try to pull him away. You hold him there, choking you, as you rub out your own climax.
He all but screams as he feels you tense up and spasm; his orgasm is quick to follow, wet and hot against your leg.
Those hands that had choked you are now rubbing your face, smoothing down your hair again, as he shushes you.
“Pretty… pretty piggy… so good for Billy…”
He goes back to babbling the usual nonsense and you welcome his words as your eyelids drift shut again. Your orgasm leaves you feeling languid and exhausted. Your bed seems to be swallowing you up; you are absently aware that he is tucking you back in, reclothing you too.
You want to tell him to stay, to sleep here with you. But you say nothing, keeping your eyes and lips closed as the room grows colder, silent.
When you wake, you are alone. You wonder if it was all just a dream after all, your lonely mind playing tricks on you. But the raw ache on your throat is a cold indication that no, no you had been visited. And you had welcomed him. Sitting up in bed, you cannot help but feel there are eyes on you, somewhere, somehow.
You welcomed him and would welcome him again, should he so wish. The thought brings a smile to your face.
Donna’s voice trailed off, their eyes widening as they spoke. They glanced up at Valerius, seeking some sort of validation, some sort of recognization. They silently hoped he would be normal; neither upset nor happy. Just… normal.
An evening of drinking and story-weaving leads Vesuvia's most dysfunctional polycule into a discussion of the divine (which leads to discussions of the past and perhaps the present too). However, not everyone involved is as intrigued when a certain Arcana is mentioned. It is up to Valerius to encourage his lover to open up to him in a way they haven't: to tell the full truth of their murky upbringing.
Rating: T for discussions of past abuse & darker themes
WC: 7,401 split between two chapters
Characters & Relationships: Valerius, Donna, Nadia (all in their own traid lol) & Sam and Lucio
Content warnings: discussions of past childhood abuse, discussions of attempted infanticide, childhood trauma, negative self talk/self thinking (most of this appears exclusively in the second chapter), casual discussions of death, mentioned parental death, and very casual daddy dom language because Sam and Lucio are there lmao
A/N: after years.... i have finally sat down and made Donna actually talk about their childhood/upbringing lmao this is a pretty personal fic for me for a variety of reasons, and it's one that I'm fairly proud of but also deeply insecure about all the same LOL again, very dialogue heavy and introspective; please heed all content warnings!
First chapter preview undercut, with links to both chapters there as well! if darker themes aren't your jam, you can just avoid the second chapter and know there's a lot of hurt but also a lot of gay comfort lmfao
Part One // Part Two
“What do you mean by that?” Nadia asked. Gods, it was becoming grating to Sam how endearing she was behaving.
“Well, let’s use the cards as an example. Anyone can read the cards. I know their assigned meanings, and if you paid me, I would do a card reading for you and may actually sell you on my sincerity. But that’s all it is: storytelling. I can twist any general reading to be specific toward you if you told me enough about yourself—that is why there are so many con artists when it comes to this. If you can tell a tale, you can read the cards.
Donna, however, actually can hear the Arcane and interpret their messages. That isn't exactly standard practice, and certainly not one I can do anymore.”
“Any more?” Lucio prodded, snuggling closer.
“I used to have… some connection to my patron, yes.” Sam paused to glance down at the hand Lucio was playing with; he seemed to be reflecting on what to say next. His shoulders straightened out before he sighed. “But she severed that tie long ago. It was my own doing, of course. The Arcana do not take kindly to those who break from their paths, and they especially do not enjoy feeling replaced by some mortal being.”
“Huh—"
“They can do that?” Nadia cut in, a sudden and uncommon anxiety now in her tone. “Break off a connection, that is.”
A bitter smile graced Sam’s features; he regarded Nadia up and down for a moment before nodding.
“In my case, yes. Though perhaps it was for the best; breaking that tie broke off all of my connection to the arcane realms. I am much better at judging and denying earthly temptations than I would be magical.”
“Magical temptations? Like what, fairy circles or what have you?” Valerius piped up again, his focus now squarely on Donna’s hair. He thankfully did not seem aware of Sam’s giggle at his question.
“Well, no, silly boy,” Sam sighed as Lucio snickered. “I mean much more divine intervention.”
“Do the Arcana… meddle in earthly affairs?” Nadia reclined further into her seat, getting more comfortable.
“Obviously they do,” Sam said, mirroring her posture. “The fact that they choose humans to take under their wing says enough. But most patrons know not to directly interfere with this world; many will only tend to their flock in dreams or drug-induced stupors; whenever the veil is at its most thin or what have you.”
“And you are implying there are those who do more, are you not?”
“Well, yes.”
“Do you know which ones specifically—“
“The Devil.”
All eyes quickly snapped down to Donna. Their head was down, their shoulders hunched, and their fingers dug into their knees. Nadia tilted her head as she pushed forward slightly in her seat, readying herself to dart to the floor if need be. It seemed as if Sam was going to do the same, but he was stopped by Lucio grabbing his hand with a bruising grip.
“The Devil…?” Valerius prodded, the only one not fully aware of the tone shift.
“The Devil represents an excess of indulgences,” Sam cut in, trying to keep his tone neutral while trying to focus his attention between Lucio and Donna. “Out of all of the arcana, it makes the most sense that He would be most interested in earthly affairs and getting entangled in them; to want more than the vast expanses of magical realms he can control is in line with what he represents. He is the one patron to meddle in the affairs of others, regardless of who their patron is, to a normally… detrimental effect.”
“Detrimental?” Nadia pushed, her own curiosity outweighing her concern momentarily.
Sam shot Donna a concerned look, his lips sealing into a thin line. They slowly lifted their head, the pink in their hair gone and back to its normal blue.
They only shrugged up at him, a small smile on their face.
“Well…” Sam finally continued, pulling Lucio closer to him by the waist. “In my life, and in the type of work I used to do, I’ve seen people get… desperate . Desperate for a variety of things: money, power, friends, family, the love those people can give to you—we traversed in dark places, and it can lead to ravenous desires. I was lucky to have not just been disconnected from the magical realms but to have a mentor who knew too well the horrors that lurk there.
Others do not. Even the faintest whispers of the divine can twist the noblest of people. And this world is often cruel and unforgiving: to be offered a lifeline, to be offered some notion of control, is sometimes far too captivating to ignore.”
“You’re speaking in riddles,” Valerius interjected, now annoyed. “Speak plainly.”
“The drunkard says to the master,” Sam finally laughed, though there was little joy there. Lucio and Donna had both, shockingly, fallen silent, neither quite looking at anything or anyone. “What I mean is that it is easy for The Devil to tempt and offer solutions . I once knew a woman—a good, strong woman, I might add—who lost her entire family to a group of highwaymen. A senseless tragedy that falls on many—she is not unique, and neither are the effects of grief. She sought out my mentor for guidance, but your fellow human can only do so much for you. She was desperate for answers and for justice, and this world marches to the beat of its own drum. It was just taking too damn long.
So who better to come in than The Devil himself? Or what she thought was him. In exchange for something trivial, he can give you a name, a place they live, and even their weaknesses. But even more than that—what of power, what of strength? If you are to face your family’s slayers, should you not be prepared to dish out justice? She made deal after deal behind our backs, each one more complicated, each price growing steeper and steeper. By the time I or anyone had noticed a change, it was far too late. The Devil’s chains are… unbreakable. And the damage they do is far more than anyone can help.”
A long, heavy silence filled up the space like a thick smog. Nadia averted her eyes entirely, lost in her own thoughts, unsure what question to ask next. Valerius sat up straighter, his hands still petting through Donna’s hair. He could not see their expression from where he was sitting. He could only see how Lucio glanced back to the doorway as if he was worried someone was there. Valerius couldn’t help but think the same thing.
“But why go through that only to be… well.. ruined?” He asked without thinking. Sam only smiled sadly at him.
“You are so lucky, my dear boy, to have never been in want of anything.” Sam patted Lucio’s hip as he spoke, soothing him absently as he regarded Valerius. “And I hope you never experience it—truly, I do. Anyone may fall victim to this—it is our nature, after all, to seek out temptations with no regard for ourselves or others. That is the essence of the card; it is neither good nor evil: The Devil just exists as a paradigm of our makeup. He cannot help himself to crave more from this world, and we, in turn, cannot help but be tempted by him. It is up to the person on what they choose to do or not do, on the vile acts they may commit, and on giving up everything to gain their single want. Had I any line of communication left, I am not so sure I would be here—“
To Fuck Around is Human; To Find Out is Divine (1/4)
It just wasn’t fair ; it wasn’t fair that Sam always got what he wanted, and Valerius always ended up like this . And it wasn’t fair that he loved ending up like this—it just made Sam cheekier, more boastful. […]“Pretty soon you’re going to be thanking me, boy,” Sam whispered in a low growl. These next words were for Valerius and only Valerius. The attention alone had him on cloud nine—how pathetic . “You can cry and pout all you want—you and I both know how this story ends: with you begging daddy for more .”
Valerius attempts to dominate The Duke of Pearl Isles, which goes just as well as was expected. But with his spouse's help, can he for once turn the tables on him? Or will all three fall back into their usual roles?
Rating: 18+ minors DNI or I’m gonna eat your homework
WC: 5728 (im sorry…… my brain exploded)
Characters and relationships: Valerius, Sam, Lucio, brief DonDon, and two nameless OCs; primary Valerius/Sam but background Sam/Lucio and Valucio (and obvious ValDonna)
Content warnings: established Dom/Sub dynamics; non-consensual/dubiously-consensual spankings (did I just make up a word lol); punishments; light bondage; humiliation & degradation; daddy dom, Valerius’s canon foot fetish
A/N: its whack a doodle time. It is whack a doodle. Time. LOL I got my dick back in force and now I’m going to just dedicate time to doing self indulgent smut of these three LMFAO I can’t say there’s NO plot, but this is just a silly little blip in time for them that is vaguely post-game/whatever AU the tales take place in :’)
Preview undercut—full fic linked in the title✨
“Enlighten me, consul,” Sam was practically growling now, teasing a strand of Valerius’s bangs between two gloved fingers. “Seeing as you are suddenly the expert on discipline , what’s the proper way to teach a man like me some manners?”
Sam was clearly baiting him; everyone knew it, most of all Valerius. But he was giving him an out too: if he apologized, tail between his legs, Sam would let it all go. If it was really pretty, maybe he would even invite Valerius onto his lap next—he would have Valerius do something extra special to apologize.
On his lap next to Lucio—Lucio, whose eyes were glued to every move Valerius made, those eyes moving quickly to capture every breath, every small shudder. Valerius sucked in air through his nose, bracing himself to apologize. He wasn’t sure why he had looked to Lucio—normally he could turn to Donna for some visual reassurance.
Instead, Lucio quirked his brow at him, a wicked smile on his face as he tilted his chin up at Valerius.
You don’t have the balls.
“Well, obviously a spanking would be in order.”
Valerius tried not to jump at the ruckus he had caused. The two women tried to stifle their chuckles; Lucio chose to laugh and giggle openly, even so much as to kick his legs too. Sam’s eyes snapped to him for a moment before zeroing in on Valerius. Before Valerius could take the words back, Sam was laughing next, loud and hysterical.
“And just who would be able to do that to me, hm?”
This was bad. This was bad, and Valerius needed to stop.
“Oh, I can name quite a few I’ve seen firsthand tanning your hide—”
Sam was going to kill him. He was digging his own grave.
“My spouse, of course, being one of them.”
But how could he stop when Lucio looked so thrilled? Looked so impressed by him , not Sam, not even Nadia.
Sam’s eyes widened; it only made his forced smile all the scarier.
“Ah, I see ,” Sam chuckled, his voice too sweet. “Gonna run and tell on me like you always do? Gonna go tell mommy that daddy’s being a big ol’ meanie?”
Valerius felt his stomach drop, his face instantly igniting. Damn him . Damn him for saying that in front of those women—they would get the wrong idea, that he was really into all of that. Really, it was for Donna. And for Sam. And it made him happy to make them happy, it wasn’t that he was into it—
“Does it look like I’m running ? Are your eyes just as bad as your decorum?”
Sam sucked in a breath, practically hissing as he tilted his head down at Valerius. Valerius swallowed, his eyelashes fluttering.
“Oh? You gonna do it then, Valerius?” Sam took another step forward. Valerius took a step back. “You gonna put me in my place?”
Valerius felt like his brain was turning off, that he could will his soul from his body at this very moment. Lucio’s small giggle broke him out of his stupor.
“I could if I wanted to.”
“And you simply just never felt the urge? With how ill-mannered and barbaric I am, you’ve just always so happened to let me throw you over my knee?”
Tell Me How it Felt (it felt the same for me, too)
In which mama and son share a joint and the same, morbid story, starting with the simple question: Can you remember how you died?
Rating: T for a good ol smoke sesh and discussions of death & dying
Characters involved/mentioned: Donna & Damien; mentions of Valerius, Valdemar, and a brief discussion of Lucio
Words count: ~2760
Content warnings for: casual drug use, descriptions of insects and body horror (in the context of the plague), implied abuse, discussions of sickness/the plague, discussions of death, general references to past kidnapping (this is Damien’s go-to warning lol)
A/N: I apparently had this finished for AGES and just never posted ? LMAOO but some good old morbid family bonding times lmao or when Damien realizes that time is a circle, and Valdemar may not be all they seek to be lol very dialog heavy and more of a character study
Damien held his breath, swallowing down a gasp. No matter how often it happened, his mama always surprised him at these late hours. He was always so sure that if he waited just enough, his late-night walks would go unnoticed. But no, no matter how late the evening grew, he was sure to find his mama sitting out on the veranda, a joint wilting away in their small hand.
The first time had been awkward; Damien hadn’t known what it was, the smell foreign and nauseating. Donna had fumbled to explain themself, to justify that it wasn’t tobacco, that it was better than that if he could believe it. He knew how much his father hated cigarettes—which never stopped Damien from smoking them, but the idea of his mama smoking them was initially alarming. Damien's logical conclusion was to ask for a hit if it was so much better, his curiosity buzzing inside his gut.
It was difficult for Donna to tell him no—standing before them was a young man, older than they had been when they had started smoking. He wasn’t their baby boy any longer; how could they say no? There was plenty to share, like that could ever be an excuse. Better he does it with them and not one of those snotty rich kids. They would probably give him something laced, the sickos.
That was the beginning of it; be it morning or night, they would pass a joint back and forth, mostly sitting in silence or humming or weaving stories together. Some real, some fantasy, most a mixture of the two.
“You got enough for a second person?”
“For you, mi vida? Always.”
Donna was always prepared; once Damien finished the rest of what Donna was smoking, they were already beginning to roll another. They had tried countless times to teach Damien. Every time ended the same: they suggested he marry someone who could roll for him whenever he wanted. Still, he watched them closely, his eyes wide as they worked. They didn’t mind this; by now, they were used to his staring. It was a new habit, one that typically put off others. But never Donna.
“Does father ever do it?”
“Do what? Roll? Gods no. He can’t even pack me a bowl!” Donna snorted, their laughter a bit wheezy. It made Damien smile. “He prefers edibles anyway. He can make a mean pot brownie—you can barely taste it.”
“Gods, it’s been so long since I’ve had papa’s desserts…”
“We’ll make some tomorrow! It’ll make him happy if you ask him. Did I ever tell you the story?”
“Of how he won over Titi Dominique by making her flan?”
“Yes! We thought he’d win her over with sangria, but it was the flan that did it. She said it was almost as good as my abuelo’s. Almost. I’d never tasted it, but can you picture that? Your old man beating out someone who grew up making it?”
“No wonder he liked making it. Must have given him a big head.”
“Huge. But he earned it.”
“That time anyway.”
The two giggled at that as Donna passed Damien the joint. Damien raised his eyebrows, frowning.
“You rolled it, mama.”
“I smoked more than you. Go, it’s for you.”
Damien smiled, his chest swelling. I love you. He had never realized how much his mama said without saying it. And so clearly too; nothing ever felt like a secret. Most times he had to consult some higher power to figure out what his father was saying sometimes, what he actually meant. But, and Damien could admit this, he was almost the exact same way. Glancing up at Donna, he summoned a flame to his fingertips. They smiled and shut their eyes, reclining into the padded bench.
Are you my mother? Am I really yours?
“Mama?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Can you remember how you died?”
Damien almost immediately regretted the question. He winced as if he was hurt, his hands shooting up to pull the roots of his hair. Donna’s eyes were wide open, though their lips were a tight line. In the low light of the moon, Damien could see the raised scars along their mouth and cheek. Three gashes. One more trailed to their neck. He had grown up looking at them, it was never out of place. But he knew his father had known them before it. Had seen their face before they were his mama. Before everything.
“I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying, it’s late I—“
“It’s only a little morbid.” Donna tried to laugh as they ran their hand over their face. “But I think we’re both a little morbid. You gotta be, I think. In this family anyway.”
“You really don’t need to answer. I was just talking. I’ll be quiet!”
“No, no, no,” Donna sighed, bending forward to place their arms on their knees. “You’re your father’s son. You can talk to me, Damien. And you can ask me things.”
“I don’t have to ask everything.”
“Do you remember what your Titi Dominique said when you were little? Of course, you probably don’t. That’s okay, I can’t remember half of the things she said to me when I was little.”
Damien held his breath as Donna softly grabbed both of his hands. He was pulling his hair. Hard, he finally registered. They guided his hands to begin twiddling the ends of his hair instead. He repeated the motion without thinking as he focused his gaze on his lap. He didn’t need to see it to know his mama was smiling. They did this with him ever since he was little—that he remembered.
Remembered clearly.
“Well, anyway, the point is she was always saying how much she loved your questions. All the time, she would have the whole inn roaring in laughter as she listed off all the things you asked her that day.”
“They were laughing at me?”
“Oh, they loved you! They thought you were the smartest little guy around! They loved how brutal you were. So to the point. They thought you were the best kid—and they were right, you know.”
Damien sat in silence, a small smile tugging on his lips. Donna smirked before reclining back into their seat.
“All of that to say that you can ask me things. Anything. Even the gross stuff. Like what’s the best lube to use for anal.”
“Mama!“
“But I can’t really remember what it felt like to die, no. Or how exactly it happened,” they finally continued, silencing Damien swiftly. “I don’t have a lot of memories of the plague. Might be the magic, might just be… it sucks to die. Especially like that. But that entire time was just… death, death, death. Everyone felt like they were dying—if not now, then soon.”
“Papa said there wasn’t enough room for the bodies. Is that… is that true?”
“It is. I remember how much we tried to make up for it. But nothing was the same, nothing would ever be good enough. The lazaret was the last choice, but we had to. You’ve talked to your father about this?”
“Only… only one time. He got a little… a little wonky.”
“It was a dark time for him. For all of us, but… but especially him.”
“He lost you. That’s when he got wonky… talking about you.”
“He lost more than just me,” Donna inhaled sharply, shutting their eyes again. Damien reached out and held their hand. They ran their thumb over his the charred top of his hand; they didn't react at all to the rough texture. “Your father… loves this city. In some ways it’s like his first child—shit, that is totally not something I should be saying to you—"
“No, no, like… I know. Comes with being the former consul’s son and all.”
“So you understand! Even before he lost me, he was losing his people. No one knew when the plague would end—if it would ever end. Entire families were dying together. A whole generation gone. Just here one day, gone another. And your father could do nothing—even Nadia, if you can imagine it, could do nothing.”
“It’s hard to picture that… that she couldn’t just like… will the plague to end with her sheer mental fortitude.”
“I think she hates that too—that she couldn’t do the impossible. And it was impossible. It didn’t matter what we did—the plague wouldn’t stop, even if we moved people to better, safer places. Even if we put a physician in every home. It wouldn’t have ended. Not with… him there.”
Damien took a long drag from the joint next. He refused to acknowledge the chill running up his spine, so much like a finger tickling him. He felt eyes burning into him, somewhere hidden, far away. Always far away.
“You don’t… you weren’t there when it happened, right?”
“What?”
“The masquerade… when… you know—“
“No. I had died before that. It’s funny, in some ways the masquerade feels like some fucked up fairy tale I was told as a kid. But it wasn’t that. And I wasn’t a kid either.”
“It’s more like a scary story for me. Like a… what’s the word? Like it’s teaching you a less—“
“Cautionary tale! Like a cautionary tale.”
“Yes! Any time you guys mention… the old count, you get that way. He’s like the bogeyman.”
“He was the bogeyman. Or he wanted people to think so anyway. Really he was a massive loser, but he was a loser with a body count. So that makes him dangerous.”
Damien swallowed, ignoring what he thought sounded like stomping feet. Like a child having a tantrum. He could only stare at the scars on his mama’s face.
“But… shit, where were we?”
“Dying…?”
“Dying! Yes. I… I really don’t remember much of it. I vaguely remember getting sick. Or at least what made me sick—this is a bit graphic. Are you sure you want to hear?”
“Yes. If I don’t I’ll… I’ll interrupt you.”
“Perfect.” Donna took another deep breath, grounding themself. Damien leaned closer, dread and excitement eating away at him. “I’ve told you already I was the head physician's assistant. We had worked together before in the palace—they were the quaestor proper, but medicine was really where their interests were.” Damien felt his blood run cold; he couldn’t read Donna’s face, their eyes far away. He suddenly felt jittery and itchy. “Or maybe not medicine. I thought it was medicine, but really it was just…” They paused, swallowing. Damien could have sworn he heard a giggle—a real giggle—and had to stop himself from gasping. “Dying. They were very interested in people dying. How it happened, what it looked like, all that shit. That meant they were very hands-on with the patients—I’ll spare you those details. Just know that I was always at their side, recording anything and everything they told me to.
It started out with just writing down their weird little rambling, then it got more… hands-on. Helping them jar specimens. Helping them prepare a body. I never questioned any of it, not after the first week. I was just so… so lost.”
I know how you feel—I felt like that with them too.
“I was still reeling from being banished—my face hadn’t even healed properly. And it was a lot of dying people all the time—it never stopped. You just… grew numb to it. That’s what makes me the most upset, I think. That I didn’t remain upset by everything, that it no longer scared me. I just… let things happen to me.”
Donna paused to rub Damien’s shoulder; he had started to tremble. He clung to their hand.
“I should stop—“
“No! No… please, you’re the only one who talks to me like… like a person. Like I’m an adult.”
Donna frowned at that; it was clear they wanted to address it, wanted to refute it. Instead, they took another long hit before continuing.
“That’s why I don’t even remember when I got sick. It just was a thing that happened to me after a lot of things had already happened to me. I remember we were examining a blister or something like that—it was ginormous and weird and… I think one of the beetles had kind of… burrowed into their skin? Something gross like that. And then. Well. That was it. It was on me and it must have bit me. The rest is truly a blur: I was okay, and then I wasn’t, and then I was taken to the lazaret and—“
“You were still alive? When you went to… when they took you? I thought just the bodies went. So they could be taken care of. Not real people...”
“I would have gotten people sick, Dami. They… they couldn’t keep me there—“
“But all the other patients stayed? Why send you then when you were alive?”
Donna’s brows knit together; it felt like Damien was shouting at someone, someone else entirely. Accusing a person who wasn’t there. Was there?
“I don’t… I don’t know. That’s just how it happened. I was so sick, I didn’t… I don’t remember anything of the island just the boat ride and then… I died there.”
“But dad? You must have been able to say goodbye. He must have… they must have—“
“No. He… I would have made him sick, Damien. Valdemar, they…”
Donna’s voice broke, finally. It was just like speaking with his father: everything was factual, to the point, until either one had to speak of the other. It was too painful for the couple to think of, to think of one without the other, to think of never being able to say goodbye. But it had happened, the memory like a scar deep inside one another. Unseen but felt.
I know. That’s how I felt too when they made me leave without saying goodbye.
“We can stop, mama. That’s… we can stop. I'm sorry I got upset--”
“I’m sorry! It wasn’t as cool of an answer as I thought it would be. I can make one up? Or you make one up?”
“You’re asking your only child to make up a story about how you died?”
“That’s… terrible when you say it out loud, yeah. I guess my maternal skills are… lacking.”
And then they were laughing. They both had the same, wheezy cackle that could shake the leaves off of trees; tears stung their eyes as both took turns hacking into their arms. Naturally, Donna’s hand landed on Damien’s back. He leaned closer to them, resting his head on their shoulder as he giggled. Donna sighed, snuggling closer to him.
“That’s… all over now, though. I mean, look! I’m here! Flesh and all! Lots of flesh. Maybe too much.”
“Flesh, flesh, flesh…” Damien murmured, a sleepy smile on his face. Donna smiled and shook their head.
“Let’s get you to bed. It’s double not a good thing to get my only son high out of his mind when we have work to do tomorrow.”
“Nah, I think that part’s fine. Every parent should do this.
“Let’s go, mi Vida. I’ll walk you.”
Linking pinkies, Donna led the pair back to Damien’s chambers. They continued whispering on the walk back, both cracking harmless jokes at one another. Once they made it to Damien’s room, he stopped them, holding both of Donna’s hands in his. They had finally registered that he was without his gloves; his charred skin rubbed against theirs, the blacks of his hands clashing with their skin.
“Are you mad, mama?”
“Not at all, my darling boy. When I say you can ask me anything, I mean it.”
Damien held their hands tighter, looking down at their feet. He looked so much like he did as a child, with the same pout and the same puffed cheeks. Despite everything, despite the years and space and grief, he was still their son.
He was still theirs.
“I… I’m glad you’re my mom. And I’m glad you’re here.” Damien swallowed, refusing to look at them. He didn’t need to see that tears were welling in Donna’s eyes, didn’t need to hear this was something they had craved hearing from him. “I love you. Good night.”
“I… I love you, too, vida,” Donna whispered before placing a flurry of kisses on Damien’s head. He snorted, finally grinning. “I’m glad you’re my son. And words can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here—that we can both be here.”
They didn’t need to see the tears welling in Damien’s eyes as he bolted to his room. Didn’t need him to say it to know he had been craving those words from them for some time. Perhaps ever since he came home.
Mother and son, both dead and rising from the grave, wishing one another good night, promising that they would see each other in the morning.
“A necessary procedure to receive—and what a procedure it will be! You are so, so lucky. I’ll keep you awake so that you may enjoy it thoroughly—I know I will! Isn’t that exciting, Damien?”
Rating: T+
W/C: 2253
Characters present: Previous characters plus Valdemar & mentions of Marisol, Vulgora, and Vlastomil
Content warnings: references to abuse/childhood kidnapping; negative self-talk; manipulation & verbal abuse; alcohol mention/forced consumption; implied vivisection because Valdemar.; Damien is Not Having a Good Time & Valdemar is Not Nice
A/N: and then things got very real :') obviously a much heavier chapter so heed chapter warnings
Imee and I are seated in front of one another. Mama, Papa, and Nadia are sitting off to the side, away so that I can’t see them but I know that they’re there. Imee first guides me through a fairly standard meditation; it is not very different than the silly ones Asra would make me do. Between her words, though, I can feel chilly tendrils of magic at my temples. They’re just small wisps, more like a cooling breeze than some heavy spell. But the effect is almost immediate as she begins to count down from ten, each step dropping me lower and lower into the darkness behind my eyelids. I no longer feel the chair beneath me or the soft skin of Imee’s hands.
Before I know it, I am no longer in the palace at all. My parents are gone. Nadia is gone. I can only make out Tita Imee’s voice.
“Now, tell me, where are you? What do you see?”
“I… I’m back… there, in the cellar. It’s… humid and sticky. And dark. Very dark. Why aren’t more candles lit? I can barely see anything…”
“Are you alone, Damien?”
“Yes—No. They’re here with me. They’re always here, even when… Even when… stars, why is it so dark?”
“Damien, can you hear me? Who is with you?”
“You know I don’t like the dark.”
“Damien, sweet boy, let me guide you—”
“Have I done something wrong? I thought… the day was going so well. I thought that we… you said we’d do something nice for today.”
My arms feel heavy and sluggish, the exact opposite of how my brain feels. I feel like I’m on fire, my chest tight, and my heart racing too fast. Valdemar only smiles at me, calm and serene. Everything I am not. How I want to be them, want to be theirs, and yet I am not. Yet I am my father’s son.
Yet I am so scared.
“Relax, little duckling.”
How many times have they told me this? How many times have I disobeyed them?
“I’m really sorry, whatever I did—I know you hate apologies like this, and I’m sorry about that too, but I—”
“This is no punishment.”
“Then please… more candles, please.”
“Not yet. I will light more while I am working.”
“Working?”
“Are you not excited about your birthday present, Damien? It is quite special. A real treat.”
I stare ahead into the dark corners of the room, trying and failing not to see the twisted shapes that flicker with the few candles lit. The cellar always terrifies me; this is Valdemar’s domain, their private quarters. I only am granted entry when I have something to do, a test to complete to gauge my “progress.”
This does not feel like a test, though. This is a different fear, a different dread.
“Where is abuela?”
“Are you not sick of her and her mother henning?” Valdemar sounds hurt as they clasp a bony hand on my shoulder. I want to punch myself for making them upset. “You have spent all day with her. Am I not enough anymore, Damien?” They prefer when I punch myself in my stomach—they think it makes a funny sound.
I have to stop myself from gasping as they are suddenly in front of me. Their wide eyes are nearly bulging, the corners of their mouth sagging, like a mask being melted off. They have twisted their face into something that they think is sad, and it nearly makes me weep. Not because it is sad, but because it is scary, and they know it’s scary, and they’re doing it to scare me.
“O-Of course you are, Master, I just—”
“Do you not trust me anymore?”
“Of course I do! Master, you are my everything—the light in the dark, the reason within the madness. I just—”
“Then follow me, duckling, and hush your whining.”
Their tone is once again their usual, shrill annoyance. They pull me along with them, their wide smile returning too. They try situating me on some sort of table; I fumble to shimmy up on it. Abuela says that I am getting fatter every day, that I’m cursed with my mama’s childbearing hips and there’s nothing I can do about it. She says they get that from her abuela, but she always remained skinny like a board. I don’t know what any of that really means. I cannot tell if she resents me for my body or if she is just disgusted by it. She says I remind her of my mama, who reminds her of her sister, but I don’t see any of that. I just see mounds of flesh and stretch marks that weren’t there before.
Vulgora says to be hefty is to have a good defense. Vlastomil tells me the chubbiest grubs are the happiest. I say that it makes sitting up on top of tables more difficult, and I think Valdemar agrees.
After some effort, I am sitting and looking around again. Valdemar normally demands eye contact, but for now, they allow me to do this. In the low light, I can see that there is a desk with a variety of books and tools on the side of them. I cannot make out the tombs, the writing is too small, and the diagrams gibberish to me. It is not the typical anatomy books that they normally show me, though; for once, I can tell it is arcane in nature.
“Is this… a test?”
At this, they laugh. I don’t understand why they always laugh at me, even if I haven’t said anything funny.
“Oh no. No, no, no, silly duckling.”
Am I really such a fool that you must always laugh at me?
“Think of this as a reward for passing so many of your tests, actually.”
I am at first ecstatic to hear this, smiling without thinking. It hurts my cheeks to do this, but the praise dulls that ache.
“A stepping stone to your final accomplishment.”
But then I remember that you aren’t my mother nor my father nor my abuela nor Vulgora nor Vlastomil.
“A necessary procedure to receive—and what a procedure it will be! You are so, so lucky. I’ll keep you awake so that you may enjoy it thoroughly—I know I will! Isn’t that exciting, Damien?”
I am no longer smiling. I think I may puke, actually, or faint. Or perhaps just die right here and now.
“What… What kind of procedure? Where is abuela? Does she know?”
They would like that—if I died here in front of them. I think I would too; I know they would take such good care of my body.
“There you go crying for mommy again.” They are angry again, this time not even bothering to pretend to be hurt.
They would treat me so nicely if I died right now. That is the only way they will ever treat me so nicely.
“I’m not… I’m not a baby! I just—”
“That’s the one test you will never pass—but we can still do this. Despite that weakness, you are still more than ready for this.”
Doctors always scared me as a child. Even Uncle Julian scared me when he gave me checkups. Mama and Papa always held my hands, both of them, while he would examine my eyes, or my temperature, or the spots growing on my hands and feet.
“This is a gift, Damien. One that no mere human can typically ever experience. Do not spoil it by being such a brat. Be grateful I am even giving it to you.”
I am alone now. Alone and yet not alone. Never alone. My hands are cold and they are empty and I just want my mama and papa to hold them.
“You are stronger than any mere human. And I will take care of you every step of the way. Doesn’t that sound so nice?”
I stopped holding my papa’s hand right before I left. I think he hated how my hands felt, even with the gloves on. So I stopped holding them, stopped letting him touch them.
“Do you trust me, Damien?”
Valdemar does not hold my hand either. Instead, they hold my arms, keeping me in place, forcing me to look into their unblinking eyes. Their hands are so cold.
“I trust you, Master.”
They will not hold my hand while my heart is beating.
“Do you love me, Damien?”
Do you love me?
“Yes.”
“Drink this, then.”
A cup is slipped between my trembling hands. Already, I can smell it’s some sort of strong alcohol. Stronger than the usual wine they make me drink before our tests. I hesitate at first, the smell nauseating, but the small quirk of Valdemar’s thin eyebrow has me gulping the glass down quickly. It burns my throat and makes my eyes water even more. I am retching as soon as I gulp the last drop, coughing into my hands as the world spins around me. I feel a heat rush to the top of my head before settling in my gut, heavy.
“Come now, child of the palace lush!” Valdemar is laughing at me again; they are already refilling the glass. I am trying so hard not to puke on the floor again. They were so mad at me the last time. “You must get better at this. You’ll put your poor father to shame.”
I want to go home.
“Now lie down, little duckling.”
I want to go home and hold my father’s hand.
“What’s going on, Master?” I am finally crying, unable to stop myself anymore. I am frantic and slurring my words. I hate how it sounds. They always laugh at my lisp. “I’m so scared, please, I don’t—”
“Damien.”
They are forcing me to drink again; this time I have a harder time swallowing. They're still smiling, still trying to soothe me in that strange way.
“—I didn’t mean to upset you—”
A gift. This is a gift that no one else can have. Be grateful.
“Damien, you need to wake up sweetie. This isn’t real, Damien, you must wake up.”
A gate from this world to the next; one that will follow you wherever you go, wherever I may need it.
“Damien? Damien, wake up!”
I just need to make a few, tiny, intricate cuts to do it. Then you will be useful to me. Just lie back now, close your eyes if you need to, and let your master work. Yes?
“Damien, please, this is not real, you are not there—!”
Yes. Let us begin, duckling. You can hold my hand if it gets too painful. You can even watch if you get bored keeping your eyes closed! Won't that be fun?
“Damien! The session is done!”
Happy birthday, Damien.
“Damien, darling, enough!”
And then suddenly I am holding my father’s trembling hands. He is all I see at first, his face red and wet. He’s crying. He’s shaking me. I realize that I am screaming so I stop. I don’t want to hurt his ears. Everyone is crying or about to cry. This is normally how people are whenever I am in the room now. Mama is by my other side, too, brushing my hair from my face. I'm so sweaty, my heart still pounding.
Tita Imee is in front of me, paler and older-looking. She looks like she may faint, and a servant across the room moves to assist her. Good. I would feel so bad if she up and died because Nadia put her up to this. Old Man Sam would blame me though—nothing is Nadia’s fault.
In fact, Nadia’s wide eyes are glued to me, her mouth slightly ajar. She isn’t crying, but she looks like she might, those red eyes switching from my weeping mother to my weeping father. The first thing I feel is a sick satisfaction that I have upset her in some sort of way, that her plan failed. And now she has made my parents cry. My parents, who thought they had lost their son, are crying because she bullied us into doing this stupid test.
She is a failure.
And then I am sobbing, gasping and crying out and flinging myself into Papa’s arms. He embraces me immediately, his hands in my hair, holding my face close to his chest. Everything is so blurred after that as he fumbles to run us out of the room.
“We are done!” I hear him snap at Nadia. I want to be happy, but I can’t right now. But I am proud—I have never been more proud of him. “We are finished with your ceaseless interrogations! My son has nothing to hide, damn you! Nothing!”
And then we are out of the room, stepping hurriedly side by side. Papa is covering my face with his scarf; he knows I hate how the servants stare. It feels like every day I am being paraded into the palace, only to be rushed out by one of my parents. I know that Mama is still in the room, most likely arguing with Nadia. I wonder if she is fighting back this time. Or is she sitting there with her jaw glued shut now?
The last time. This will be the last time. I know it; father never shouts at Nadia. No one does. But things are different, have been different, and they are even more different now that I am home.
Hidden behind Papa’s scarf, I smile despite my crying. My tears slip past the gap in my teeth. I smile because I did it. Because there will be no more questions. No more prodding. I won’t have to lie as much. I won’t have to keep this mask up so much. I will have peace, even just a little.
I beat Nadia. I beat her at her own, stupid game. I am smarter than her, smarter than my parents, smarter than any stupid little magician they put in front of me.
I am victorious.
Master, are you proud of me? Did you see me? Did you see how good I did?
Donna has a fantasy they've been dying to try with Nadia—she is more than eager to indulge them while she shares her own fantasies too.
Pairing: Nadia x Donna (with minor references to ValDonna)
Rating: Lemon 18+ MINORS DNI🤺🤺
WC: 1800
Fic contains: face sitting/ass eating, in general smothering, established dom/sub dynamics, clit play, descriptions of vaginal fingering, and hypothetical kinky situations that include mentions of outdoor sex, public sex, and fantasized ownership/being collared.
A/N: I have no other explanation other than I needed more Nadia face-sitting in my life 🥴🥴
“Mistress…” Donna breathed out as they turned their face up, panting against Nadia’s sex. She opened an eye at them, one hand clamped to her breast, the other entwined in her hair. “Can I make a… specific request?”
“Request?” Nadia huffed, a wry smile on her face. “Are you in any position to make requests?”
Donna let out a small, bashful noise as they bit down on their lip. Gods, Nadia was filling up all their senses. She was all they could see, all they could hear, touch, taste, smell. They wiggled their hips; they were face down and ass up, just as Nadia liked it.
“Oh but… it’s really for you! If you would want to, that is…”
“Mm, you are lucky I enjoy your vivid imagination so much.” Nadia laughed before sliding her legs under herself as she sat up. Donna quickly got to their knees, sitting up straight and proper. Such a good pet they were. Whoever had trained them did a bang-up job—it couldn’t possibly have been Valerius. Whoever they were, Nadia was sure she would need to send them a gift basket one day.
“What is it that you want, my sweet little toy?” Nadia cooed as she pet Donna’s face. They eagerly pushed into her touch, excitement clear on their face.
“I was just wondering… I mean, again, if you like this sort of thing, if you would want to… maybe… sit on my face?”
Nadia blinked at them, her other hand inching to rest above her breast. Donna shrank back, their face burning.
“It’s totally fine if that squicks you out!” They quickly rambled. “I know not every domme wants to sit on her subs face! It’s just… You can if you want is all I’m saying—”
“You have thought of it, then?” Nadia cut in, her tone dipping lower as she squeezed Donna’s cheeks between her fingers. They whimpered, rubbing their thighs together. “You have imagined you lying below me as I use your face as a pretty little cushion? Unable to do anything but lick me and writhe beneath me? Completely smothered by me?”
Donna shuddered, their cunt throbbing between their legs.
“I… Y-Yes, mistress. Exactly that.” Donna swallowed. “Very well put.”
“I adore your wicked imagination, Donatello. Lie back for me. Now.”
Donna quickly obeyed, lying down so their head rested on Nadia’s pillows. They kept their arms snug to their sides, wiggling into the sheets until they were comfortable. Nadia hummed, her eyes tracing over every inch of them. She noted every slight twitch, every shimmy of their hips. Wordlessly, she lightly dragged her fingers up their thigh, tickling over their stomach. Donna gasped, the small touch alone sending a fire deep below their gut. Nadia grinned, stretching her fingers to cup underneath their breast.
“You love to be used by me, is that right, pet?” she breathed, leaning down above Donna’s face.
“Yes, mistress,” they whispered, their voice quaking. “I love it.”
“Any of my twisted wants and desires—you would try to indulge them all?”
“Oh yes, yes of course!”
Nadia grinned before she turned away from them. Donna could barely react before they were crying out as Nadia flung her leg over their chest. Immediately the only thing they could see was the round curve of Nadia’s ass. She was grinning down at them, peering over her back to catch a glimpse of their expression. Not giving them any more time to adjust, Nadia immediately planted herself down, stretching her cheeks apart before pushing them together on Donna’s face.
“What else would you do, I wonder?” she mused, her voice raising in volume now. Donna whimpered into her; the vibration of it was nearly maddening. “Do you have any ideas, Donatello?”
Donna tried to open their mouth, but as soon as they did, Nadia began rocking her hips back and forth, further muffling them. Shutting their eyes, they brought their lips closer to her, lapping at her with abandon. She hadn’t even needed to instruct them; it was dizzying not to eat her out her ass like this.
“Oh, I can’t hear you like this!” Nadia gasped, a wide smile on her face. “I shall have to give you examples, won’t I? Simply nod your head for me, little toy.”
Donna quickly nodded, moaning into Nadia as they licked and teased her with the tip of their tongue. She growled, biting down on her lip as she dug her nails into their thighs.
“Let me see,” she huffed, setting a rhythm to her hips as she pondered. “Would you let me take you on a hunt with me? Would you do every little task I give you, tend to me as I see fit? Even if I were to ask you to strip down in those very woods and let me take you there, on the cold ground? Our bodies already sweaty and feverish from the day?”
Donna let out a muffled “Yes!” as they nodded. Nadia laughed, loving the sensation of their words on her asshole.
“You would even do this? Be my seat even after a day of hunting and riding?”
More frantic nodding; more muffled cries.
“Of course, you would. Of course. But would you have me even if the whole world could see you? Would you let me dress you up however I wanted, however revealing it may be? Have you collared and leashed at my side like a prized pet at the next gala?”
Nadia braced herself for the next series of cries and whimpers, for the feeling of their face tickling her as they nodded their head.
“I would feed you by hand the entire evening, have everyone know you’re too silly and too precious to eat with your own hands. And then I would simply throw you on the table, have you face whatever crowd of people may be there—perhaps even your lover, Valerius. And I would finger you right there, bringing you orgasm after orgasm for all to see with my hand alone.”
As she spoke, Nadia dipped one of her hands between Donna’s clenched thighs. She ran the pad of the finger between their clit, sifting through their bush and rubbing in small, delicate circles. Donna was practically screaming into her, their entire body trembling. She grinned, leaning down as she slapped her hips onto their mouth.
“Oh, or I would keep you all to myself. Keep you tethered right here, in my private rooms all day and all night. I would visit you whenever I had the urge to use your mouth or use this pretty pussy of yours,” Nadia paused to drag her finger from their clit to their hole. They gasped, wiggling underneath her. “Or even have you conjure me a nice, thick cock for me to ride. Maybe even use my own strap on your tight little ass? Oh, who am I kidding; I could do all of that and more to you, and you would love it!”
“Yes, Mistress! Gods, I just want to be used by you!” Donna finally turned their face enough so their words could be heard. Nadia laughed, an airy sound, before she forced them back under herself.
“That’s right, Donatello,” Nadia panted, her voice growing shriller. She humped their face with a fevered frenzy now; she rubbed and fingered their clit with two fingers, keeping her pace steady and brutal. Donna was screaming and writhing beneath her, their tongue plunging in and out of her as they cried out into her. “Yes! Yes! You’re my toy, my precious little doll! I can use you however I see fit and you’ll love it all! Love being owned by me!”
Donna let out another slurred “yes” as they licked and pressed their tongue into her. Nadia was crying out, her back arching back into them as she played with their clit. They felt euphoric, their mind hazy and blank, their entire body buzzing with life. Their climax was close, so close, and she was keeping them on the edge. They could hear how wet they were over their sloppy kisses, could only think of the burning pleasure surging from their cunt.
“Cum for me, Donatello. Cum while I sit on your beautiful face!”
That was all it took; Donna was practically screaming into her as their legs twitched and spasmed; Nadia could feel them squirt their climax, a sick pride swelling her chest. Now that was a finale—and they were even still licking and kissing her ass as they rode each wave of their climax! It was too much, even for her; she planted down firmly on their face, smothering out any other noise as she arched back into them, moaning her own release as she humped down on their face. Her thighs were crushing their face as she slowed her movements to a halt.
They stayed like that for another moment, both frozen in their own lingering pulses of pleasure. Finally, Nadia dismounted them, her hair wild and cheeks a deep red. Donna was no better; their entire face was slick, their skin red and mouth damp. Gods, they looked so cute when they were disheveled. Nadia smiled, lifting them up to sit up by their arms. They swooned back slightly, allowing Nadia to grab them and steady them. They were shocked when she pulled them close to her chest, their face pressed against her breasts.
“You are wonderful,” she mused, softly petting their hair as they nuzzled closer to her. “You exceed my expectations every time I have you. Do you know how rare that is?”
Donna could only shake their head; any words were lost on them now, it was clear.
“Well, it is very rare. I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been some time. And I hope I exceeded some of yours?”
Donna quickly nodded, pulling Nadia closer into a proper embrace. She giggled, resting her cheek on their hair. She petted their back, humming as she held them for a moment. Donna’s eyes drifted shut as they only focused on both of their breathing. They tried to match Nadia’s calm, steady deep breaths, wanting to keep their bodies in sync. The bed below them felt like it was floating like they were out at sea. And in some ways, that’s exactly where they were.
“Now, my Donatello,” Nadia whispered into their ear. “You made a bit of a mess on my bed, and you have a bit of a mess on your face. I’m going to take you to my baths so we may get clean together. Do you understand?”
Donna only nodded, just barely opening their eyes to look at her. They registered how tenderly Nadia dressed them both in sheer robes. How with little effort she carried them in her arms, encouraging them to cling to her neck. They registered how good she smelled, how nice it was to feel her hands on their skin. How safe it felt, being in her presence alone.
Day One: Baths + Group sex +Orgasm Denial + Food Play (The Courtiers x Donna)
Day one for the @the-midsummer-masquerade; AO3 link here // Masterlist here
Donatello and Valerius are side-tracked by Vesuvia's finest courtiers who they have no concept of time nor consequences.
Content warnings (other than the day's themes): monster/human relationships, tentacles, group sex, bondage, spanking, choking, verbal humiliation/general foul language, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, oral play, food play, cucking
W/C: 5515 because I apparently have no fucking chill
A/N: We are starting this week off with a very loud bang aka a proper courtegy 😤😤😤 lots of banter, rough sex, and bullying of Valerius ahead
MINORS DNI OR I TAKE YA LUNCH MONEY🤺🤺🤺
Volta was the last person Valerius expected to see dragging his Donatello down a winding palace hallway, and yet there she was, politely but urgently tugging along a sheepish Donna. Blinking, Valerius tilted his head, some part of him wondering if he had eaten something bad today or if this was some trick or illusion. Donna should have been with him getting ready in the private rooms Nadia had procured for them . The masquerade was still some time away, but already the palace was bursting with frantic staff, each one hellbent on ensuring all of the evening’s plans was up to the Countess’s high standards. Donna should have been frantically making sure they were up to Nadia’s high standards. With him , not Volta of all people.
Frowning, Valerius quickly trailed after them, glancing nervously at his pocket watch. There was still time. But not enough for whatever those lot had planned.
***
The consul was shocked as Volta led the way to one of the palace’s baths; truly, she was full of surprises it seemed. He could hear Donna laughing with her, allowing her to drag them along. Part of it was endearing, hearing their laugh. Another part was aggravating—they had things to do! Since when were they so irresponsible? That was… Well, it wasn’t his job , but it wasn’t like Donna to promote such bad behavior either.
“Donatello!”
He couldn’t deny the small rush it gave him to see them jump at their name being called. He had seen them instantly wilt when Nadia would utter it; he could get used to them doing so with him.
“Valerius? What are you… Volta , did you lie to me?”
It was the procurator’s turn to turn into a sheepish mess, frantically fluttering her hands as Donna crossed their arms. Valerius quickly stepped to their side, wrapping his arm around their shoulder.
“Yes, Procurator, please explain what you are doing with my partner of all people.”
“Oh! Oh! Volta didn’t want to lie, Donna! But you see… You see, brutish Vulgora did not want Valerius to join our games!” Valerius felt his entire face ignite, anger and jealousy stinging his ears. Donna deflated at that, pouting down at the frazzled woman. “It was Vlastomil who insisted that Volta lie! Oh, but Volta is so so sorry! She does not like lying to her most beloved friend, Donatello!”
“For the last time,” Donna sighed, suddenly raising their voice so that they could be heard in the next room over. It was then that Valerius noted the faint sounds of a commotion in the baths; splashing and shouting, for the most part. “Valerius is my lover . You do not get to lie and exclude him just so you can all… Do whatever it is you want to do to me. Either he comes or I’m leaving. Got it, Vulgora ?”
“What? Valerius is here? What the fu—Volta!” Volta tugged at her hair as they could all hear Vulgora bellowing from the baths. Valerius was too hung up on the word “lover” to even properly react; his heart was racing as he fiddled with his braid. Donna nudged their hip into him, trying to remain in control of the situation.
“Volta tried! Valerius is too weaselly!”
“ Weaselly—?” Valerius's face could not become redder if he tried.
“You’re a big ol’ coward sending Volta to do your dirty work, Vulgora!” Donna shouted over him, a smug grin on their face as they heard the tell-tale sound of Vulgora slapping out of the bath. “You wana fuck me, then you gotta put some effort in. That goes for you too, old man!”
Valerius hugged Donna closer to himself; gods, they could be so vulgar with their language, and it always made him… feel things, things he didn’t want to think too hard about.
“Since when does fucking you involve effort , little bug?” Vulgora pounded around the corner, fully nude and dripping with water and suds. Volta and Donna both seemed unphased; Valerius kept his face turned, his eyes focusing on the wall and not on their bulging biceps or glistening gut or thick, thick thighs that could easily do irreparable damage to him if they— “Oh this is the worst, Valerius is already popping a boner. At least Donna puts up some sort of chase.”
“P-Popping a—I am not , how dare you—”
“Oh, hush. If dealing with your prissy attitude is what I need to get my dick wet, then I’m all for it.”
“Your dick’s already wet,” Donna teased, tilting their chin up at them. Vulgora stood roughly the same height as them, though they were much girthier than Donna was. Still, provoking a fight with them was always fun; perhaps Sam had rubbed off a bit too much on them? “I can dry it off for you though.”
“Oh, you wana go already—?”
“Is Donatello here? I’m getting bored , and Valdemar is the worst possible company!” Vlastomil’s nasally voice suddenly cut into the conversation; the small group thought they could hear a faint giggle too, undoubtedly Valdemar.
“You idiot, they’re here with Valerius ! We established this like… five minutes ago that our dear Volta fucked up!”
“Volta did no such thing! The consul is a weasel!”
“Stop saying that! All of you stop insulting me this instant! ”
“Or what , pretty boy? Gonna have Donna beat me up for you?”
“Oh my stars, can we just go into the bath already before the night is over ?”
Donna didn’t wait for anyone else’s approval; they were already stripping off their day clothes as they stomped to the bath, kicking off their shoes as they marched away. Valerius let his complaints die in his throat; they didn’t have time for this, and yet now that he knew he wasn’t invited to… well, whatever this was, he wasn’t going to leave now. He followed after them, sticking his nose up in the air as he politely stepped out of his heels and placed them aside. Vulgora growled, easily flinging Volta over their shoulder as she giggled, her frantic mood subsiding.
“Donna is always much better with the consul anyway, dear Vulgora!”
“Little Volta, I do not want to hear it from you.”
***
As expected, Vlastomil was already bathing while Valdemar sat on the edge of the bath, kicking the water at him as he whined. They were both wearing sheer, black robes; Valdemar’s usual headwraps were swapped for a more appropriate bonnet. Donna bit the insides of their cheeks, resisting the urge to make a comment about it.
Vlastomil instantly perked up at their arrival, very interested in their unabashed nudity.
“ This is the shindig you all were begging me to come to?” Donna laughed, slowly dipping their toe into the steaming water. It was hot , much hotter than how they normally would want it. But then again, they shouldn’t have been surprised by this group . “I can watch Valdemar upset people any time of the day.”
“The missing component was you, wormlet,” Vlastomil quickly swept over to them, cutting through the water with ease as Donna sank into the bath. They sat themself down on the wall’s built-in seat, smirking up at him. He was much taller than them, taller than all of them actually, and they enjoyed that about him immensely. Valerius huffed, still clothed, as he watched Donna eye the praetor up and down with little shame. “Though I would have loved it if we didn’t have a… sour grape in our mix.”
“Sour grape? Really? Your immaturity speaks volumes , praetor.”
“See, this is exactly why we don’t want you here, sour grape ,” Vulgora butted in, pushing past Valerius as they submerged themself back into the steaming water next to Donna. Valerius squawked, nearly toppling over with the force of their shove. As Volta straightened him out, Valdemar giggled, scooting closer to Donna and the others on the edge of the bath.
“Volta is sorry, Valerius.” Volta smoothed down Valerius’s arm as he seethed. “They will all be calmed soon enough with the help of your Donna.” His face heated up as she slowly began undressing, fully at ease with her motions as she stripped. Once nude, she had stepped aside to an alcove and retrieved two robes and a hefty basket full of different fruits at her hip. Only Valerius was clothed as he awkwardly stood outside of the circle, too many conflicting thoughts buzzing in his head.
“I am about… hmm… Two seconds away from leaving?” Donna piped up, reclining back on their elbows as they glared up at Vlastomil. He squirmed under their stare, his cheeks igniting. “Insulting my lover does nothing if you want to get me going.”
“Y-You misunderstand me, Donatello—”
“Oh right, it’s insulting you that gets you off, right?” Vulgora cut in, easily looping their large arm around Donna’s neck. Donna’s confidence was momentarily thrown as they sputtered, digging their nails into the meat of Vulgora’s arms as they flexed, choking them. “How could we forget?”
“I know you guys— ah !—aren’t the brightest bunch, I get it—” Before Donna could finish, Vulgora began strangling them properly, cutting off any more of their words. Valdemar leaned forward, their interest growing as Donna’s face turned redder, their hair suddenly igniting into a similar hue as Vlastomil stepped between their legs.
“How curious,” Valdemar finally spoke, reclining forward on their arm. “If you black out, does your hair also lose all color? I would love to see it.”
“ That won’t be happening,” Valerius interjected, leaning down over them. They turned their nose up at him, rolling their eyes.
“Oh, lighten up, sour grape,” Vulgora drawled, finally releasing Donna as Vlastomil pet through their hair. They were swooning, trying to heave in more air. The heat of the water made it harder to breathe, their heart hammering in their ears. Still, a wide smile was already on Donna’s face as they spread their legs wider under the water, subtly stroking themself on Vlastomil's thigh. “Everyone here is having fun but you. And you wonder why we don’t want you here?”
Valerius pouted, his cheeks stinging. Volta tugged at his shirt sleeve, sheepishly offering him a robe. Rolling his eyes, he turned before beginning to strip.
“Aw, no show for us, consul?” Vlastomil called out to him as he changed his and Donna’s positions; he sat and balanced them on his lap, facing Donna towards himself. Vulgora moved to stand behind them, keeping their hands close to their neck as they dragged their teeth over Donna's shoulders. It was clear that Donna was trying to hold back their moaning—and was failing. Valdemar had taken a strand of Donna’s hair, noting every subtle color shift as Vlastomil bounced them in his lap. “So sorry that annoying ex-count isn’t here. Perhaps then you would feel more motivated, hmm?”
“ You—! ” Valerius whipped around, pointing an accusatory finger at the man before he bit down on his tongue. Gods, Donna looked so good like that, clearly blissful as Vulgora nipped their neck, Vlastomil’s large, thin hands cupping under their breasts. Their head lolled to the side as Vulgora once again began to choke them, this time much slower, methodical even. Valdemar was looking back at him, a wicked gleam to their eyes as they grinned up at him. Huffing, Valerius shook his hair out from its braid, glaring at the group as Volta sat back down at the bath’s edge next to Valdemar. She watched the trio intently, an obvious blush on her face.
Seeing as all the attention was on Donna, Valerius quickly stripped off and folded the rest of his clothing. Only Valdemar was staring at him, and he chose to ignore their burning stare.
“You’re erect already.”
“I’m aware.”
“Tell me, does seeing your lover getting fondled by your coworkers turn you on?” Valdemar seemed to have choked on the word “lover,” which would have been funnier if Valerius wasn’t being engulfed by a wave of shame. “Would it be more alluring if it was a group of say strangers? Or does knowing the parties give it a certain… edge?”
“You… It isn’t—”
“You didn’t want Valerius here to kill the mood, yet you all have Doctor Sex Ed narrating for us in the dryest way possible?” Donna suddenly cut in, their voice hoarse and a bit shaky. Valdemar’s head snapped to them, their mouth a thin line. Valerius giggled, always elated at how quickly his Donna would come to his defense. He flipped his hair over his shoulder as he stepped to join Volta’s side, glaring over her shoulder at the quaestor.
“Oh? Is the little duckling upset the attention wasn’t on them for once?” Valdemar leaned closer to Donna, pulling their hair harder. They yelped, shifting on Vlastomil’s lap. They felt the ridges of his erection pushing up against them; they shivered, hissing as Valdemar yanked their hair again. “Okay, we can play this game; I love games. Tell me, then: does screwing older men do something special to you? Is there a certain thrill to being on the lap of someone not twice but possibly thrice your age?”
“Oh fuck off , Valdemar—”
“They do have a point, wormlet,” Vlastomil purred, licking up the water on Donna’s breasts, flicking his tongue over their nipple. They gasped, crying out as Vulgora squeezed the meat of their hips, digging their nails into their skin. “I’ve met that horrid man you called a lover before. He’s a bit old for you, no?”
“Like this little slut cares about any of that,” Vulgora huffed into Donna’s neck. “They don’t care about age or how someone looks—if they can get a quick fuck, they’ll take it .”
Donna all but screamed as Vulgora bit down on their throat; their hands shot to Vlastomil’s shoulders, their nails digging into him as he laughed into their tits. Their head was swimming; they thought they could feel their heartbeat down south, their entire body on fire and yearning . Gods, they hated when these assholes were right , and yet they couldn’t even form a retort to anything they had said.
Valerius was silent, his eyes wide as he watched them all. Volta was eyeing him up curiously as she bit into a pear. His erection looked painful , and yet he wasn’t touching himself at all, instead digging his own nails into his thighs to the point that she feared they would be bruised. Donna was shrieking and gasping as Vulgora and Vlastomil toyed with them, each biting and pinching every tender spot on them. Valdemar prodded them the entire time, their back to Volta and Valerius as they happily taunted the poor scribe.
“Volta cannot tell if you are enjoying yourself or are upset, consul,” Volta whispered, a strange air of glee tinging her words. This snapped Valerius back to reality. He had been so consumed with his own thoughts, he had forgotten he was even there to begin with. Bashful, he tried to hide his erection with the robe.
“I… I am fine, I just…”
“You seem faint. Here, have this,” Volta plucked out a cherry from the basket, offering it up for Valerius to take. However, she pulled it away from him when he tried to reach for it with his hand. Stunned, he blinked at the woman as she only smiled at him.
Oh ?
Lowering his glare, Valerius leaned forward, opening his mouth as he inched closer. Volta’s smile grew wider as she pulled the cherry away again, just as he was about to make contact with his lips. He huffed, his original annoyance now replaced with something else . Since when had Volta ever been… this coy ? Normally, she was just a feeble little thing, but this sudden switch was not unwelcomed at all. For a brief moment, Valerius wondered if it was all a ruse, if this was finally her moment to let her mask slip.
“What’s wrong, Consul? Volta is just trying to help.”
Volta all but squealed as Valerius lurched forward, practically fumbling into her lap as he caught the cherry into his mouth, making a point of sucking on her fingers as he pulled back with an audible pop. She giggled, nudging the basket closer as she settled neatly into his lap instead; she was shorter than Donna and much lither; it was like she was barely there. Still, he shuddered as she rubbed her ass against his skin. His hands landed on the small of her back, keeping her close as she fished out another fruit to taunt him with.
“You… You knew I was going to follow you. You knew from the beginning, didn’t you?”
“Volta doesn’t know what you are talking about, sour grape . Here!” Volta shushed him by pushing a rather fat grape between Valerius’s pursed lips. “Much better. Have another.” Valerius squirmed as he was practically force-fed different fruits. Juice and pulp tickled his chin and cheeks as Volta giggled. He all but melted when she licked the growing mess away, humming as she did. Any time he tried speaking up, she would silence him again, wiggling her hips as he struggled to swallow. “The consul should be happy he gets to sample this food—Volta does not like to share.”
As Valerius struggled to grasp exactly what was happening to him, Donna was struggling to swallow down Vlastomil’s absurdly long tongue. He licked their lips and mouth with little care, moaning as Donna whined and pretended to try to inch away from his mouth. Vulgora was steadily pumping their cock against Donna’s ass, keeping an arm around Donna’s neck to hold them in place. They would flex their muscles at random, cackling at the way Donna would choke and sputter.
“P-Ple ase , I cah… can’t breathe!”
“I do not understand why you feel the need to declare the obvious,” Valdemar mused, resting their chin in the palm of their hand as they studied the scene intently. “Besides, we all know erotic asphyxiation is one of your many fetishes.”
“Who’s the one… the one declaring the obvious?” Donna slurred, shoving Vlastomil’s face away just to glare at Valdemar. Valdemar glared back, pouting for a moment before their expression turned neutral.
Donna didn’t like that.
In an instant, Valdemar slipped into the water, going under the water as Donna struggled in Vlastomil’s and Vulgora’s embraces. However, there was nothing to be done; in an instant, Valdemar was on them, easily pulling them away and under with them. Valerius tried to turn his attention back to them, panic ringing alarm bells in his head. However, Volta, kept him seated, putting all her weight down on him as she pinched his face in her small hand, cooing down at him.
As quickly as they pulled Donna under, Valdemar released them, hooking their arms behind their back as Valdemar allowed them the liberty to catch their breath.
“You have tried my patience far too much, duckling. My original theory was that you were a “service sub,” but it’s clear you’re nothing more than a sniveling brat .”
“Wow… You went to school to learn that or something? Studying up to impress everyone at the masquerade? That's cute.”
“I see you will never learn how to pick your battles. But you will find I am a strict teacher.”
“I thought you were a physician— fuck !” Donna screeched as their hair was pulled again, their head snapping back. Vulgora and Vlastomil had sunk down into the water, grinning ear to ear as they watched as tendril after tendril writhed from Valdemar’s back. Valdemar kept Donna’s head pulled back, forcing them to look into their eyes.
“Any more foolish remarks?” It was barely a whisper, Valdemar’s icy tone cutting through the heat of the water. Donna blinked up at them, their thoughts whirling.
“… So you’re not a physician or a teacher—you’re a squid?”
Valerius erupted in laughter, nearly choking on a peach slice as Volta giggled. Valdemar hissed , yanking on Donna’s hair one last time before they seized the smaller scribe with a cluster of slick tentacles. Donna gasped, wriggling as they were easily hefted out of the water. Shit . Valdemar tightened each tentacle around their arms, legs, and waist until it was near bruising. They pondered, briefly, how Valerius would explain to Nadia that they had been hate-fucked by a steaming tentacle demon before the night even started? Perhaps they should script something now, just to make sure she wouldn’t think too lowly of them—
“Hold on there, Valdemar,” Vlastomil interjected, rising up from the water. Donna nearly wept, a smile tugging on their lips. “The horrid little Pontifex and I were not finished there.”
“Geez… my knight in shining armor.” Donna groaned, though their words held less weight to it. They whimpered as Valdemar struck their thigh with a thinner tendril with a wet thwack.
“Well your real hero is a coward,” Vulgora sneered, rolling their eyes before glaring sharply at Valerius. He was too preoccupied keeping Volta balanced in his lap as she kissed and nipped his lips and cheeks. Donna slumped forward, already too exhausted to put up any more of a fight.
“What are you both proposing, then?” Valdemar sighed as they kept Donna suspended in the air. Idly, as if bored, they forced Donna’s legs open, keeping their hands pulled behind their back. There was an added layer of humiliation knowing Valdemar felt almost nothing from this display; meanwhile, Donna could hardly breathe at being exposed like this, at feeling all those eyes glued to their sex.
“Lower them a bit,” Vlastomil continued, threading his long fingers together. Shrugging, Valdemar used more tendrils to bend and bind Donna’s legs, dipping them so only their knees were submerged in the water. Donna whined, gritting their teeth as the three courtiers enclosed them. Now their ass was on fully display, and the rising heat of the water was making it harder and harder to think clearly. They could only focus on those eyes, gods all those eyes, and those smiles all on them.
“I take it that, ah… sorry , is a bit too late, huh, V?”
“ Very late, duckling. But I suspect you’ll enjoy this anyway—actually, it will be quite intriguing to watch you reach orgasm over such torture.”
Volta perked up, turning her head back to look at the scene behind her, finally allowing Valerius to wheeze and catch his breath.
“ Gods, woman, you are insatiable —”
“Your beloved is about to be thoroughly debauched, consul,” Volta said so flatly that Valerius hardly registered it. But hearing his Donna screech as Vulgora laid a rather heavy slap to their ass brought him back to reality.
“Donatello—!”
“Is perfectly fine! But let us join them, quickly now, before all the fun is over!”
Volta easily shimmied off of Valerius’s lap and into the bath; she glanced back at him to grin before sweeping over to peer from behind Vulgora’s back. Valerius hissed as he submerged himself in the hot water, quickly sloshing to the scene at hand.
Donna was gritting their teeth as Vulgora delivered another harsh slap to their ass. They could hardly focus on the shooting sting as their breasts were again being fondled by Vlastomil, a lecherous smile on his face as their face twisted between pain and pleasure.
“Tell me, Donna, does it hurt more when Vulgora spanks you now that your skin is wet? I have heard it stings more this way.”
“F-Feels… like a little mosquito bit— Ow! ”
“Feels like a what?”
“ Fuck you !”
“Language, wormlet. You’ll make Valerius faint.” Vlastomil cooed, voice oozing with a tingling sweetness. Donna groaned, shutting their eyes as another strike was dealt, this time harder and at the very seat of their rear. They were too focused on bracing themself for the next slap that they didn't notice the way the skin around Vlastomil’s arms shifted, at the new, creeping appendages looming closer to their mouth. Valerius opened his mouth to speak (or more likely insult the demon), but one of Valdemar’s own tentacles slapped across his lips, silencing him.
“Tut tut, Consul,” Valdemar cooed, wagging a finger at Valerius. All too easily, several tentacles reached for him next, easily dragging him to their side. Valerius screeched into the inky mass over his lips, wriggling in their slick embrace. “Your role in this is to watch , nothing more and nothing less.”
Whimpering, Valerius tried one final time to break free before slumping his shoulders in defeat. Satisfied, Valdemar hefted him out of the water next, mindlessly running each of their tendrils over every inch of Valerius’s body, paying no mind to the way he whined and struggled.
Donna was not better off; they could hardly speak, hardly think , as Vulgora shifted their tactics to running their thick fingers between their lips, laughing as they rubbed angry circles at their clit as Volta too eagerly scratched her sharp nails over their flushed ass. Despite wanting to scream, they could only let out muffled groans as Vlastomil roughly fucked their mouth with both of his slimy tendrils, using his actual hands to grope and pinch their breasts. Donna refused to think of the word “wormy,” though that would be a better description; they kept their eyes shut tight as they were filled on both ends, stray tears coating their lashes as they moaned helplessly. This was quite the humiliating defeat, and the night hadn't even started.
“Look at you, wriggling like a little worm for me,” Vlastomil breathed out, punctuating his sentence by twisting both of their nipples. Donna screeched around his tendrils, trembling as Vulgora pressed their fingers deeper between their lips. “I don’t see why you put up such a struggle every time. Your bratty attitude is easily thwarted.”
“Emphasis on easy , bug,” Vulgora spat, giving Donna’s ass another hard slap before they bit down on one of their cheeks. Donna screamed again, thrashing as Valdemar tightened their tentacles around them; Donna could feel them pulsating over their skin, the sensation clouding their thoughts more and sending an even more aggressive tingle between their legs.
It didn’t take long before Vulgora was slipping two of their thick fingers inside of them; Donna arched back into them, wincing at the fullness. Volta moved to stand behind Vulgora, reaching for their erection and cooing private praises to them as they roughly fingered Donna. Donna moaned loudly around the tendrils in their mouth, their eyes shut tight as they subconsciously rocked with the rhythm Vulgora had set. They couldn’t see that Vlastomil was touching himself now too, keeping one hand to Donna’s throat as he fucked their mouth.
“Look at that, consul,” Valdemar drawled, pulling Valerius closer to their side. He twisted away from them, his face flushed. “See how your little lover so readily gives themself to us? I must know, in as much detail as you can muster, what about this turns you on? Do you wish to be Donna right now? Or do you wish you were in Vlastomil’s place, or even Vulgora’s? Or is it something else entirely?”
As they spoke, they removed the tentacle from Valerius’s mouth. He sputtered and spit out the residue it left on his lips, gritting his teeth as more tendrils slipped between his legs, tightening around the base of his erection. Gods, it hurt, but he knew already Valdemar would never let him finish. They had made that extremely clear.
“I don’t… have to… answer you .”
“You two are made for one another, truly.” Clicking their tongue, Valdemar bent Valerius forward. They closed their eyes as if they were contemplating something as they used their tentacles to spank his ass ruthlessly; perhaps they were savoring the screeches he had let out, the wonderful noises of pain they were so eager for. Or perhaps they were thinking of something else entirely—it was hard to say.
“ Stop it! No! ”
“You can make it stop very easily.”
“I don’t… I can’t— Ow! Ow!— answer you!” Valerius sounded near tears as he kicked his legs, the conflicting feelings of being spanked mixing with those slick tendrils wrapping around the head of his cock. Stars, what a tease.
“You don’t know what you want? How curious. And entirely unbelievable.”
“ You’re unbelievable— Ack! ”
Valdemar only giggled, bouncing Valerius a bit in the air as they struck out at him over and over. His shouting mixed with Donna’s muffled moans and cries; that they could savor, that’s what made any of this tolerable: sweet humiliation and even sweeter pain. They would prefer something a little less human , but they could always indulge in more fun distractions later.
“Your torture is completely self-imposed,” Valdemar yawned as they stretched out their neck. “Just answer my question, and it stops.”
“It’s both! It’s neither, I— gods , what more do you wa-ant from me?”
“So it is the fantasy, then? Your imagination runs wild seeing your lover all beaten and groped? You both envy them and wish to hurt them—is that it?”
Valerius let out a pathetic sob, kicking his legs once again as he could only shake his head. Gods, he just wanted to cum, he really just needed to cum.
“That slut is never going to answer you, Valdemar,” Vulgora finally piped up, their voice huskier as Volta stroked them under the water. “Just like this slut can’t say anything either, even if their mouth wasn’t being fucked.”
“Ooh, and what a lovely mouth it is, ” Vlastomil panted, twisting his tendrils between Donna’s waiting lips. Their tongue swirled between the two of them, drool dripping from their bottom lip as they groaned around them. Their eyes were glazed over, the roots of their hair beginning to swirl with a mix of colors; they were gone, everyone could tell, and they loved every moment of it.
It didn’t take much else for the trio to each reach their climaxes; Vulgora came first with a loud shout as they dug their teeth back into Donna’s ass; Volta squeezed them under the water, giggling as she watched their spent mix in with the water. Vlastomil was close behind them, hissing in Donna’s face as they moaned into his. He withdrew his tendrils from their mouth, slowly shifting into a form that was more human.
Valerius watched on, his eyes half-lidded, as he watched Donna writhed and whimpered, crying as Vulgora curled their fingers, finally, just where they needed them. Fuck, he wanted to be them so badly. Or maybe it was the opposite? Gods, he would never be able to answer.
“More, please, more !” They babbled, the colors in their hair growing more and more abstract and blurred. Valdemar slid their own tentacles all over their body, squeezing their breasts, their thighs, their neck. It was all too much; all those eyes on them, that ruthless pace Vulgora had set, the musky taste still in their mouth. They came with a loud, shrill scream, their toes curling and legs stiffening.
All at once, Valdemar withdrew their tentacles, a wide, satisfied smile on their face. Both Donna and Valerius were dropped unceremoniously into the water; Valerius, despite how fuzzy his own head was, quickly joined their side, taking them in his arms as he looked over their neck and face.
“Pretty boy to save the day,” Vulgora chuckled, sitting back near the wall of the bath with Volta in their lap. Vlastomil was close behind, nearly completely submerged into the water, too content to speak anymore.
Valerius only glared at them; he could barely think of a good enough insult to utter. Only Valdemar hung close to them both, peering over Valerius’s shoulder as Donna easily settled into his arms. They grabbed a piece of their hair in a swift motion before Valerius could stop them.
“How curious. Next time we play, I must have them unconscious. I wonder if the body will still respond this way if the mind is not aware?”
“You… You are impossible.”
Valdemar tilted their head, their smile still wide on their face as they blinked at Valerius. Donna only swatted their hand away, grunting something intelligible to them.
“I may be impossible,” Valdemar stared as they ran their fingers through Valerius’s hair next. He shuddered; their fingers, despite the heat of the water, were icy cold. “But you two are late.”
Valdemar laughed at Valerius’s grave expression; he looked even paler, his expression falling.
“I… What?”
“While Donna was screaming, I heard a clock chime. The masquerade will be happening very soon. It’s lovely to see you two have so much free time this year. You are always welcome to spend it with us , your fellow courtiers, Valerius.”
But Valerius was already dragging Donna away, cursing all of them as he practically was pushing them out of the water. Donna could only follow him blindly, their body heavy and eyelids heavier.
“This is not over!” He shouted back to them, trying to keep his voice sturdy and angry. His only response was a collection of laughter; it followed him as he bolted out the door, Donna’s wet feet slapping behind him.
