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tampered2007-03-14 03:00 am
kendogrl.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-14 03:00 am
Log; Completed
When; 3/14; Uke/Seme day
Rating; Pushing NC-17
Characters; Zaheela [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
henkonasuisho] and Motoko [kendogrl]
Summary; Demon!Motoko wants to have some fun, and gets lucky enough to snatch her prey just in time for a curse day.
Log;
Through abnormal black eyes with white pupils, Motoko stared across the bed at her prey that she’d finally caught and restrained. And if nobody could stop them even if they’d tried. The secret passages underneath the temple were a labyrinth, and the demon had spent quite a few days memorizing the path to this specific room, one that was quite out of the way and hard to find. There was little in the room, just the bed and a candelabra sitting on a small plain table, lighting the dim room. She sighed, wondering just how long the cat planned on sleeping. That was no fun. She couldn’t play if she wasn’t awake. But the demon had an enormous patience, and sat, watching, waiting.
Zaheela groaned as her eyes fluttered open, her stomach uneasy. Unsteadily, she pushed herself to her elbows, head swimming. The drugs were still potent in her system, as well as the fact she had been knocked out by a blow to the head. Falling back to the bed, she tried to focus her eyes in the darkness. She made a small weak mewing noise, uncharacteristically submissive from the start. Part of her hissed that something was wrong, but she couldn't focus, couldn't think. She wanted someone, she wanted him, but where was she? Something tangy and sultry tickled her nose. What was it?
The movement caught her eye immediately, and she slowly leaned forward, almost like a bird swooping for its prey. She lifted a hand and slid it down the girl’s cheek, bringing it to her chin and prodding her head up, staring down at her. “So glad you finally decided to join me, kitten.” The voice was Motoko’s, but the words and the tone were not. Inside, the girl had been defeated in her own mind, and now the demon had full reign over her body. Just thinking about it brought a grin to her face as she continued to watch Zaheela, waiting for her to wake up enough to provide some entertainment.
If that was what the demon wanted, it was what she got. The rush of chemicals, of mana flushing her system, her eyes grew wide, but she froze. She felt the fingers dance on her, but this was not right. There was a insane look in her eyes, something dark, dangerous, possessive and deadly.
“M...M....Mokoto?” She whimpered, ears flat. Her fingers bunched into the fabric of the bed, fear rushing through her system. Mokoto was her sister, she wasn't the one who... She let a soft whimper escape her. She was scared, submissive, and confused. What did Mokoto want from her? Her tail shifted and tried to tuck itself under her legs, as if seeking a warmth that no longer existed.
Her smirk growing wider, she brought her thumb up to the soft lips above, stroking over Zaheela’s lower lip slowly, affectionately, yet teasing at the same time. “She is tired now, too tired to control me. She, and you, are mine now. But don’t worry, I promise to take good care of you.” Her other hand rose to cup the side of her face, a strange reassuring gesture to be coming from a demon. The anticipation was almost killing her, but she knew she’d enjoy this day more if she dragged it out. She only hoped her little kitten would not disappoint.
The touch was warm, a major difference between her now dead body and Mokoto's warm one. The touch felt wrong, so wrong. Not the one she was used to, but there was something else that was also hindering her. She could smell the spice, the darkness pouring from 'Mokoto's' being, clashing with the gentle scent of lilies she currently possessed.
“Take... care of me?” She whispered, trying to crawl backwards, shoulders shaking. She wasn't used to someone dominating her so easily, it confused her, and she didn't know why she wasn't trying to fight back.
With a mock frown, she slid across the bed and pulled the other girl into her arms, tracing a line up her spine and to the top of her head, where she started to brush through her hair, cooing softly, “there’s nothing to worry about, you’re fine here.” It was easy, too easy, almost so easy that she found it boring, though it was amusing to see one who was usually so resilient submitting to her so easily. It wasn’t what she had planned on, but she’d make do with the present state of things. Leaning down she pressed her lips against Zaheela’s forehead, continuing to “comfort” the girl while she panicked.
“No!” Zaheela shirked, arms pushing Mokoto away. This wasn't what she was wanted, and she knew that Mokoto didn't want this, wherever she was stored away. Her ears were still flat against her skull, her shoulders still shaking, but she darted to the side, praying her magic had done enough to let her escape. But something went wrong, and she stumbled, her balance way off as she crashed to the floor.
Better. Much better. A small challenge would be more fun, it would make the end result so much more exhilarating. She descended off the bed slowly and looked down curiously at the cat. “Come now, kitten, I have no reason to harm you.” She crouched down in front of her, again lifting her head by the chin, but this time after staring for a few moments, she leaned her own face down, lightly nibbling on her lip, brushing her lips against Zaheela’s, always teasing, never settling with the two against each other. “Just relax,” she whispered against Zaheela’s cheek.
She whimpered and tried to pull her head away. Zaheela didn't want this, it wasn't right. It had to be a curse. A curse, which paralyzed her, domesticated her, tamed the inner beast.
“No... no! It's wrong!” She whimpered, trying to back away, back hitting the wall, fear plain in her eyes. In her mind, she screamed fight! Destroy, don't give in! The Bastard couldn't tame you, why aren't you even fighting? But her body refused to listen, she caved in. Legs shifted closed as she shut her eyes, feeling the near kiss dance above her lips.
“No... Mokoto... please... stop... fight... Please...” She sobbed.
With her back to the wall there was no place to run. She placed a hand against the wall on both sides of the cowering girl, crouching down again, her head turning to the side slightly with curiosity. This girl was the first she had been able to see herself, and not through the mind of her host body. The way she acted, the way she moved, all of it intrigued her, and made her little game all the more fun. She finally decided to quell some of her anxiety and pressed her lips to Zaheela’s briefly, watching her face for any changes, observing her every action.
At the press of the lips, Zaheela froze, her eyes clenching shut even tighter. The feel, the scent, all different. It wasn't Mokoto, it wasn't him, it was a stranger. She whimpered as the kiss continued, trapped between the wall and a soft body.
'Move!' She tried to will her limbs, 'MOVE! RUN!' She demanded, and inwardly, she snarled, strained against the curse and gained control, if only for a minute. A hand, steady and strong, slammed into Mokoto's chest, sending her away as she scrambled to her feet and darted towards the door. Only to stumble again, the curse regaining it's twisted hold and the drugs making her head spin. She wobbled, and staggered on her feet, dizzy. Leaning against the wall by the door frame, she panted as her vision danced in and out.
She couldn’t help but laugh at the attempt. Futile as it may be, the small bit of resistance she had shown was doing nothing but exciting her more. But now it was time for the true fun to start. Watching the figure leaning against the wall, she walked over and shoved the girl’s back to the wall, pinning her just below her neck with her forearm. Tangling a hand in her hair, she pushed her head forward and rushed in for a rough kiss, pulling back only to tease again. “Come now kitty, surely you want to play.”
Zaheela gasped as her body was shoved back, her air cut off. It was most likely a good thing that she didn't NEED air, but still. She struggled, she whimpered, she shook her head. She was helpless this day. Shorter, weaker, scared. She wanted someone to save her, never mind her body was toned from years of strenuous physical labor, legs powerful and body flexible.
“No, please don't. Mokoto, please stop... please!” She begged, and mentally she gagged. Too many times she had said please, she hated it. Her eyes caught onto the other woman's, but her soul was blazing from behind them. The curse may have had her body, but she was still there.
“Zae...” She choked back the rest of the word, biting her lip. No, never. Not that name. NEVER that name. “Mokoto, please, I beg of you, regain your senses!”
The demon nearly cackled, overjoyed by the response. She licked her lips, hungrily looking over the girl now begging for one who could not hear her. The cries were music to her ears. Starting with her mouth, Motoko kissed Zaheela again, tracing a line of kisses down her cheek, onto her neck. Keeping her pinned to the wall with her arm, she dropped her other down the side of the cat’s body, teasing the side of her breast through the fabric of the shirt she wore, coming to rest on the bare skin of her thigh. “You’ll have your precious Motoko back when I’m finished with you.” The words were malicious and cold.
“NO!” She screamed and her legs clenched shut. Her hands clawed at the arm pinning her neck, sharp nails biting at the skin. When the hand danced around the outer curve of her chest, she shuddered. The touch was teasing, barely there, and when the hand settled on her thigh, she whimpered. The words stabbed at her heart and she turned her head, eyes shut.
“Mokoto... I... I forgive you...” She whispered, praying that somewhere, inside that shell, the girl would hear. Her tail curled around her knee, and her she could feel tears, so foreign to her, begin to gather in the corner of her eyes.
The clawing hands made her shudder, red lines appearing across the skin of her host. That combined with the words of apology were answered by a brief laugh. “How cute.” The demon had not been laying dormant in Motoko all this time, but had been watching, observing what she could. And from what little she understood about this creature in front of her, she felt compelled to bite down into the soft flesh of her neck, just deep enough to draw beads of blood to the teeth marks, which she greedily lapped up. “Anything else you’d like to say to her?” Her hand slid across Zaheela’s thigh, rubbing her inner thigh as much as she could with the legs pressed firmly together.
She had been marked with a counter claim, she could feel the sexual stimulants rush through her system. A soft, pitiful mew was drawn from her as she could feel the euphoric like hormones slowly ooze through her blood. A soundless whine, and the insistent hand that so eagerly wished to part her legs. Already, Zaheela could smell the shift in scents, the gentle smell of snow lilies shifting to a more potent wildflower scent, and it made it all the harder to resist. The hand teased her, played with her, and it was working, her legs shifting open.
“I... don't... blame you... for any of this Mokoto... I'm so sorry...” She sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks this time. “I forgive you...” It became her mantra through all of this, repeating in her head. Her tail curled tighter around her knee as it became more obvious; the female mithra was responding to her instincts.
An amused hum escaped her lips as she felt Zaheela stop resisting, giving in to her urges. Insuring that she had gotten the girl going, she kissed back up to her soft lips and prodded them open with her tongue. The arm that had been holding her in place was removed, instead moving down to cup on of her breasts through her shirt. After teasing her body for what she deemed was long enough, she stopped completely, stepping back from the girl, hands folded across her chest as she waited to see the changes in the cat’s behavior that were sure to follow.
She panted for the sake of panting, legs shifting uncomfortably as the demon teased her, urged her, played with her. She could feel the sweat bead up on her skin, her ears limp against her skull. Her tail was still wrapped snuggly around her knee, but she was boneless as she collapsed to the floor. Mokoto had stopped the torture, but all that left was a burning ache (as contradictory as that seemed) in between her legs. Her legs shifted as she mewed her discontent. In her mind, she snarled. How pitiful, how WEAK, she wasn't like this, so submissive and eager to fuck. Stamina she had in spades, but actual carnal urges? No. She hated this curse, the demon, but her body, filled with enough chemicals to fill a apothecary, was willing.
A small whine as her own hands trailed down her shirt and felt between her legs, the wet feeling meeting the pads of her fingers. She grimaced, and moved her hand away, but not before another hot flash flared from her stomach.
“Please...” She whispered against her will. Her body wanted more, her mind wanted to fight, and the curse was making her sick.
The girl had said exactly what the demon wanted to hear. Begging for more, unable to control herself. She would take her time now. Her hand dropped to the blade Motoko always carried at her side, pulling it out, examining it in the dim light form the candle. She took a step forward, towering over the girl on the ground. Lowering the blade, she let the flat of the cold steel slide up her inner thigh, reaching her panties and just barely pressing against it, before sliding it back up, pressed against the sensitive skin underneath. She took the blade to her mouth, licking down its length, tasting the flavor of the wetness that had rubbed onto the sword.
Turning her attention back to the girl, she lowered the blade again, this time to the shirt she was still wearing. Slowly she cut each button off, leaving the garment open, exposing her to the demon. The blade was then sheathed, and she stepped back to take a long look at the girl who was throwing her body at her. She extended a hand, her slender fingers slowly uncurling and welcoming the girl. Though she was thoroughly enjoying herself, the bed would be a much more suitable location to continue.
If one could see the internal theater in Zaheela's head, one would see the equivalent of her going postal. So submissive, so eager, what was she? A low-bred mithra? Sure she had been sold as a baby, but she KNEW her mother was of higher breeding. Even when confronted by a fucking Espada she didn't open her legs so easily. She cursed the city, cursed this god-be damned fucking day, and she screamed. By all of hell, the city wasn't going to fucking break her! FUCKING HELL!!!!!
But of course we can't see the internal theater, only the fact that Zaheela was panting like a bitch in heat. The shirt slipped down narrow shoulders as instinct controlled her. Eyes watched the blade, and she shivered, staying rooted to the spot. She didn't want the demon or Mokoto, she just wanted to go home. She whimpered and hung her head, submissive all the way. She was scared of the woman, scared of the blade, and scared of the fact that she needed someone's touch. Fire burned through her, creating false warmth in her dead body. She needed release, but she didn't want it from the demon.
“I'm sorry Mokoto... I'm so sorry!” She whispered, tears rolling down her face.
If she wished to remain on the floor, the demon would not move her herself. She untied the belt on her large training garb, dropping the pants to the floor, and slipping out of the loose top with ease as well. The demon saw no purpose in the bindings nor the undergarments her host generally wore, and instead had remained naked under the clothing. Kneeling down before the other girl, she let her hand slide up her leg and onto her stomach, tracing patterns across her toned muscles before slipping the tips of her fingers under the garment. The other lightly circled around the soft flesh of an exposed breast, teasing her nipple by grazing it every so often. Stopping both actions abruptly, she whispered, “tell me what you want,” into her ear, her grin as wide and malicious as ever.
Zaheela's response of 'Go choke on your tongue and die' had shifted to a whimpering “Pleasssssssse” somewhere between the brain and the vocal cords. She reared into the feathery touch of the fingers around on her breast, the soft graze of the nail against her nipple as she purred her lust, shirt dipping even lower. The fingers dancing along her stomach were fanning the flames in her womb, but when they stopped, she keened. She arched, wanting more. More pleasure, more torture. She imagined it was someone else, she wished, she dreamed.
“Touch me...” She begged, the curse delighting in the role reversal of the affected. Trapped within, her soul and mind struggled for control, but all they did were open wounds. Her still heart ached, and her body throbbed.
“Good girl,” she replied, nibbling on her ear, pushing her fingers farther under her panties towards her warmth, her hand once against cupping the breast. Calm and collected as the demon seemed on the outside, mentally she was starting to feel a strain. Keeping control should not be this hard, not after finally gaining it. Release her, release me>, Motoko shouted from somewhere within. It had seemed Zaheela’s cries had not gone unheard. The demon cursed to herself, finding herself forced back to wait for another chance to truly awaken again. It didn’t matter though. Her toy had already completely succumbed; there was little more she could do that would be worth the trouble.
She fell limp against Zaheela’s body for a moment, eyes blinking once and returning to their natural color. She already knew where she was, she had watched, tried to fight her way out the entire time. She wanted to stop, to take back her actions, to apologize, to do anything to help the girl in front of her. “Zaheela,” she managed weakly, her willpower struggling to fight the curse.
Zaheela would of breathed a sigh of relief if she hadn't been affected by the curse. Instead, she just whimpered and scampered backwards, hugging her knees. The fear was stifling her thoughts, but at least she could count on Mokoto not to do anything unlike that creepy Demon.
”Mokoto...” She whispered.
Catching herself, she stared down at the floor, trying to make sense of what was going on. Her head was cloudy, her breath shallow. The effects of the curse and the excitement the demon had felt had taken a toll on her body, leaving her craving more. Glancing upwards through hazy eyes, she crawled forward closer, stopping just in front of the girl. She placed her hand on one of Zaheela’s, trying to calm her body.
A instinctual flinch and a body pressed against the wall again, Zaheela bit down a sniffle before throwing herself at Mokoto, sure that nothing would happen. She sobbed, the arousal overlapped with fear and tears. She was cold, tired, drugged, and the crook of her neck was pulsing.
“Mokoto, what happened? What happened to you?” She whimpered into the other woman's breasts, body unware of the consequences of such actions. Her mind gagged and snarled, but the curse favored the drama after all. “I was so scared!”
She let out a gasp, unprepared for Zaheela’s action, or the tingling feeling caused by the cat’s breath against her breast. But she refused to give in, not to something like this. Her hands slowly rose to hold the other girl close, to try to now calm both of them down. And all the while, Motoko didn’t notice Zaheela’s unusual behavior, completely focused on the battle within her. “She invaded my dreams, controlled me. I never thought myself to be so weak.” The cold body against her was a blessing and a curse, both comforting her to be near her, but at the same time fueling the burning desire building up inside of her.
“Please don't do that ever again!” She whined, eyes staring at the floor before nuzzling slightly. Her body acted happy that her sister was back, but mentally, she groaned.
Her body succumbing to the curse, she turned Zaheela’s head up and ducked her own head down, catching her lips for a deep, passionate kiss, one completely different from the teasing and malicious kisses before. Whether she wanted this or not, she still was not sure, but she knew this wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. A tear formed and fell, splashing across their cheeks. But she couldn’t pull herself away.
A gasp was swallowed, but Zaheela froze. This had to be a nightmare. No, no, she didn't want this. She squirmed, struggled, and pushed, trying to break the kiss. When she did, she scampered to the side, back hitting the end of the bed, eyes glowing in the faint light. It wasn't any different then before.
“Mokoto... You're not Mokoto!” She declared, hands gripping her shirt tight, shaking. The door was right behind Mokoto, just a simple leap and jump away, so why couldn't she head out that door?
“Zaheela,” she nearly sobbed, trying to keep herself from looking any weaker in front of her. “It is me, but…I can’t…stop. Please…forgive me.” She slowly stood again, eyes dropped towards the floor, taking hesitant steps forward. She willed her body to stop but it would not, and she lowered her hands down to help the girl up.
Zaheela just whimpered and tried to shove the hands away, unusually unbalanced and she fell to the bed, hair splayed in a halo, a whimper in her throat, a pathetic sight. One she wasn't used to, a role she wasn't used to.
“please... come to your senses!” escaped her mouth, her body pleading for mercy and the need for a savior, but her eyes were sad. “Mokoto... Please don't!”
Crawling onto the bed, her skin skimming across the cat’s, she slip until she was face to face with the girl, eyes watery but needy. Taking Zaheela’s hands into her own, she moved one to feel the wetness that had formed between her legs, threading her fingers through the other and holding it up past her head, holding her to the bed with it. Gaining control again for a second, she muttered, “help me.” But it was futile to resist, and she leaned down for a short kiss, leaving her lips inches away from Zaheela’s.
Her fingers were drenched in a slick heat, a sort of thin slime, and her skin crawled at the feeling. She tried to wrench her hands away, only aggravating that tiny nub hidden where her hand was forced to cup. Her tail curled tighter against her leg and she tried to scream, only to have it come out wordlessly. So close to breaking, to giving in, she cried. As Mokoto moved in, she whimpered even more, before taking in a deep breath.
“Save me! SOMEONE! PLEASE!” She screamed, the concept foreign to her mind and lips. She wanted someone to save her, to hold her. So wrong, so wrong, so wanted. Even as she screamed to no one to save her, her fingers dug in deeper, coaxing the woman to give into her need. Fear, instinct, curses, it all drove her to submit to the greater will.
She felt her body starting to move, to rub against the girl below her, against her willing hands. And she heard her cries for help, though she knew they would not reach anybody’s ears. The demon within laughed as she gave in, even more amused than she had been before. And both of them knew that once she was finished, she’d have no control again, leaving the demon to do as she pleased. She let out a moan that was muffled as she began peppering kisses down her cheek. Her breath was hot and heavy against the side of Zaheela’s face, and she leaned to her ear to whisper, “Zaheela…kill…me…” But her body kept moving, her own hand slipping beneath Zaheela’s panties to rub her soft flesh.
Kill her? Even if she wasn't so fucking submissive it hurt, Zaheela doubted she would be able to do such a thing. This was Mokoto, her sister, a dear one she wished to protect, fight beside. The movements, the hands touching her down there, they all burned. They fanned the ache again, but she didn't want this, she didn't need this. She didn't need to know the warmth of another person in THAT way, she didn't want to get addicted to it. She didn't want to know it after she had lost it!
“Mokoto! Please! Let me go! Plea...” Her words were muffled by lips and all she could do was sob and let Mokoto have her way with her. In her mind, she kept chanting her forgiveness, and somewhere, she screamed for a savior, anyone, someone, something. Stop them before it changed their lives. But no one came, and no one would be able to save either of them from this night.
Rating; Pushing NC-17
Characters; Zaheela [
henkonasuisho] and Motoko [kendogrl]Summary; Demon!Motoko wants to have some fun, and gets lucky enough to snatch her prey just in time for a curse day.
Log;
Through abnormal black eyes with white pupils, Motoko stared across the bed at her prey that she’d finally caught and restrained. And if nobody could stop them even if they’d tried. The secret passages underneath the temple were a labyrinth, and the demon had spent quite a few days memorizing the path to this specific room, one that was quite out of the way and hard to find. There was little in the room, just the bed and a candelabra sitting on a small plain table, lighting the dim room. She sighed, wondering just how long the cat planned on sleeping. That was no fun. She couldn’t play if she wasn’t awake. But the demon had an enormous patience, and sat, watching, waiting.
Zaheela groaned as her eyes fluttered open, her stomach uneasy. Unsteadily, she pushed herself to her elbows, head swimming. The drugs were still potent in her system, as well as the fact she had been knocked out by a blow to the head. Falling back to the bed, she tried to focus her eyes in the darkness. She made a small weak mewing noise, uncharacteristically submissive from the start. Part of her hissed that something was wrong, but she couldn't focus, couldn't think. She wanted someone, she wanted him, but where was she? Something tangy and sultry tickled her nose. What was it?
The movement caught her eye immediately, and she slowly leaned forward, almost like a bird swooping for its prey. She lifted a hand and slid it down the girl’s cheek, bringing it to her chin and prodding her head up, staring down at her. “So glad you finally decided to join me, kitten.” The voice was Motoko’s, but the words and the tone were not. Inside, the girl had been defeated in her own mind, and now the demon had full reign over her body. Just thinking about it brought a grin to her face as she continued to watch Zaheela, waiting for her to wake up enough to provide some entertainment.
If that was what the demon wanted, it was what she got. The rush of chemicals, of mana flushing her system, her eyes grew wide, but she froze. She felt the fingers dance on her, but this was not right. There was a insane look in her eyes, something dark, dangerous, possessive and deadly.
“M...M....Mokoto?” She whimpered, ears flat. Her fingers bunched into the fabric of the bed, fear rushing through her system. Mokoto was her sister, she wasn't the one who... She let a soft whimper escape her. She was scared, submissive, and confused. What did Mokoto want from her? Her tail shifted and tried to tuck itself under her legs, as if seeking a warmth that no longer existed.
Her smirk growing wider, she brought her thumb up to the soft lips above, stroking over Zaheela’s lower lip slowly, affectionately, yet teasing at the same time. “She is tired now, too tired to control me. She, and you, are mine now. But don’t worry, I promise to take good care of you.” Her other hand rose to cup the side of her face, a strange reassuring gesture to be coming from a demon. The anticipation was almost killing her, but she knew she’d enjoy this day more if she dragged it out. She only hoped her little kitten would not disappoint.
The touch was warm, a major difference between her now dead body and Mokoto's warm one. The touch felt wrong, so wrong. Not the one she was used to, but there was something else that was also hindering her. She could smell the spice, the darkness pouring from 'Mokoto's' being, clashing with the gentle scent of lilies she currently possessed.
“Take... care of me?” She whispered, trying to crawl backwards, shoulders shaking. She wasn't used to someone dominating her so easily, it confused her, and she didn't know why she wasn't trying to fight back.
With a mock frown, she slid across the bed and pulled the other girl into her arms, tracing a line up her spine and to the top of her head, where she started to brush through her hair, cooing softly, “there’s nothing to worry about, you’re fine here.” It was easy, too easy, almost so easy that she found it boring, though it was amusing to see one who was usually so resilient submitting to her so easily. It wasn’t what she had planned on, but she’d make do with the present state of things. Leaning down she pressed her lips against Zaheela’s forehead, continuing to “comfort” the girl while she panicked.
“No!” Zaheela shirked, arms pushing Mokoto away. This wasn't what she was wanted, and she knew that Mokoto didn't want this, wherever she was stored away. Her ears were still flat against her skull, her shoulders still shaking, but she darted to the side, praying her magic had done enough to let her escape. But something went wrong, and she stumbled, her balance way off as she crashed to the floor.
Better. Much better. A small challenge would be more fun, it would make the end result so much more exhilarating. She descended off the bed slowly and looked down curiously at the cat. “Come now, kitten, I have no reason to harm you.” She crouched down in front of her, again lifting her head by the chin, but this time after staring for a few moments, she leaned her own face down, lightly nibbling on her lip, brushing her lips against Zaheela’s, always teasing, never settling with the two against each other. “Just relax,” she whispered against Zaheela’s cheek.
She whimpered and tried to pull her head away. Zaheela didn't want this, it wasn't right. It had to be a curse. A curse, which paralyzed her, domesticated her, tamed the inner beast.
“No... no! It's wrong!” She whimpered, trying to back away, back hitting the wall, fear plain in her eyes. In her mind, she screamed fight! Destroy, don't give in! The Bastard couldn't tame you, why aren't you even fighting? But her body refused to listen, she caved in. Legs shifted closed as she shut her eyes, feeling the near kiss dance above her lips.
“No... Mokoto... please... stop... fight... Please...” She sobbed.
With her back to the wall there was no place to run. She placed a hand against the wall on both sides of the cowering girl, crouching down again, her head turning to the side slightly with curiosity. This girl was the first she had been able to see herself, and not through the mind of her host body. The way she acted, the way she moved, all of it intrigued her, and made her little game all the more fun. She finally decided to quell some of her anxiety and pressed her lips to Zaheela’s briefly, watching her face for any changes, observing her every action.
At the press of the lips, Zaheela froze, her eyes clenching shut even tighter. The feel, the scent, all different. It wasn't Mokoto, it wasn't him, it was a stranger. She whimpered as the kiss continued, trapped between the wall and a soft body.
'Move!' She tried to will her limbs, 'MOVE! RUN!' She demanded, and inwardly, she snarled, strained against the curse and gained control, if only for a minute. A hand, steady and strong, slammed into Mokoto's chest, sending her away as she scrambled to her feet and darted towards the door. Only to stumble again, the curse regaining it's twisted hold and the drugs making her head spin. She wobbled, and staggered on her feet, dizzy. Leaning against the wall by the door frame, she panted as her vision danced in and out.
She couldn’t help but laugh at the attempt. Futile as it may be, the small bit of resistance she had shown was doing nothing but exciting her more. But now it was time for the true fun to start. Watching the figure leaning against the wall, she walked over and shoved the girl’s back to the wall, pinning her just below her neck with her forearm. Tangling a hand in her hair, she pushed her head forward and rushed in for a rough kiss, pulling back only to tease again. “Come now kitty, surely you want to play.”
Zaheela gasped as her body was shoved back, her air cut off. It was most likely a good thing that she didn't NEED air, but still. She struggled, she whimpered, she shook her head. She was helpless this day. Shorter, weaker, scared. She wanted someone to save her, never mind her body was toned from years of strenuous physical labor, legs powerful and body flexible.
“No, please don't. Mokoto, please stop... please!” She begged, and mentally she gagged. Too many times she had said please, she hated it. Her eyes caught onto the other woman's, but her soul was blazing from behind them. The curse may have had her body, but she was still there.
“Zae...” She choked back the rest of the word, biting her lip. No, never. Not that name. NEVER that name. “Mokoto, please, I beg of you, regain your senses!”
The demon nearly cackled, overjoyed by the response. She licked her lips, hungrily looking over the girl now begging for one who could not hear her. The cries were music to her ears. Starting with her mouth, Motoko kissed Zaheela again, tracing a line of kisses down her cheek, onto her neck. Keeping her pinned to the wall with her arm, she dropped her other down the side of the cat’s body, teasing the side of her breast through the fabric of the shirt she wore, coming to rest on the bare skin of her thigh. “You’ll have your precious Motoko back when I’m finished with you.” The words were malicious and cold.
“NO!” She screamed and her legs clenched shut. Her hands clawed at the arm pinning her neck, sharp nails biting at the skin. When the hand danced around the outer curve of her chest, she shuddered. The touch was teasing, barely there, and when the hand settled on her thigh, she whimpered. The words stabbed at her heart and she turned her head, eyes shut.
“Mokoto... I... I forgive you...” She whispered, praying that somewhere, inside that shell, the girl would hear. Her tail curled around her knee, and her she could feel tears, so foreign to her, begin to gather in the corner of her eyes.
The clawing hands made her shudder, red lines appearing across the skin of her host. That combined with the words of apology were answered by a brief laugh. “How cute.” The demon had not been laying dormant in Motoko all this time, but had been watching, observing what she could. And from what little she understood about this creature in front of her, she felt compelled to bite down into the soft flesh of her neck, just deep enough to draw beads of blood to the teeth marks, which she greedily lapped up. “Anything else you’d like to say to her?” Her hand slid across Zaheela’s thigh, rubbing her inner thigh as much as she could with the legs pressed firmly together.
She had been marked with a counter claim, she could feel the sexual stimulants rush through her system. A soft, pitiful mew was drawn from her as she could feel the euphoric like hormones slowly ooze through her blood. A soundless whine, and the insistent hand that so eagerly wished to part her legs. Already, Zaheela could smell the shift in scents, the gentle smell of snow lilies shifting to a more potent wildflower scent, and it made it all the harder to resist. The hand teased her, played with her, and it was working, her legs shifting open.
“I... don't... blame you... for any of this Mokoto... I'm so sorry...” She sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks this time. “I forgive you...” It became her mantra through all of this, repeating in her head. Her tail curled tighter around her knee as it became more obvious; the female mithra was responding to her instincts.
An amused hum escaped her lips as she felt Zaheela stop resisting, giving in to her urges. Insuring that she had gotten the girl going, she kissed back up to her soft lips and prodded them open with her tongue. The arm that had been holding her in place was removed, instead moving down to cup on of her breasts through her shirt. After teasing her body for what she deemed was long enough, she stopped completely, stepping back from the girl, hands folded across her chest as she waited to see the changes in the cat’s behavior that were sure to follow.
She panted for the sake of panting, legs shifting uncomfortably as the demon teased her, urged her, played with her. She could feel the sweat bead up on her skin, her ears limp against her skull. Her tail was still wrapped snuggly around her knee, but she was boneless as she collapsed to the floor. Mokoto had stopped the torture, but all that left was a burning ache (as contradictory as that seemed) in between her legs. Her legs shifted as she mewed her discontent. In her mind, she snarled. How pitiful, how WEAK, she wasn't like this, so submissive and eager to fuck. Stamina she had in spades, but actual carnal urges? No. She hated this curse, the demon, but her body, filled with enough chemicals to fill a apothecary, was willing.
A small whine as her own hands trailed down her shirt and felt between her legs, the wet feeling meeting the pads of her fingers. She grimaced, and moved her hand away, but not before another hot flash flared from her stomach.
“Please...” She whispered against her will. Her body wanted more, her mind wanted to fight, and the curse was making her sick.
The girl had said exactly what the demon wanted to hear. Begging for more, unable to control herself. She would take her time now. Her hand dropped to the blade Motoko always carried at her side, pulling it out, examining it in the dim light form the candle. She took a step forward, towering over the girl on the ground. Lowering the blade, she let the flat of the cold steel slide up her inner thigh, reaching her panties and just barely pressing against it, before sliding it back up, pressed against the sensitive skin underneath. She took the blade to her mouth, licking down its length, tasting the flavor of the wetness that had rubbed onto the sword.
Turning her attention back to the girl, she lowered the blade again, this time to the shirt she was still wearing. Slowly she cut each button off, leaving the garment open, exposing her to the demon. The blade was then sheathed, and she stepped back to take a long look at the girl who was throwing her body at her. She extended a hand, her slender fingers slowly uncurling and welcoming the girl. Though she was thoroughly enjoying herself, the bed would be a much more suitable location to continue.
If one could see the internal theater in Zaheela's head, one would see the equivalent of her going postal. So submissive, so eager, what was she? A low-bred mithra? Sure she had been sold as a baby, but she KNEW her mother was of higher breeding. Even when confronted by a fucking Espada she didn't open her legs so easily. She cursed the city, cursed this god-be damned fucking day, and she screamed. By all of hell, the city wasn't going to fucking break her! FUCKING HELL!!!!!
But of course we can't see the internal theater, only the fact that Zaheela was panting like a bitch in heat. The shirt slipped down narrow shoulders as instinct controlled her. Eyes watched the blade, and she shivered, staying rooted to the spot. She didn't want the demon or Mokoto, she just wanted to go home. She whimpered and hung her head, submissive all the way. She was scared of the woman, scared of the blade, and scared of the fact that she needed someone's touch. Fire burned through her, creating false warmth in her dead body. She needed release, but she didn't want it from the demon.
“I'm sorry Mokoto... I'm so sorry!” She whispered, tears rolling down her face.
If she wished to remain on the floor, the demon would not move her herself. She untied the belt on her large training garb, dropping the pants to the floor, and slipping out of the loose top with ease as well. The demon saw no purpose in the bindings nor the undergarments her host generally wore, and instead had remained naked under the clothing. Kneeling down before the other girl, she let her hand slide up her leg and onto her stomach, tracing patterns across her toned muscles before slipping the tips of her fingers under the garment. The other lightly circled around the soft flesh of an exposed breast, teasing her nipple by grazing it every so often. Stopping both actions abruptly, she whispered, “tell me what you want,” into her ear, her grin as wide and malicious as ever.
Zaheela's response of 'Go choke on your tongue and die' had shifted to a whimpering “Pleasssssssse” somewhere between the brain and the vocal cords. She reared into the feathery touch of the fingers around on her breast, the soft graze of the nail against her nipple as she purred her lust, shirt dipping even lower. The fingers dancing along her stomach were fanning the flames in her womb, but when they stopped, she keened. She arched, wanting more. More pleasure, more torture. She imagined it was someone else, she wished, she dreamed.
“Touch me...” She begged, the curse delighting in the role reversal of the affected. Trapped within, her soul and mind struggled for control, but all they did were open wounds. Her still heart ached, and her body throbbed.
“Good girl,” she replied, nibbling on her ear, pushing her fingers farther under her panties towards her warmth, her hand once against cupping the breast. Calm and collected as the demon seemed on the outside, mentally she was starting to feel a strain. Keeping control should not be this hard, not after finally gaining it. Release her, release me>, Motoko shouted from somewhere within. It had seemed Zaheela’s cries had not gone unheard. The demon cursed to herself, finding herself forced back to wait for another chance to truly awaken again. It didn’t matter though. Her toy had already completely succumbed; there was little more she could do that would be worth the trouble.
She fell limp against Zaheela’s body for a moment, eyes blinking once and returning to their natural color. She already knew where she was, she had watched, tried to fight her way out the entire time. She wanted to stop, to take back her actions, to apologize, to do anything to help the girl in front of her. “Zaheela,” she managed weakly, her willpower struggling to fight the curse.
Zaheela would of breathed a sigh of relief if she hadn't been affected by the curse. Instead, she just whimpered and scampered backwards, hugging her knees. The fear was stifling her thoughts, but at least she could count on Mokoto not to do anything unlike that creepy Demon.
”Mokoto...” She whispered.
Catching herself, she stared down at the floor, trying to make sense of what was going on. Her head was cloudy, her breath shallow. The effects of the curse and the excitement the demon had felt had taken a toll on her body, leaving her craving more. Glancing upwards through hazy eyes, she crawled forward closer, stopping just in front of the girl. She placed her hand on one of Zaheela’s, trying to calm her body.
A instinctual flinch and a body pressed against the wall again, Zaheela bit down a sniffle before throwing herself at Mokoto, sure that nothing would happen. She sobbed, the arousal overlapped with fear and tears. She was cold, tired, drugged, and the crook of her neck was pulsing.
“Mokoto, what happened? What happened to you?” She whimpered into the other woman's breasts, body unware of the consequences of such actions. Her mind gagged and snarled, but the curse favored the drama after all. “I was so scared!”
She let out a gasp, unprepared for Zaheela’s action, or the tingling feeling caused by the cat’s breath against her breast. But she refused to give in, not to something like this. Her hands slowly rose to hold the other girl close, to try to now calm both of them down. And all the while, Motoko didn’t notice Zaheela’s unusual behavior, completely focused on the battle within her. “She invaded my dreams, controlled me. I never thought myself to be so weak.” The cold body against her was a blessing and a curse, both comforting her to be near her, but at the same time fueling the burning desire building up inside of her.
“Please don't do that ever again!” She whined, eyes staring at the floor before nuzzling slightly. Her body acted happy that her sister was back, but mentally, she groaned.
Her body succumbing to the curse, she turned Zaheela’s head up and ducked her own head down, catching her lips for a deep, passionate kiss, one completely different from the teasing and malicious kisses before. Whether she wanted this or not, she still was not sure, but she knew this wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. A tear formed and fell, splashing across their cheeks. But she couldn’t pull herself away.
A gasp was swallowed, but Zaheela froze. This had to be a nightmare. No, no, she didn't want this. She squirmed, struggled, and pushed, trying to break the kiss. When she did, she scampered to the side, back hitting the end of the bed, eyes glowing in the faint light. It wasn't any different then before.
“Mokoto... You're not Mokoto!” She declared, hands gripping her shirt tight, shaking. The door was right behind Mokoto, just a simple leap and jump away, so why couldn't she head out that door?
“Zaheela,” she nearly sobbed, trying to keep herself from looking any weaker in front of her. “It is me, but…I can’t…stop. Please…forgive me.” She slowly stood again, eyes dropped towards the floor, taking hesitant steps forward. She willed her body to stop but it would not, and she lowered her hands down to help the girl up.
Zaheela just whimpered and tried to shove the hands away, unusually unbalanced and she fell to the bed, hair splayed in a halo, a whimper in her throat, a pathetic sight. One she wasn't used to, a role she wasn't used to.
“please... come to your senses!” escaped her mouth, her body pleading for mercy and the need for a savior, but her eyes were sad. “Mokoto... Please don't!”
Crawling onto the bed, her skin skimming across the cat’s, she slip until she was face to face with the girl, eyes watery but needy. Taking Zaheela’s hands into her own, she moved one to feel the wetness that had formed between her legs, threading her fingers through the other and holding it up past her head, holding her to the bed with it. Gaining control again for a second, she muttered, “help me.” But it was futile to resist, and she leaned down for a short kiss, leaving her lips inches away from Zaheela’s.
Her fingers were drenched in a slick heat, a sort of thin slime, and her skin crawled at the feeling. She tried to wrench her hands away, only aggravating that tiny nub hidden where her hand was forced to cup. Her tail curled tighter against her leg and she tried to scream, only to have it come out wordlessly. So close to breaking, to giving in, she cried. As Mokoto moved in, she whimpered even more, before taking in a deep breath.
“Save me! SOMEONE! PLEASE!” She screamed, the concept foreign to her mind and lips. She wanted someone to save her, to hold her. So wrong, so wrong, so wanted. Even as she screamed to no one to save her, her fingers dug in deeper, coaxing the woman to give into her need. Fear, instinct, curses, it all drove her to submit to the greater will.
She felt her body starting to move, to rub against the girl below her, against her willing hands. And she heard her cries for help, though she knew they would not reach anybody’s ears. The demon within laughed as she gave in, even more amused than she had been before. And both of them knew that once she was finished, she’d have no control again, leaving the demon to do as she pleased. She let out a moan that was muffled as she began peppering kisses down her cheek. Her breath was hot and heavy against the side of Zaheela’s face, and she leaned to her ear to whisper, “Zaheela…kill…me…” But her body kept moving, her own hand slipping beneath Zaheela’s panties to rub her soft flesh.
Kill her? Even if she wasn't so fucking submissive it hurt, Zaheela doubted she would be able to do such a thing. This was Mokoto, her sister, a dear one she wished to protect, fight beside. The movements, the hands touching her down there, they all burned. They fanned the ache again, but she didn't want this, she didn't need this. She didn't need to know the warmth of another person in THAT way, she didn't want to get addicted to it. She didn't want to know it after she had lost it!
“Mokoto! Please! Let me go! Plea...” Her words were muffled by lips and all she could do was sob and let Mokoto have her way with her. In her mind, she kept chanting her forgiveness, and somewhere, she screamed for a savior, anyone, someone, something. Stop them before it changed their lives. But no one came, and no one would be able to save either of them from this night.
no subject
Yoda to the rescue? :)
Or even Yoda to the late rescue. The poor guy has nothing to do. :P]
OOC;
Re: OOC;