WintermuteX Stories

Monstrum: Camabahlam - Part 3

By WintermuteX

Contributions by Clark & Lily

Previous stories:
Monstrum: Bitch
Monstrum: Broodmother
Monstrum: Filly
Monstrum: Submission
Monstrum: Jacqueline
Monstrum: Pollination
Monstrum: Grub

Tags: Mg+, bd, best, magic, nc, oral, anal, ped, preg, rape, reluc, viol

Content: Rape, Monster Rape, Sexual Slavery, Young Girls, Magic/Fantasy, Violence, Death, Bondage, Pedophilia, Pregnancy

"You want to do WHAT?!"

Emily gawked at Fernanda across the low table. Fernanda returned her stare then reached for another cup of milk.

"It makes sense. King Tlaloc thinks we don't respect his ways. If I attend one of these ceremonies, he may change his mind.

"But...but..." Emily sputtered, searching for a reply while Fernanda gulped down her drink. The Yachitli tasted as delicious as ever. It tingled in her belly and brought with it a warm feeling of gentle relaxation. It never seemed to grow old. "You can't help them rape a bunch of girls!" Emily finally choked out.

"I won't be participating. Just observing. The Magisterium demands information. I will get it for them, and earn the King's favor at the same time. They perform this ceremony every full moon. We won't get another chance like this for a while."

Emily lapsed into sullen silence. The other mages were too busy eating and chattering loudly to pay attention. The food served up every night was a veritable feast, and all the girls were hungry from a day spent touring the city again.

"Think of it this way," said Fernanda. "The ceremony will be carried out whether I'm there or not. We need every advantage we can get. The King has turned us away every day. We need to convince him that we understand the Camabahlam."

"Oh we understand them, all right..." muttered Emily, her face darkening. "I'm going with you."

"No. You're staying here." Fernanda didn't want the younger girl exposed to the whole business, or any of the other mages for that matter.

Will you at least take Tatiana?"

"No. She sometimes seems just a little too...interested in the whole matter. I can take the notes myself."

Emily slapped her hand down and stood up abruptly.

"As you order, Archmage," she said with mock stiffness. Then she turned and stalked from the room. Fernanda sighed. Her friend was just worried. She had a protective streak. She'd come around eventually.

"What was that about?" asked Nina. The other mages had frozen mid-chew, looking at her.

Fernanda announced her plan. She got blank stares in return.

"It's our only chance to earn back the King's trust," she said.

The girls nodded reluctantly. "Are you sure it's safe?" asked Nina. "We don't really know what goes on at these ceremonies."

"I have the Tlaquani, and a guide will be with me. I'll be as safe as any of us can be in this city," she said. The girls shrugged in acceptance and resumed eating. Fernanda sliced a strip of meat off the pork haunch in front of her and spooned the spicy vegetable medley over it. The excellent food helped take her mind off what the rest of her evening was going to look like.

Eventually, with dinner done and the sun long fallen, their guide came to their dwelling. Fernanda was ready, bathed and primped with rosewater scent, dressed in her scanty mage uniform and holding her staff imperiously. She needed to look the part, to remind the Camabahlam who they were dealing with. The guide did not seem impressed.

Gentle moonlight had flooded the darkened city with silver lustre. The characteristic torches and lamps of the wide avenues remained unlit, leaving the city a chaos of haunting edifices and stark shadows. The air seemed cooler for once, crisp and clear, and the full moon itself hung high above in a cloudless sky, shining with eerie brightness. Her guide led her along the streets toward a beacon of distant drumbeats. As they drew closer, they began to pass gilded temples and holy places wrought with stone carvings before being confronted with wide stone steps that ran together in a V and joined at a perfect 45 degree angle to rise up into booming darkness.

Fernanda climbed, her skin crawling. It was the corner of some vast pyramid, its true extent hidden by the jungle and the dark shadows. She saw statues and carvings of all kinds, most of them wretched depictions of rape in all its glory. Beasts and monsters violently copulating with young girls - Fernanda shuddered as she passed them.

At last they crested the last step, arriving in a large open square atop the squat pyramid. Four smaller ziggurats edged the space, one on each side and rising to the heavens like celestial compass points, and distant stars hung in the wide canopy of the heavens, pinpoints of brilliance in an inky blackness with their grandeur nearly drowned out by the shimmering moon.

Fernanda looked around, trying to note every detail. Steep stone steps led from the open court up the sides of the ziggurats, and on top of each was a pair of altars, both their shapes seemingly composed of a trio of indistinct forms. Near the foot of each ziggurat's steps was another altar, and in the center of the space was a much larger version of a final altar in the same shape as all of the others.

Her guide led her forward. Drums pounded on all sides, a heady, howling rhythm taut with menace. Fernanda was close enough now to finally get a good look at the main altar, and she gasped in fright.

"Behold: the holy trinity of Xochiquetzal, She Who Rapes, Goddess of Defilement, the Holy Hermaphrodite Whose Lust Turns the Heavens," breathed her guide, clearly in awe. Fernanda tried not to retch. The altar was all one piece of carved stone - probably cut from a single boulder - and depicted a young girl, beautiful beyond belief, forced onto her hands and knees and being violated from front and behind by the two other forms. Behind her was the familiar serpentine form of Xochiquetzal, feathered wings outspread and hissing with its snake tongue as it thrust a massively engorged phallus into the girl's tiny cunt. Its scales glittered in the moonlight, and the vibrant detail on the feathers made the malevolent creature look almost alive.

Fernanda circled around. The front of the altar was no less revolting: a lithe young girl, nude and marvelously ravishing, was standing in front of her victim with an expression of malignant lust on her face. Her genitals were bare and massively engorged, and her clit had swollen to such an astonishing size that it was serving as a giant phallus that she was ramming into the helpless girl's mouth. Fernanda could see the bulge where the smooth clit-cock entered the girl's throat and the glittering flecks in the stone that shone with moonlight to denote the raped girl's tears. The carving was exquisite, the craft far beyond anything Fernanda had ever encountered. A shiver crept down her spine as she took in the entire abominable sight of the two forms of the Goddess viciously raping the third, the small girl they had spitroasted between them.

"It is beginning," hissed her guide, clapping a paw onto her shoulder. "Come."

The drums were increasing in tempo. Fernanda let herself be led to the side of the open space and knelt, keeping her staff close to her hands. A quick glance showed her that all 13 altars were the same; only the fine details of the girl being raped in the middle varied. Now she understood what the Cambahlam had told her, that the idols in the city were incomplete, mere effigies that fell short of her true form. The full splendor of Xochiquetzal's triune nature filled her with a terrible awe.

From the open doors of the ziggurats, priestesses began to emerge. Cambahlam had entered the square from all directions, staying respectfully clear of the center. Strong warriors with bulging muscles and headdresses of varying length, and many seemed erect in anticipation. But anticipation of what? Fernanda didn't actually know what was going to happen here.

The priestesses converged on the altar in the center - 13 of them. Fernanda had not seen any priestesses arrayed like this before. Human women, all of them, achingly beautiful and aged between 20 and 30. Each bore a trailing headdress composed of a rich tapestry of colored feathers. Their ample breasts were bare, their nipples adorned with piercings of glittering gemstones. Golden earrings dangled in a complicated weave from one ear, studded throughout with diamonds and rubies. The pattern almost reminded Fernanda of an arcane design. Golden belts studded with more gems supported short skirts of transparent silk divided in the front and back, showing off their genitals and assholes.

Forming a ring around the central altar, the priestesses began chanting. Fernanda struggled to see the objects they were holding until their chanting reached a crescendo and they held them up high in the moonlight: golden scepters carved and gilded to have snake-like skin at one end and shaped into massive golden cocks at the other, and more of those appaling scourges that brought pain and pleasure. Fernanda winced, thinking of the ritual they had spied on earlier. These tools appeared to be holy implements. The priestesses called in their harsh tongue for their goddess's blessings upon them, crying out feverishly.

"The are they selected?" asked Fernanda of her guide, curious in spite of herself.

"When an ichpoyectli has born 13 or more warriors in her womb, and garnered 13 feathers by her own honor alone, she may be considered worthy of serving the Goddess," said the Camabahlam, still staring at the ring of screaming women imploring and worshipping their heathen deity.

"Few are worthy of this honor, and even fewer may survive the trials. They must master the holy gifts. They are whipped ceaselessly for 10 days with the scourge, then they are pleasured with the Xohchuani for another 10, serving with all that they can offer. Then they are locked into the stocks in the temple and serve the warriors with their bodies, taking neither food nor drink aside from the seed entering their bellies. When the priestesses declare that they can feel the Goddess' fire in her body, she is released, and may begin to serve."

Fernanda didn't like the sound of any of that.

"We can arrange a viewing, if you wish. The priestesses-"

"No., thank you." Fernanda held up a hand and silently breathed a prayer of thanks that she had not brought Tatiana. The girl's appetite for such perverse details could not be satisfied. At that moment the priestesses screamed a final oath, took their places beside each altar, and the ceremony seemed to begin in earnest.

Young girls were led forward, of all ages from 16 right down to tiny toddlers, each of them nude and bewildered and some bound with tight cords around their wrists. Fernanda felt herself begin to sicken when she watched the priestesses inspect them like cattle.

"H-how many?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"300 virgins are raped here every full moon," said the Camabahlam proudly. "They are set aside by the King from among those captured, for the glory of the Goddess that she might shine her favor on our warriors."

This is what she would be sending Telerian girls to, she thought. The King seemed unwilling to budge on that point. It was just a question of how many. The temple seemed to be overflowing with pink flesh among the dark purple fur and black skin of the Camabahlam. Hundreds of young girls were pulled forward from the crowd, some weeping as they were dragged to the altars.

The familiar heat began to burn hotter inside her. Fernanda clamped it down, muting it, refusing to acknowledge it, but it grew anyway, like smoldering ashes sparking a fresh blaze. She watched with wide-open eyes as a young blonde girl was pulled to the central altar and propped up upon it. Camabahlam warriors stepped forth, and with a beckon from the priestess one took his place before her. His cock was already hard, a massive 3-foot rod of terrifying black fuckmeat that throbbed with his beastly pulse. The girl's eyes bulged as it touched her naked belly and she cried out when he planted the head at her tiny hairless gap. With a massive jolt of his hips, the Camabahlam thrust forward, ramming its cock deep inside the tiny wiggling girl and robbing her virginity with a stroke.

All around her was the same scene: girls yanked onto the altars, held down, and violated by Camabahlam cocks. Their cries were ignored. If they struggled, the priestess held her legs open forcibly for her rapist to enter her. The girls squealed as they felt their first defilement, girlish cries rising to the open sky, accompanied by savage grunts of bestial pleasure as the Camabahlam fucked each girl to a frenzy and spilled its amber seed inside her. It went on and on, an endless parade of girls raped before her eyes. The fat, spiny pricks pistoned into delicate pussies over and over, spreading them wide with their obscene girth, the bristling spines scraping and catching painfully on the quivering lips and walls. Fernanda swallowed, trying to deny the tingling fire she felt as she observed. Her cunt flushed with pleasure, her nipples hardened, and she barely managed to avoid slipping a finger down to rub herself as she watched the mass rape and violation of 300 little virgin human girls play out before her eyes.

Each rape finished with the girl spent, dripping gooey amber cum from her tiny cunt as she gasped from her first climax, and the Camabahlam warrior presented with a blue feather by the priestess.

"What are the feathers for?" asked Fernanda of her guide. They had never given her a straight answer before, but now he seemed willing to tell her.

"A warrior's headdress is the symbol of his honor: how many rapes he has performed in the name of the Goddess. Red is for the rape of a woman past the age of childbearing. This has the least honor. An orange feather is for a woman still able to bear children. A yellow feather is for a teenage girl. A green feather is for a girl younger still. Blue feathers, such as are given here, are for the rape of a virgin."

"And the violet?" asked Fernanda, noticing that he had left it out.

"It is for the capture of a mage," said the Camabahlam, looking at her pointedly. Fernanda gulped. Now she saw the headdress of the King - so rich in violet feathers - in a new light.

Even raping girls thirteen at a time, the ceremony continued deep into the night - an endless procession of young, innocent girls, howling as a fat black monster cock entered them for the first time, screeching as the spiny protrusions scratched their sensitive pussies. The Camabahlam thrust without mercy, savoring each violation fresh, fucking each poor little cunt to a screaming fervor before blasting deep inside them with a torrent of amber semen. The priestesses howled praise to their Goddess as each hymen was broken, each innocence ripped away. They contributed lustily, whipping the difficult larger girls into submission, thrusting their golden cock-scepters into their throats when they screeched too loudly. Fernanda forced herself to watch, caught in the nightmare, horny heat blossoming in her crotch. She clenched her fists around her staff until her knuckles turned as white as the moonlight, desperate to keep her hands still. If she left them idle even a moment, she wouldn't be able to resist reaching under her own skirt. She was panting, heaving, sweating even with the night chill. The throbbing ache had intensified more than she could bear. What was wrong with her? She had studied and trained all her life to prevent things like this, and now she was more turned on than she had ever been. Rape after rape taking place before her. Struggling girls held down, tiny nude bodies pistoned violently against the merciless stone altars. Gooey traces of bodily fluids oozed down the stone figures of the altars, congealing into slick puddles beneath. Sweat and saliva. Cum and blood. The priestesses bent to lick it up. Sacred juices. More struggling bodies pulled forth, hoisted up, legs spread and tiny cunts plowed wide open. The drums pounded in time with her rapid pulse, a throbbing underscore to the melody of little girls howling as they were raped on the altars.

Her guide was looking away. Fernanda broke, letting one hand snake down between her legs. Just a little scratch, trying to douse that irresistible itch, but the moment she touched herself she began to shake. Tremors of pleasure raced from her scalp to her toes. The fire exploded and she clapped her other hand over her mouth to hold in the shuddering moan. Her fingers slithered over her wet lips, barely able to touch her sensitive clit, flicking and rubbing and finally giving in and diving into her sopping pussy. It trembled at the intrusion, then clamped sucking around her own fingers. Fernanda bit her tongue to hold back the squeal. She shoved more fingers in, thumbing her clit, surrendering to the ecstasy flowing through her. Her vision swam. The delicious, erotic sounds of continuous rape melted into a din around her. Grunting. Wailing. Panting and gasping and finally the inevitable outcry as the raped girl's first orgasm rose up to overwhelm her. Fernanda gave in to it. She embraced it. She imagined herself on that altar, her legs spread open, the monster ignoring her blubbering as it positioned his massive cock at her opening and rammed the spiny flesh deep inside...

The itching heat in her crotch erupted in a surge of rushing energy that crackled with lightning pleasure. Fernanda was lost in the tempest, her fingers shoved deep inside her, flicking her clit with abandon. She was awash in the vile pleasure of it all, exulting in the profane worship, embracing the savage stormfront of euphoria that launched her into the stratosphere of the most powerful and violent climax she had ever experienced. It went on seemingly without end, battering her senses, a hurricane of static that obliterated her thoughts and left only pure thundering bliss in its wake that eventually receded to a rumbling echo in her quaking muscles.

Was it finally over? They seemed to be pulling the last of the girls onto the altars, though they were raped with no less zeal than the first by the waiting Camabahlam. Fernanda was panting, spent, the fire quenched. Somehow it seemed better every time she surrendered to that heat, that each mind-shattering orgasm managed to push her to new heights that she had never imagined. She was exhausted. She was elated. The gooey leavings of her own juices dripped from her fingers. It was only once the ceremony was truly over and her guide was leading her back through the darkened streets that she began to feel the first pangs of shame.

She tried not to think about what she had just masturbated to. She tried to stomp out the shame and put it from her mind, telling herself that her mission was too important to waste on worrying about such things. If they could negotiate peace here, countless lives could be saved. Nothing else mattered beside that. Not Anabella. Not Shayla. Acceptable sacrifices. She saw that now.

And if tonight's ceremony earned her an audience with the king, it would all be worth it, she thought as she returned to her quarters and tumbled into her bed. She planned to win him over by the solstice. Flattery, and greater concessions. It would work. It all seemed like it would be so easy now. She had just watched a thousannd virgins raped on fiendish altars to a blashphemous god, but it was still preferable to war.

Fernanda comforted herself with that thought as she let her mind wander. Sleep began to overtake her, bringing with it fresh dreams. Young girls with their clothing ripped off, revealing their succulent bodies. Pushed down, bent over, their tight little pussies and mouth plugged by fat cocks, put to use for the pleasure they were made for. A fire sated for now, but that would soon burn hungry for the next rape, the next defilement, the next mass plundering of little girl pussy.

In her sleep, Fernanda smiled.

Fernanda tried to contain her elation as she led her mages and their remaining soldiers toward the King's palace. It had worked! The King had agreed to see them and begin negotiations again. As they mounted the long flight of steps to the great doors, Fernanda craned her neck to look up at the stone balconies and terraces of the palace that rose high overhead. It was an astonishing sight. Jungle foliage coated the high ridge behind the palace in a labyrinth of green fronds and vines, speckled throughout with flowering blooms of scarlets and yellows and purples. Small artificial waterfalls fed by aqueducts flowed down gilded stone channels into placid pools. The Camabahlam - or their slaves at least - kept the city immaculate. They had dire laws against littering or vandalism, and Fernanda couldn't help but contrast the beautiful sights against the squalor of some human cities she had visited. Xochtecquinicha was quite a sight - provided one didn't also mind the sight of little girls fornicating on every street corner. It was strange: it didn't seem to bother her as much anymore. Maybe it was the display at the temple that had desensitized her, or just the weeks they had spent here, but somehow the splendor of the city didn't grate on her nerves quite so hard anymore. She had come to appreciate it to a certain degree.

"...and I'm telling you, this goddess of theirs must be the reason they were able to overthrow the Toltec so rapidly," said Nina behind her. The conversation had been going on for a while as they walked. The mages couldn't come to an agreement about who or what Xochiquetzal actually was, or if she actually existed at all.

"That's crazy!" said Emily, swinging her staff in animated fashion as she talked. "We haven't seen the slightest thing that we could attribute to the influence of any goddess here. No magic. No miracles. Just lots of mumbo-jumbo."

"She's right," murmured Isabella, keeping her sarcasm in check for once. "This ridiculous goddess of theirs is just a myth. A fabricated deity. Heathen cultures are full of them. They just use her to justify what they want to do anyway."

"There have been some cases where a germ of truth was discovered behind native legends," said Tatiana in her lecturing tone. "When Graeth, the Father of the Hearth, came to the world as a human, he travelled to every land and preached to every culture. Even the isolated tribes of deserts or remote islands usually have some legend that can be traced back to him. Actually it's not uncommon for different cultures to come to a point where they refer to the same deity by different names.

"But that can't be the case here," interjected Fernanda, looking back over her shoulder. "There is no deity like this Xochiquetzal. There is no God or Goddess of Rape. The very idea is ridiculous. It's more likely to be a superstition grown out of some cult worship of a Djinni from Ænor or an Archdemon from the Abyss or something along those lines."

Tatiana put her finger to her lips, thinking, then nodded. "It's possible," she admitted. "We don't have enough information to say either way."

"We will, before we're done," said Fernanda with a determined grimace. "One way or another."

They crested the long flight of steps and came to the causeway crossing over the wide pool in front of the palace doors. Camabahlam warriors were arrayed on either side in two parallel lines, facing each other with stern discipline, just as they always were. The guide led them forward through the open doors flanked by golden idols of the Goddess's serpent form on both sides. Fernanda gave a slight wince when she passed them. Even though she didn't believe Xochiquetzal was a real deity, she couldn't shake the odd feeling that they were watching her, tracking her with those sightless slits of topaz that glittered as if with burning desire. The feeling passed over her in a tight shudder and was gone.

King Tlaloc wasn't sprawled on his throne like a cat on a sunny day, and he wasn't screwing any of his young wives in front of them today, thankfully. Instead, Fernanda and the other mages heard and saw the clashing sounds of combat as they entered the throne room. The King and another Cambahlam were circling each other warily, swords out and tails twitching alertly, naked but for the trailing headdresses of colorful feathers. As Fernanda watched, the challenger roared and charged forward, swinging with aggressive strikes. The King parried and the ring of steel thundered in the air, then he waited for his opponent to overextend and countered with a riposte that nearly tore the wide-bladed sword from his opponent's paws.

The combatants parted, muscular chests heaving, violet fur bristling as they stalked in a slow circle. Fernanda wondered how long they had been going at it. The challenger looked nearly as tall and strong as the King himself, and they seemed to be evenly matched. Their ears were lying flat and their muzzles were drawn back in low snarls like two panthers vying for territory.

Suddenly, the King gave a mighty roar and charged. Screaming with fury, he slashed again and again with his sword, steel ringing against steel, battering his opponent's grip further and further to the side. It seemed to be working. The other Camabahlam's balance began to falter. He wasn't quite fast enough to meet each parry and began to fall behind. Panic edged his features. Finally, screaming with fury, the King gave a last savage swing and the blade flew from his opponent's paws and landed on the floor with a clatter. He whirled around and brought his blade straight for the terrified Camabahlam's throat.

"Muahtli!" called a Camabahlam to the side, who seemed to be calmly refereeing the fight. The King's sword stopped a hairsbreadth from the smaller Camabahlam's fur. The pair stared at each other for a moment, gasping, eyes glittering before stepping apart and bowing to each other.

"Tu Huanxi, my King," said the smaller respectfully.

"You are better every day, Xihuitl," said the King. "Someday there will be a moon when my fur is old and grey, and you will overcome me at last."

"Not for many years, as Xochiquetzal wills it, my father," said Xihuitl. His tone was deferential, but something about his posture made Fernanda doubt the sincerity of his statement. The King laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder, then finally spied the arriving delegation and turned to greet them.

"Fernanda Oaxaca of the magical little girl tribe," said Tlaloc mockingly. "Meet my firstborn, the champion of Xochiquetzal, Moon Prince of Xochtecquinicha, Xihuitl."

"It's uh...nice to meet you," said Fernanda, her words failing. Both father and son were naked, their monstrous bodies heaving under sweaty fur. Xihuitl appeared in every way a slightly smaller version of his father, not quite as tall, with a headdress just a few feathers short and a member a few inches shy of his sire. She tried to suppress her shudder as both Cambahlam leered at her, eyes travelling up and down from her thighs to her shoulders. She felt the revealing embarrassment of her uniform keenly, and wished desperately for a cloak to hide herself from those ravenous stares. They made her skin crawl. A thick cloak, maybe two.

Xihuitl approached her until he was nearly touching, towering over her like a mountain. Fernanda realized she was cringing and forced herself to stand up straight. He was eyeing her flat breasts and belly, licking his muzzle approvingly. He began a slow circle at an uncomfortable arm's length, inspecting her hair, sniffing her scent, taking a long look at her slender back and her right buttcheek which the off-center skirt left mostly exposed. Fernanda stared straight ahead, pretending it didn't bother her.

Finally Xihuitl stopped his pacing, his tails flicking approvingly, and nodded at his father. Fernanda tried to ignore the gesture, tried to ignore how the Camabahlam prince was slowly growing erect as he eyefucked her. The long rod of black flesh was slowly rising, throbbing visibly from his pulse in the fat midsection. Fernanda swallowed, then breathed a sigh of relief when he went to stand next to his father.

"So!" barked Tlaloc, as soon as Fernanda opened her mouth. "You have attended our ceremony and thereby given glory to the Goddess. Tell me, little girl: what did you think? Did it make your cunt swell with pleasure?"

Fernanda's prepared greeting of diplomatic fluff died in her throat, leaving her standing there gaping like a fool. She closed her mouth and tried to compose an answer.

King Tlaloc waved his hand dismissively. "Of course it did. Our priestesses, they begin as girls on the altar as well. Virgins, struggling, who have to have their legs held open for their first rape. Their screams pleased the Goddess. Now they embrace Xochiquetzal, now they rejoice when they hold the legs of girls who were like them, who are like you. They shout her praises when they see our warrior's cocks slide into smooth little cunts like yours."

"Truly your uh...rites are borne of," stuttered Fernanda, then she winced at her own words. The sight of both the King and the Prince naked and growing erect as they looked at her had unnerved her. She eyed the two tremendous black cocks pointing in her direction like bristling spears, feeling like a fool. Xihuitl was pretending to be attentive but his hungry gaze kept lingering on Emily. The girl didn't seem to notice, nervously fingering her two silvery necklaces as she stared at the Camabahlam guards all around them.

"We were discussing matters and I came to a decision last night," announced the King. "We are prepared to agree to your terms under two conditions. We will abandon the Meridia isles. We will release the Telerian men that work in our slave camps. We will sign a peace accord with the blood oath of Xochiquetzal. We will return the magical trinkets that we stole from the Toltec to you. We will allow your ships to dock and trade under a flag of safety. We will cease our raids into all vassal-states of Teleria and surrender the territory we have taken from them."

Fernanda's jaw dropped in shock. It was everything they could have ever wanted. She struggled to form a reply.

"This-this is most generous, great King Tlaloc. We are indebted-"

"BUT!" interrupted the King, holding up a furry finger. "We want 2000 girls every full moon. Virgins, every one under 16 human years of age."

She wanted to scream. She almost did. Her fingers tightened on her staff, ready to summon her magic, to incinerate the smirking king and his vile prince and all their attendants and soldiers and every disgusting male monster in this entire city.

Instead she grabbed ahold of herself. The King was sneering at her as if he had already won, as if his victory over such a weak, pathetic little human girl was inevitable. She took a deep breath and replaced her fury with an icy calm, and began to calculate.

Maybe...just maybe. The war had left so many families impoverished. The prisons were packed with beggars and thieves and whores, including little girls as desperate as anyone to steal or sell themselves for a meal. They could send the waifs here. Tap the orphanages. There were lots of little unwanted girls that could be sent here, she thought. They could make up the difference by taking girls from the outlying farms. Call it a conscription, or something. Round them up, put them on a boat. For a moment she saw it, and felt a pang of deep hunger: thousands of girls, bound with ropes, naked, weeping, dragged into the city and hauled up the stairs to those vile ceremonies, tiny bodies struggling as they were held down and their bald little pussies were spread wide by fat Camabahlam cocks thrusting inside. wouldn't be so bad. There would be peace. The girls here didn't seem too unhappy, after a while anyway. They would adjust. And Teleria could catch its breath and turn its attention back to the other Monstrum hordes encroaching on human civilization. Two thousand girls raped every full moon. Fernanda could feel it like she was almost there. Her cunt began to grow hot with that familiar burning itch, swelling and sweating its slick arousal. The tiny bead of her clit throbbed, aching with passion. Just two thousand girls...hardly anything really. A faint pulse of hunger deep inside made her almost eager for it. She might even visit, watch the ceremonies...

"Fernanda..." whispered Emily, with a warning hand on her shoulder.

"Archmage," whispered Nina from the other side. "You can't seriously be considering this. Sending our own to these...these creatures? With their disgusting heathen religion and-"

Fernanda held up her hand to stop them. She had made up her mind.

"We are concede this tribute." Fernanda ignored the gasps from her own party. She knew the King would just throw her out again if she tried to negotiate.

"You said you had two terms, mighty King Tlaloc," said Fernanda, her voice ringing loudly in the chamber.

"Yes." The King's smirk grew even more nasty, more lurid. More personal.

"What do you require?"

The King walked closer until he was almost touching her. "You," he said.

Her growing excitement that this horrific saga might draw to a close shattered like glass.

"M-me?" she asked, suddenly trembling. She felt very small indeed, as Tlaloc stared down at her with an evil grin on his muzzle.

"You will submit to be Iihpuyhuani for me and my firstborn. You have no word. It is...shared slave/wife."

Fernanda stared, mouth open, eyes bulging until it felt like they would fall out of her head.

"Each night, you will satisfy us," said the King slowly, words dripping with cruel promise. "You will take my son in his mouth and give him pleasure, until he empties himself in your belly. You will take me in your cunt and squeeze me until my seed fills your womb. Then, we will switch."

Fernanda was shrinking back, horrified. The King took a step forward to match her, his posture menacing, powerful muscles rippling as he reached down to cup her cheek.

"We will forgo our other wives to rape you night and day. You will become our cum slut, the Whore of Xochtecquinicha." The claws of his paw left tiny red marks as they trailed down from her bare shoulder to the frail dreamcloth that scarcely covered her breasts, ending at her belly. "You will be the garden in which we spray our seed. Your belly will overflow with semen until you vomit. Your cunt will ooze like a river. Your naked body will be known by every Camabahlam in the city, for we will rape you in the palace, in the temples, in the streets."

He was looming over her like an avalanche ready to crush her. Cold terror froze Fernanda's heart like a vise. She couldn't stop his words, couldn't stop imagining the vile things he would do to her, couldn't stop the rising heat in her belly and its impossible yearning for the degradation he was describing.

"Your body will burn and you will scream from the pleasure of our cocks every hour of every day. Monstrum will come from distant lands to see the Archmage of Teleria, now the gutter-whore of the Camabahlam, covered with semen, mouth open and gobbling sperm, holding your cunt wide and begging, demanding our pleasure. "

He was gripping her hip on the side where it was bare, reaching around to squeeze her ass with his other hand. Fernanda screamed inside. Why wasn't anyone helping her? She couldn't look anywhere else, couldn't rip her eyes away from the burning gaze that impaled her in place. His paws roamed her body, squeezing her chest, trailing along her privates. The shudder that raced through her body wracked her to the core.

"Your mouth and your cunt and your womb will belong to us and to the Goddess, forever." He ducked down until his eyes and his catlike muzzle were inches from hers. "You will wiggle and shriek like a grunting pig, stuck on both ends by our cocks thrusting inside you. You will have pleasure like you've never known. That is our condition."

Time stretched out like agony. Fernanda felt crushed in his grip, utterly overwhelmed by his raw strength and menacing power. His paws could rip her apart. His hard cock was touching her breasts, the black animal glans almost in her mouth. Her tongue tingled to taste it, to embrace all the vile organ had to offer, to surrender to the wretched fate he described. She hovered on the razor edge, nearly delirious.

"No," she finally squeaked, like the peep of a mouse in a cat's claws. She managed to straighten up in his grip.

"No," she said louder. "Never."

He released her, still grinning, and took a step back.

"Then there is no peace, no deal between our peoples, no trade, no quarter. We will build a fleet and conquer your shores and drag every weeping, snivelling girl here in chains to be raped for the glory of Xochiquetzal."

He waved a hand, and Fernanda suddenly felt the Camabahlam guards seize her by both shoulders and haul her away. They were dragging her out like a sack of turnips.

"Take care, little magical girl!" snarled the King, watching disdainfully as his guards manhandled them back through the wide door to the throneroom. "Today you had a choice! Tomorrow, that choice may be taken from you!"

Fernanda shrieked with frustration and rage as they were dragged beyond the threshold and the wide doors closed behind them. The other mages and soldiers were being manhandled along like she was, the Camabahlam holding swords tightly to their throats. No wonder her friends hadn't intervened. The entire struggling party was jerked along all the way down the corridor until they reached the gates, where the men were shoved summarily forward and the mages were picked up by the Cambahlam and bodily thrown from the palace.

"Ooof!" gasped Fernanda as she hit the stone, the wind knocked out of her. She rolled over and found her staff, groaning, scarcely able to believe what had happened. For a moment it had all been in her grasp. A peace deal. The whole reason they had come. Security for her entire nation, save the poor girls sent in tribute. She had been so close. If she could have drawn breath she would have screamed.

"Fernanda..." Emily was groaning next to her. Blood seeped from a cut on her forehead, but she seemed ok. Fernanda managed to get to a knee and offer a hand to her friend. The girls leaned on each other as they stood up.

"What...what the fuck...was that," coughed Isabella, leaning on her staff for balance.

"He never intended to bargain fairly," murmured Nina. She was examining the scrapes on her hands from where she had slid on the stone. They looked like they hurt.

"Fairly?! That was everything we fucking wanted!" shrieked Isabella. "Every single thing we had discussed! And all he wanted was a little bit of pussy in return! And our fucking ARCHMAGE had to go and FUCK IT UP!"

"Knock it off!" yelled Emily. "It's not Fernanda's fault!"

"Oh isn't it? ISN'T it?" Isabella turned on her, snarling and pointing her staff accusingly.

"Two thousand little girls every single moon! Every one of them to be raped by these fucking monsters! And you agreed! What's the matter Fernanda? You can sacrifice the cunts of two thousand other girls, but not yourself? You're too high and mighty for that?"

Isabella's face was purple with rage. She stalked closer, screaming in Fernanda's face. "You keep talking about the need for sacrifices! Shayla's being raped night and day, and my fucking SISTER is a little cum dumpster for those fucking feathered creatures! The rest of us could have gone home! All you had to do was say yes!"

She shoved Fernanda, who almost lost her balance. Everything was woozy. She had hit her head. She tried to mumble something, anything in her defense, but it all seemed to run together. Isabella was right: they had failed utterly, and it was all her fault.

"Maybe you fucking DESERVE it at this point!" Isabella shrieked. "Maybe we should have one of the Cambahlam stick its pointy little prick right up your ass and give it a good pounding! We could have Tatiana take notes!"

She moved to shove Fernanda again, but a shield of air suddenly sprang into being, knocking Isabella back. The shield shimmered in the air, then morphed like a sheet of lightning, growing and molding itself around Isabella faster than the eye could follow and drawing tight until the girl was immobilized like a statue.

"Stop it!" yelled Emily, holding her staff steady and keeping Isabella frozen. She was crying, tears running down her face. "Stop it Isabella! We're all in this together! We can't turn on each other!"

"Calm down! Drop your spell!" hissed Nina, looking around. The palace guards had drawn their weapons and were watching them with alarmed looks. "We can't use magic out here where everyone can see us!"

Emily slumped and released her spell, and the gleaming air that had wrapped itself around Isabella like a mummy blinked out. She groaned and leaned on her staff again, rubbing her forehead.

"Come on, Archmage. We need to get the hell out of here," said Nina. The girl offered Fernanda an arm, and she took it gratefully. They began to walk, slowly, Fernanda and Emily and Nina in front with Tatiana behind them, thinking silently as she always did. Isabella trailed in the rear with a sour look on her face.

They began to trudge back to their quarters along the streets. Their guide was nowhere to be seen. Maybe they didn't get one anymore. All around them was the bustle of the city, Camabahlam going about their business, some with faint leers and licked muzzles for the troupe of half-naked girls in their midst. The feathered crowns on their heads seemed scant protection now from the menace of the city. The cries of hawkers sounded like dire threats, and the Ziggurats felt like looming pillars ready to fall and crush them.

Silent and miserable, they soldiered on. They were still on the main road and had nearly reached their lodgings again when Captain Stendar suddenly strode toward them.

"Archmage!" he called, weaving his way among the much larger monsters. "I was coming to get you. One of my men just informed me: two more of my privates have gone missing. When lieutenant Milais went to relieve them, he spotted them from afar talking to a Camabahlam soldier. The soldier had two young girls with him, both of them with ropes tied around their necks and wrists. He came and got me immediately, but by the time they returned, the men were gone without a trace.

Fernanda stopped dead, staring ahead blankly. She had heard the Captain, but somehow his words didn't compute. Two more men, on top of everything else. On top of her failure. Just when it seemed things couldn't get any worse, the sky suddenly opened up in a sudden violent shower.

"Agh!" grunted the Captain, holding his hands over his head. Water poured down like a river had upended itself. He moved closer to Nina as if to shield her from the rain. These surprise storms were always violent and always spent themselves quickly, but Fernanda looked up at the clouds defiantly, accepting the drops pelting her eyes. Thunder boomed from the grey sky. They were soaked already. Her mage uniform was slick and sticking to her body everywhere, showing her breasts, her hips, her butt. Even the stupid skirt was stuck slick to one of her thighs, unable to dangle and conceal her cunt. She was completely exposed, and so were all the other mages. Monsters stopped and stared with hungry glares.

Something inside Fernanda snapped. She screamed suddenly, fury filling her like fire. The droplets slamming her skin felt like tiny razors. She felt eyes on her back, and turned. An idol, the feathered serpent form of Xochiquetzal. Water was collecting in the splashing golden pan in front of it, drowning the offerings. Its outstretched wings seemed to mock her. The awful cock at the beast's loins seemed to point threateningly at her, andt he vertical yellow slits of the eyes followed her hauntingly, leering hungrily at her nakedness.

"Is this what you wanted?!" she screamed, stalking over to the golden effigy. It was larger than her, with smooth scales and a hissing tongue and a wingspan like a huge eagle.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED?!" she screamed again. Fury raged in an inferno inside of her and the raindrops seemed to sizzle on her skin. Screaming incoherently, Fernanda reared back and swung her staff, smashing the beast's giant cock with the crystal head of the staff. It shattered. Yells and shouts began to come from the crowd. The thing was still looking at her, laughing at her, whispering in her head all the profane ways it would violate her body. The outswept wings seemed ready to coil around her, to hold her tiny body in place, laughing as she struggled.

Fernanda shrieked again just as lightning cracked in the sky overhead. Magic rushed into her in a torrent, and she shaped it in the space of a thought. A powerful blast cracked the air like a whip, making her ears ring as the wave of force swept forth and smashed into the golden idol. It shattered, crumbling at the edges while the main bulk fell over backwards and crumpled to the stone. Fernanda screamed in victory, her hair plastered to her face.

"GODS DAMN YOU!" Her screams raged like the storm against the gathering crowd. "DAMN YOUR CITY! DAMN YOUR FILTHY GODDESS BACK TO THE HELL THAT SPAWNED HER!" She stomped forward, and the crowd drew back in fright, many Camabahlam breaking to run.

"GODS DAMN YOU ALL TO THE ABYSS!" she howled after them. She felt a hand on her shoulder and shook it away. Nothing would stop her. Someone was shouting but she ignored them. She had spotted another idol. She stalked up to it, fury seething in every soaked pore of her body. A golden girl, supple and beautiful, with a flat chest and a plump bottom and a hairless, innocent slit that looked normal except for the blasphemous clit jutting out like a massive, engorged cock. The Goddess's other form. Fernanda raised her staff to the sky, feeling the energy gather in the vast expanse, then slashed downward in a violent stroke. Lightning blinded them all and a thunderclap deafened Fernanda as she was thrown back. When she shook her head and could see again, nothing was left of the idol but a smoking ruin.

"YOU WON'T BEAT ME!" Her defiant scream was almost lost in the storm. "YOU'LL NEVER RAPE ME!" She whirled around, and saw the other mages backing away in fright from her crazed eyes. She ignored them. The fury inside her matched the storm, a howling, enraged tempest that demanded satisfaction. She looked around for another idol, but didn't see one. Instead, she swept her staff and played her magic into a gigantic blaze toward the stalls of several vendors, turning them into an inferno.

It wasn't enough. It was never enough. The Ziggurat to the side of the road towered above her like a threat. She pulled in her magic, drawing it, condensing it from the racing currents of power that soared unseen behind the strands of reality. It felt every bit as angry as she was. The powerful blast thrummed in the air, latent energy building to a detonation point. She focused it on the building, letting the whirlpool of power grow. She would burn it. She'd topple the whole city. Every building, every brick, every temple, every altar. Burn it all. The spell raced to a climax and Fernanda prepared to unleash it.

Something heavy slammed into her throat, and Fernanda gagged and stumbled. It was crushing her windpipe. Her fingers came up instinctively and felt a sturdy cord, held taut. She couldn't breath. She blinked and rainwater swam over her vision. She felt herself slip and fall over backwards, choking in agony. A bola. Something swooshed and darkened her vision, separating the world into tiny segments. Blackness was creeping in. The thing tightened around her - a net - and she felt herself hoisted up by something strong and unseen.

She managed to get one finger under the cord. Just one. A precious trickle of air worked its way into her burning lungs. Gasping. Dizzy. She was upside down. A retch worked its way up her throat and her whole body spasmed. Darkness streaked back into her vision from the periphery until everything went black.

Drums pounded in her head in an aching beat, painful pulses as her consciousness slowly returned. She managed to open her eyes, and saw herself in an open plaza with crowds of Cambahlam and the occasional foreign Monstrum gathered around her.

The drums slowly diverged from the throbbing headache. Fernanda tried to cup her head, but found that her wrists were tightly bound above her. Her ankles were bound too. She couldn't move. As her awareness began to return she realized she was lashed front-first to a wooden X. The wood scratched her skin painfully and she looked down to realize she was naked.

"Nooo!" she shrieked. Where was her staff?! Gods in heaven! What had she done? Fernanda began to struggle, tearing at her bonds hysterically, until a familiar voice finally broke through.

"Fernanda! Fernanda! Stop! It's ok! Just calm down!"

Fernanda slumped, gasping. It was all over. They were going to rape her and everyone else. If they were lucky. Maybe she'd just be consigned to being the King's little fucktoy for the rest of her life, but maybe they'd make her one of those toilet-slaves, or the ones that serviced the beasts in the stables. Sobs escaped her throat as tears began to leak from her eyes.

"Fernanda! Look at me!" Emily. It was Emi. Her dear friend. Fernanda felt a brief flash of hope as she craned her neck and saw the 9-year-old standing at her side. At least Emily wasn't naked too. She was still in her uniform and holding her own staff.

"They're going to punish you. The rest of us are fine - they let us off the hook because we didn't have anything to do with it. But uh...

Emily looked back and Fernanda heard someone speaking to her. Things were still a bit hazy. Emily looked back at her.

"You were unconscious for a while. The King came and everything. They read a long list of crimes and it seems like they've already decided how to punish you. They're going to...flog you, with those whip-things we've seen them use."

Emily suddenly burst into tears. "Hang in there Fernanda! If you can just hang in there we'll be fine!" A Cambahlam paw grabbed her shoulder and began to pull her away. "We're right here waiting for you! Remember that! Remember what we're fighting for!"

Emily's voice was growing more distant as they hustled her away. Fernanda realized the crowd's anxiety was growing, the low murmur starting to swell with anticipation. Her view was blocked suddenly by a naked woman - a priestess, with a belt and dangling beads over her ample breasts. Fernanda couldn't raise her head very well to see her face, but she watched as the woman took a small purple flower from a pouch and carefully plucked the outer petals, then crushed the remaining plant in her fist.

"Agh!" Fernanda shook her head and spat when the priestess tried to shove the thing into her mouth. A sudden backhand smacked Fernanda violently, and while she was stunned the woman shoved the mulch into her mouth again and then forced her jaw closed, massaging her throat until Fernanda gave up and swallowed the wretched thing.

It had a strange, tingling aftertaste, but the flower wasn't bad. It was what it implied that horrified Fernanda. They had given it to the other girl in the ritual before whipping her through orgasm after orgasm for hours. Was the same about to happen to her?

The priestess took the little scourge from its coil at her belt and let it dangle in front of Fernanda's eyes. The little beads seemed soft enough, but those tiny discs with their sharp edges - those terrified her. She began to struggle, working her hands up and down, jerking her wrists and ankles. She cried out. The priestess walked to the side, disappearing from her vision. The crowd's murmur swelled to a climax, Camabahlam watching with eager, hungry expressions on their panther faces, come to see the little girl get whipped for the glory of their disgusting deity. Fernanda wanted to spit in their eyes, but she tried to stay calm, to push down the anger that had seemed to become her frequent companion as of late. She could get through this. The girl had, hadn't she? Maybe there was still hope. Maybe if they were satisfied with this, they could put the whole messy business behind them.

She shrieked when the first hit slapped across her bare bottom. It wasn't too bad - the leather was soft and the beads flat. Tiny razor slashes of pain were left in the scourges's wake, like papercuts. Fernanda shrieked again when her other buttocks took a hit. The priestess had begun in earnest, whacking her bottom and thighs, slashing the scourge again and again across Fernanda's bare skin as Fernanda yelped and jerked and cried out. The little cuts felt like stinging insect bites, but as slash after slash whacked her bare skin, working up her back, Fernanda felt a rising haze in her senses. The pain was there, slight as it was, but it was bringing with it a feverish rush, a warm heat that coated her senses with a heady buzz. With each slash, as the pain increased, so did the feeling of pleasure and arousal. Fernanda felt her pussy begin to swell up and sweat, a hungry burning pressure growing in her loins.

Slash. A hit across her middle back. Fernanda jerked. Slash. Tiny, stinging slivers, like euphoria was bleeding into her skin. Slash. Down the spine. Fernanda's back arched as she shrieked. The cords around her wrists and ankles dug into her skin. The hungry passion began to swell like an ocean tide, rising up inside her, driving her into an animal panting. Slash. Her shoulderblades. A rising fever. A growing heat. A throbbing bonfire crackling with every fresh stripe of pain.

"AAHHHHH!" Fernanda shrieked like an animal when something slapped her pussy. The priestess was whipping her there! Another thwack, and Fernanda felt like she might jerk her arms out of their sockets. The pleasure had increased tenfold as her pussy shrieked from the abuse. Slash. The muscles in her pelvis quivered and tightened and shifted and Fernanda felt herself catapulted into the stratosphere like a streaking comet, her orgasm a thunderclap that detonated in her ears. Her body jerked and writhed. She howled and gibbered. Spittle dripped down her chin. Ecstasy strobed in her brain, robbing her senses, leaving her blind. Dimly she was aware of more slashes, or her own animal screeching. Fresh scratches joining the legion of leaking wounds that oozed raw bliss into her bloodstream.

The punishment continued. Fernanda howled in a world gone mad, her second orgasm ringing in immediately after the first and the third following close behind. Lightning crackled in her brain. A maelstrom of pleasure buffeted her about and sucked her under the surface to be immersed in a sea of pleasure. She came up for air briefly, only for seconds at a time, before the next orgasm crashed over her like a wave and drowned her again. On and on, a storm without end. Slash. Her body a distant, quivering wreck. Slash. Brutal pleasure slapping against her body. Slash. Rising on the tidal wave of her next climax, then tumbling, and rising again.

Fernanda could not have guessed how long it went on. All her thoughts had been obliterated. No more regrets, no more anger, no more fear, just raw pleasure coursing through every cell in her body like white heat that raged and raged. Orgasm after orgasm carried her along until, at last, the tempest began to slow, the ecstasy to taper, Fernanda coasting through a long, long fall back to the reality of her senses again.

She was limp. A wreck, drawing air into ragged lungs. Sweat had drenched her hair. She felt fluid gushing down her thighs. The cords around her wrists and ankles bit cruelly, but they were soon cut, and she slumped to the ground.

"Fernanda!" The voice was familiar. Like someone she had known long ago. A friend. Emi. The girl was holding her.

"Fernanda talk to me!" Emily was crying. Fernanda could feel her tears. "They whipped you for so long! It was horrifying! You kept screaming and screaming."

"It's ok...I'm ok." Fernanda's murmured words sound strange even to her. Her eyes fluttered, still unable to focus.

"It didn't hurt, Emi. I'm ok."

"Let me heal you, at least. Please...Fernanda..." Emily wiped her nose, snivelling. She helped Fernanda sit up.

"No, no, I think...I'm fine. Look." She twisted her leg and pointed at the back of her thigh. "See? They're already closing."

"Some kind of healing agent?" asked Tatiana. "Interesting. We'll have to study it further."

All the mages were gathered around her, even Isabella, who seemed a lot calmer now. They collectively bent and helped their Archmage to her feet, with Emily supporting her under one shoulder since she was the only one small enough. The crowd seemed to be dispersing. They had got what they came for: a vicious show of a little girl cumming non-stop in front of them as she was whipped senseless. Dimly, Fernanda wondered if this was a common occurrence for them, or if her crime had been special.

"Come on, here we go. One foot in front of the other. There you go."

Fernanda felt a bit stronger already, but she let Emily guide her. They made their way slowly down streets that seemed to be returning to normal, with diminished foot traffic as the evening descended. The steep steps were a struggle, but with Emily's help Fernanda managed it.

"-must investigate the influence of some malign aphrodisiac, possibly co-mingled with a fast-acting healing tincture, with a special focus on subdermal exposure..."

Tatiana had begun magically dictating as soon as she got back to her Factorum. Of course she would want to meticulously document the historical event of Archmage Fernanda Oaxaca being whipped to a frenzy by the Camabahlam. Of course. Better not leave any details out, Tatiana, Fernanda thought woozily. Including how I came hundreds of times.

Emily pulled the curtain to her room aside and helped her undress and tumble into bed. Fernanda groaned and curled up like she was in the womb. The endless train of orgasms had exhausted her beyond belief. It had been a shattering experience. So much pleasure that the deluge has almost been like a punishment. It was shocking. Was this how the Camabahlam enforced their laws, or was this something special just for her? She could ask, but she felt certain she wouldn't get a straight answer. Maybe Tatiana could record enough details that they could reproduce the act once they got back to Teleria. It all seemed to hinge around that strange flower. Maybe they could negotiate for it. Fernanda groaned again, thinking about how the "negotiations" had gone today. Maybe they shouldn't ask for anything else.

It still didn't make sense to her though. She had defiled their idols, and worse, done it with magic. Why hadn't they all been made slaves immediately? Fernanda had a sinking feeling of dread that the King had shown her some kind of mercy, that he had spared her, but for what? Did he secretly want to continue the negotiations? Did he have some other plan for her? Did he just want to keep her for himself instead of consigning her to the sewers?

Fernanda forgot her musings when a warm body pressed up against her back. Emily had stripped and curled up next to her. It felt good. Emily probably sensed that Fernanda didn't want to be alone right now. She was always so empathetic towards others. She felt the girl's hand snake under her arm, hugging her from behind, and Fernanda took the hand in her own.

"It's ok Fernanda, just go to sleep. You need it."

"Hmmmm, Emi. I screwed everything up so bad."

"No, don't worry Fernanda. I still believe in you. As long as you're here, we can still succeed."

Exactly the kind of thing the naive little 9-year-old would say. Emily had a sweet heart, compassionate. Maybe too compassionate. Fernanda squeezed her hand.


"Mmmm." The girl moved sleepily against her back.

"You're a good friend," Fernanda said.

"The best," Emily chirped happily. "Now let's go to sleep."

Their breathing slowed as they began to drift off. Fernanda was grateful for the warm presence of her friend, because she felt as if eyes were watching her. An endless gaze, all around her, permeating the air. Watchful. Predatory. Hungry. A malevolent influence settling over the city like a fog. It was sated, for now, as if mollified by her experience in the plaza, but she knew its appetite was never truly satisfied.

Fernanda's eyes closed. She felt herself slipping into a void. The warm press of Emily against her back was a pleasing heat, a growing itch. Her dreams shifted and wove for hours, indistinct, and finally took form in a flying feathered serpent with a long, snakelike body, screeching with lust as it rammed its giant cock into a howling little girl on her hands and knees. Fernanda felt the heat of the scene, felt the desire coursing in her veins, the delicious, ravenous passion of raping a little girl. She was drawn to it, an inexorable pull. Her pussy throbbed with excitement, and when she reached down she felt that her clit had grown into a huge, long shaft like a smooth phallus, jutting out in front of her. It crackled with pleasure when she touched it. The little girl was in front of her, wailing, her naked body jerking back and forth as she was raped. Tears leaked from her eyes. Fernanda reached down and sank a fist into her hair and yanked her head up to look into her eyes.

It was Emily.

The 9-year-old was crying. Her expression was one of pleading desperation. Her head wrenched awkwardly from the violent thrusts against her bottom. Fernanda felt her enormous clit cock touch the girl's face, felt Emily's lips brush against it, and she shivered as a storm of pleasure raced through her. The burning itch was beating into a hot flame, a growing blaze that would soon become an all-consuming inferno of rapacious passion. Fernanda pulled Emily's head steady with her fist and straightened her clit-cock with her other hand, then rammed the unnatural thing straight into Emily's mouth.

Emi's screams were muffled. Her cries were delicious vibrations on Fernanda's throbbing clit. The fearful shaking of her body was a heady pleasure that Fernanda drank in. Together, the feathered beast and Fernanda spitroasted the tiny girl, ramming her back and forth in an endless rhythm, using her, raping her pathetic little girl cunt and mouth. Fernanda came again and again, her clit-cock filling her with frenzied passion as it slid along the girl's tongue and into her throat. On and on it went, a cycle of pleasure, an eternity of burning heat, endless climaxes exploding inside her in a timeless void like all the stars of the galaxies. A universal truth. A holy symbol. She Who Rapes.

In the darkness, from the depths of her dreams, Fernanda moaned. Her naked body shivered as she came in her sleep. All night long, her dreams were stirred by fantasies of wanton lust, rape in all its delicious forms, a burning hunger that was never satisfied. Shifting, each one different, each one the same.

And in the darkness, unseen by anyone, her skin began to glow.

Part 4