![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
queenoftheskies.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: Flashback
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
queenoftheskies
Rating: R
Warnings: explicit non-con sex, torture
Word count: 1,626
Prompt: Dragon Quest VIII, Evil Jessica/Dominico: non-con - "Did you really think I was just going to leave?"
A/N: This prompt is for February 7. I apologize for its tardiness.
Energy glowed white in the darkness of the bedroom, rising from the pattern of runes etched in magic on the floor.
Stupid fool. She resisted the cackle that rose to her lips. Did he really think his feeble magic was enough to keep me out, to thwart my power, my desires?
It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness once the magic glow died. Strange how being tied to a mortal body dimmed the power, how it changed the magic flow, how it altered the otherwise immortal presence that inhabited her body.
Fingers clenched tightly around the scepter, she stepped from the magic circle, anger flushing her cheeks while desire stirred with a flutter in the pit of her stomach. He’d turned her friends into nothing more than common bodyguards, turned the true heir of the sages into a slave while he pretended their power was his. He deserved death, deserved worse than death…
This time, a laugh slipped free of her lips. She wouldn’t demand death from the poor fool today. Oh, no, she’d demand much more: strength and energy and enough pleasure to sate the body and make it easier to control.
Her free hand slid up over one breast and then the other, weighing, exploring, pausing to pinch the nipples and then pressing her legs together when the desire grew great. No, today, the great Dominico would command no one, today the pathetic excuse for a magician would bow to her whims.
The soft slippers she wore made no sound as she crossed the polished hardwood floor and yet the bed creaked and a shadowy outline rose to peer out into the blackness of the enormous room. “Who’s there?” The voice trembled. “Identify yourselves. If you…”
Light blazed at the end of the scepter, surprisingly soft as it filled the corner of the room. As she’d expected, Dominico cowered against the wall beside his bed, covers drawn up to his chin and clutched tightly in his chubby fists.
"Did you really think I was just going to leave?" Stupid man.
For a moment, her stomach churned at the thought of touching him. He was nothing more than a fat, filthy pretender, a disgusting monster that preyed on the weak and innocent. Disgust turned to anger. Yes, yes. She’d make him pay for what he’d done to others and when she was finished with him, she’d make sure he continued to pay.
“I came back for you,” she whispered, startled by the sound of her blended voice. It was her and yet… “No.” It came out as more of a sound, a protest, than an actual word.
“What do you want?” he demanded in a high-pitched shriek. “Help! Help! Someone, help…”
Strands of magic exploded from the head of the scepter, wrapped around his throat, choked off words and breath alike until the magician pitched forward on the bed, clutching at the glimmering chains that bound him. She took some satisfaction in his silence, though she coveted his whimpers, the shrieks of fear, the pleas for mercy she knew would spill from his mouth once she released him.
She took her time climbing onto the bed. It was lush, soft, conformed to her hands and knees as she crept across it. So long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lay in such an opulent bed with covers of crushed satin, mattresses and pillows filled with down.
With the scepter, she rolled him onto his back, watched him gag, marveled at the blue tint to his lips. It would serve him right to die. He deserved death, but he deserved more to live, to suffer like he’d made others suffer.
He smelled of herbs and incense, quite the opposite of what she’d expected from the pig. Lifting the bottom of his nightshirt with the butt end of the scepter, she studied his nakedness, determined what it had to offer. Her fingers closed around him, touching, squeezing, sizing him up as one would study an animal for sale.
“Quite nice, quite nice.” Another pleasant surprise.
He hardened in her hand, not as hard as a young stud, but stiff enough for her purposes.
“Sit up,” she commanded, tangling her fingers in the neck of his shirt. His eyes widened with fear as she pulled him into a sit. “If you call for help, I’ll gut you…” Her fingers slipped through the skin of his chest without raising blood. “Do you understand?”
His nod was cut short by a spasm as his heart stopped, pumped, shuddered. If she’d wanted, she could have squeezed and killed him, but the feel of his hot blood, the knowledge that she held his life in her hand, kindled the desire that burned in her groin.
“Good.” She released the magic as she released him.
He hit the bed with a thud that rocked it, squeaked the springs beneath. She didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to the door. His mouth opened, then shut as he looked up at her with something past fear mirrored on his face.
“What do you want?” The word emerged small and strained.
“You.” Fingers still smeared with his blood crept beneath his night shirt again. When he crept backward on the bed, she grabbed him and squeezed until tears rolled onto his cheeks and he begged for forgiveness.
“Please, please, gracious lady. I’ll do…” He swallowed hard; his eyes dropped. “Whatever you want.”
She couldn’t contain the evil laugh, or her delight at his discomfort. Releasing him, she freed one breast from the low-cut blouse that barely contained them and leaned forward, over him, cradling it in her hand. “Do you want this, Dominico? Do you find it pleasing?” Again, the laughter. “Or do you prefer the warmth of young boys in your bed?”
“I don’t…I’ve never…” His eyes settled on the more than ample breast. His erection stirred his night shirt and probed beneath her skirts. Trembling fingers stroked her, cold against the heat of her skin.
“Are you a man?” she demanded, pressing it into his hand. “Or a sniveling, cowardly dog? Suck it before I string you up by your sorry excuse for balls.”
She’d never seen a man his size move as fast as he did to get to his knees. Gathering the breast into his fat hands, he took as much as he could in his mouth. It amused her distantly that it was too large for his mouth and she wondered how easy it would be to smother the fool with it when she was done with him.
The pleasure of his mouth robbed her of conscious thought. His skilled tongue played over the nipple, his lips tweaked and teased until she threw her head back with a muffled growl.
“Undress me.” Her voice grew husky, desperate. “Hurry, you foolish man.”
One final drag on her breast and he abandoned it. His fingers fumbled over catches and laces until her clothes surrounded them on the bed and she knelt naked before him. Her fingers dropped between her legs. His erection stiffened when she worked them inside herself, plunging them in and out before removing them, wet and sticky.
He didn’t protest when she forced them into his mouth, sucked as any mindless male would. It wasn’t until she jerked them free and grabbed his erection that the fear returned to his eyes.
“So hard.” She shoved his night shirt aside again with the end of the scepter. “So delicate.” Her fingers tightened until he flinched, until her fingernails dug into the tender skin and drew blood.
“P…please…” he whimpered. “I…I’ll do whatever…”
Her hands slipped to his balls, squeezed until he screamed and the magic wrapped around his throat again, allowing only the hoarse ghost of a cry to escape, music to her ears. His agony fueled her growing desire, her extraordinary need.
Forcing him onto his back, she straddled him, claimed his cock, tightened around him. She rode him slowly, releasing the magic until she could follow the rhythm of his grunts and moans. There was something so less satisfying to pleasure, something less gratifying than the pain.
With an evil cackle, she thrust the end of the scepter up his ass, straining to push it as far as it would go. His cock loosed a load inside her even while his voice rose in a pain-filled scream. She thrust it hard, deeper, until, with a gurgling gasp, he fainted.
The tingling in her breasts, the stirring in her groin grew until she thought she’d tip over the edge of consciousness into pleasure. Sliding off the magician, she grabbed his limp cock, still damp and sticky with spilled seed.
The fingers wrapped around the scepter loosed and slid free. While her tongue lapped up what Dominico had spilled across the tip of his cock, her fingers moved in and out, circled her clit with burning moisture.
With a soft cry, she came, pleasure rolling over her in a tide of heat-filled shudders. When she relaxed beneath him on the bed, the bed conforming to her body, she felt a twinge of guilt, a sudden realization.
Before it grew into clarity, the presence in her mind sought the staff. Her fingers closed around it, drew it near. Ignoring the blood-tipped end, she settled onto her back and welcomed the staff inside her with gentle thrusts.
By the time she hit orgasm for the second time, she was so far inside Rhapthorne that she’d forgotten about Dominico, still unconscious on the bed beside her.
Come my pretty, the voice said. Leave him with his nightmares. Leave him to suffer. Let him wonder in the morning whether any of this really happened at all.
Author/Artist:
queenoftheskies Rating: R
Warnings: explicit non-con sex, torture
Word count: 1,626
Prompt: Dragon Quest VIII, Evil Jessica/Dominico: non-con - "Did you really think I was just going to leave?"
A/N: This prompt is for February 7. I apologize for its tardiness.
Energy glowed white in the darkness of the bedroom, rising from the pattern of runes etched in magic on the floor.
Stupid fool. She resisted the cackle that rose to her lips. Did he really think his feeble magic was enough to keep me out, to thwart my power, my desires?
It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness once the magic glow died. Strange how being tied to a mortal body dimmed the power, how it changed the magic flow, how it altered the otherwise immortal presence that inhabited her body.
Fingers clenched tightly around the scepter, she stepped from the magic circle, anger flushing her cheeks while desire stirred with a flutter in the pit of her stomach. He’d turned her friends into nothing more than common bodyguards, turned the true heir of the sages into a slave while he pretended their power was his. He deserved death, deserved worse than death…
This time, a laugh slipped free of her lips. She wouldn’t demand death from the poor fool today. Oh, no, she’d demand much more: strength and energy and enough pleasure to sate the body and make it easier to control.
Her free hand slid up over one breast and then the other, weighing, exploring, pausing to pinch the nipples and then pressing her legs together when the desire grew great. No, today, the great Dominico would command no one, today the pathetic excuse for a magician would bow to her whims.
The soft slippers she wore made no sound as she crossed the polished hardwood floor and yet the bed creaked and a shadowy outline rose to peer out into the blackness of the enormous room. “Who’s there?” The voice trembled. “Identify yourselves. If you…”
Light blazed at the end of the scepter, surprisingly soft as it filled the corner of the room. As she’d expected, Dominico cowered against the wall beside his bed, covers drawn up to his chin and clutched tightly in his chubby fists.
"Did you really think I was just going to leave?" Stupid man.
For a moment, her stomach churned at the thought of touching him. He was nothing more than a fat, filthy pretender, a disgusting monster that preyed on the weak and innocent. Disgust turned to anger. Yes, yes. She’d make him pay for what he’d done to others and when she was finished with him, she’d make sure he continued to pay.
“I came back for you,” she whispered, startled by the sound of her blended voice. It was her and yet… “No.” It came out as more of a sound, a protest, than an actual word.
“What do you want?” he demanded in a high-pitched shriek. “Help! Help! Someone, help…”
Strands of magic exploded from the head of the scepter, wrapped around his throat, choked off words and breath alike until the magician pitched forward on the bed, clutching at the glimmering chains that bound him. She took some satisfaction in his silence, though she coveted his whimpers, the shrieks of fear, the pleas for mercy she knew would spill from his mouth once she released him.
She took her time climbing onto the bed. It was lush, soft, conformed to her hands and knees as she crept across it. So long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lay in such an opulent bed with covers of crushed satin, mattresses and pillows filled with down.
With the scepter, she rolled him onto his back, watched him gag, marveled at the blue tint to his lips. It would serve him right to die. He deserved death, but he deserved more to live, to suffer like he’d made others suffer.
He smelled of herbs and incense, quite the opposite of what she’d expected from the pig. Lifting the bottom of his nightshirt with the butt end of the scepter, she studied his nakedness, determined what it had to offer. Her fingers closed around him, touching, squeezing, sizing him up as one would study an animal for sale.
“Quite nice, quite nice.” Another pleasant surprise.
He hardened in her hand, not as hard as a young stud, but stiff enough for her purposes.
“Sit up,” she commanded, tangling her fingers in the neck of his shirt. His eyes widened with fear as she pulled him into a sit. “If you call for help, I’ll gut you…” Her fingers slipped through the skin of his chest without raising blood. “Do you understand?”
His nod was cut short by a spasm as his heart stopped, pumped, shuddered. If she’d wanted, she could have squeezed and killed him, but the feel of his hot blood, the knowledge that she held his life in her hand, kindled the desire that burned in her groin.
“Good.” She released the magic as she released him.
He hit the bed with a thud that rocked it, squeaked the springs beneath. She didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to the door. His mouth opened, then shut as he looked up at her with something past fear mirrored on his face.
“What do you want?” The word emerged small and strained.
“You.” Fingers still smeared with his blood crept beneath his night shirt again. When he crept backward on the bed, she grabbed him and squeezed until tears rolled onto his cheeks and he begged for forgiveness.
“Please, please, gracious lady. I’ll do…” He swallowed hard; his eyes dropped. “Whatever you want.”
She couldn’t contain the evil laugh, or her delight at his discomfort. Releasing him, she freed one breast from the low-cut blouse that barely contained them and leaned forward, over him, cradling it in her hand. “Do you want this, Dominico? Do you find it pleasing?” Again, the laughter. “Or do you prefer the warmth of young boys in your bed?”
“I don’t…I’ve never…” His eyes settled on the more than ample breast. His erection stirred his night shirt and probed beneath her skirts. Trembling fingers stroked her, cold against the heat of her skin.
“Are you a man?” she demanded, pressing it into his hand. “Or a sniveling, cowardly dog? Suck it before I string you up by your sorry excuse for balls.”
She’d never seen a man his size move as fast as he did to get to his knees. Gathering the breast into his fat hands, he took as much as he could in his mouth. It amused her distantly that it was too large for his mouth and she wondered how easy it would be to smother the fool with it when she was done with him.
The pleasure of his mouth robbed her of conscious thought. His skilled tongue played over the nipple, his lips tweaked and teased until she threw her head back with a muffled growl.
“Undress me.” Her voice grew husky, desperate. “Hurry, you foolish man.”
One final drag on her breast and he abandoned it. His fingers fumbled over catches and laces until her clothes surrounded them on the bed and she knelt naked before him. Her fingers dropped between her legs. His erection stiffened when she worked them inside herself, plunging them in and out before removing them, wet and sticky.
He didn’t protest when she forced them into his mouth, sucked as any mindless male would. It wasn’t until she jerked them free and grabbed his erection that the fear returned to his eyes.
“So hard.” She shoved his night shirt aside again with the end of the scepter. “So delicate.” Her fingers tightened until he flinched, until her fingernails dug into the tender skin and drew blood.
“P…please…” he whimpered. “I…I’ll do whatever…”
Her hands slipped to his balls, squeezed until he screamed and the magic wrapped around his throat again, allowing only the hoarse ghost of a cry to escape, music to her ears. His agony fueled her growing desire, her extraordinary need.
Forcing him onto his back, she straddled him, claimed his cock, tightened around him. She rode him slowly, releasing the magic until she could follow the rhythm of his grunts and moans. There was something so less satisfying to pleasure, something less gratifying than the pain.
With an evil cackle, she thrust the end of the scepter up his ass, straining to push it as far as it would go. His cock loosed a load inside her even while his voice rose in a pain-filled scream. She thrust it hard, deeper, until, with a gurgling gasp, he fainted.
The tingling in her breasts, the stirring in her groin grew until she thought she’d tip over the edge of consciousness into pleasure. Sliding off the magician, she grabbed his limp cock, still damp and sticky with spilled seed.
The fingers wrapped around the scepter loosed and slid free. While her tongue lapped up what Dominico had spilled across the tip of his cock, her fingers moved in and out, circled her clit with burning moisture.
With a soft cry, she came, pleasure rolling over her in a tide of heat-filled shudders. When she relaxed beneath him on the bed, the bed conforming to her body, she felt a twinge of guilt, a sudden realization.
Before it grew into clarity, the presence in her mind sought the staff. Her fingers closed around it, drew it near. Ignoring the blood-tipped end, she settled onto her back and welcomed the staff inside her with gentle thrusts.
By the time she hit orgasm for the second time, she was so far inside Rhapthorne that she’d forgotten about Dominico, still unconscious on the bed beside her.
Come my pretty, the voice said. Leave him with his nightmares. Leave him to suffer. Let him wonder in the morning whether any of this really happened at all.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}