20

Once we’re back in the house, Feather goes to put the objects we stole in the library, while I drag my victim downstairs, paralyze her with a fresh swipe of my tongue, and fling her body into a back room of the lower level. As I hoped, Meerwunder waddles into the room after her, eager for a meal. I close the door behind him. He can get out of the chamber if he wants to, but I’m betting on his lazy nature and the fact that he’ll want to sleep after his meal and digest his food for a while. If I’m right, he’ll stay put, giving me and Feather several hours of privacy.

My victim is lucky that I don’t have time to visit upon her body all the pain and deprivation her child suffered. I’d rather be done with her, so I can focus on the sweet torment I’ve planned for Feather.

The amulet still hangs around my neck, beneath my cape. I take it off and lay it aside, but I don’t divest myself of my clothing or mask just yet. That will come later.

I inspect the tools of my trade, but most of them are too bloody, corroded, or grimy to use on Feather’s delicate body. Fortunately I spot one of my switches—a long, smooth, pliable stick of white wood, cut from a sapling. It’s as thick as my finger and nearly as smooth as her lovely skin—the perfect tool to make her confess everything to me.

The dungeon smells better than usual, since it’s been free of bodies for a while, but I light a censer of magical incense anyway, to purify the air. I want to torture Feather sensually, not sicken her with foul odors.

When she descends the steps into the torture room, I’m still in Krampus form, standing by one of the tables with my arms folded.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her.

She has already shed her cloak, and she slips easily out of the unbuttoned gown. She stands naked in the gloomy chamber, glancing nervously around at my implements of torture.

I take a moment to appreciate the pert plumpness of her breasts, the lithe curves of her waist and hips, and the anxious pout of her plump mouth. She’s still wearing the emerald hourglass she found, and the earrings I gave her, but those items are her only adornment.

“Get on the table and lie down,” I command her.

She climbs onto it and stretches herself out, her breasts peaked in the chilly air of the dungeon. The sweet musk of her arousal mingles with the fragrance of the incense, but I detect a hint of fear from her, too. Good. It will make her confession and her eventual release all the sweeter .

One by one, I clamp padded restraints around her wrists and ankles. The ankle restraints have less slack, which forces her to keep her legs wide apart and gives me the access I need to that pretty little glistening cunt.

She’s watching me, wide-eyed. Her stomach concaves with every quick, terrified breath that passes between her rosy lips.

I finish with the last ankle restraint and walk to the head of the table. When Feather licks her lips, leaving them glossy and wet, need coils low in my gut. I thought I was spent, but being in this form has given me fresh strength. Everything about me is bigger right now, including the heavy cock thickening between my furred legs.

Feather looks up at me, her eyes soft and pleading. “Before we begin, will you kiss me? Just once?”

“Right now, my tongue can paralyze you,” I tell her.

“Oh.” She turns thoughtful for a second, then meets my gaze again, a spark of wickedness in her eye. “If you use your tongue on me, can I still feel things?”

“You will feel everything I do to you, but you won’t be able to move or speak for several minutes.”

“Do it,” she breathes. “I’m already yielding myself to you. I can give up a little more control.”

I hesitate. “You won’t be able to speak your confession… or your safe word.”

“Only for a short time.” Her gaze is bright, determined. “If I’m going to tell you everything, I have to be able to trust you that long. Krael, I need this. I am choosing this. Please… kiss me… and then do what you want to me.”

The sweet bravery in her eyes finishes me. I’m helpless to resist, so I lean down, tipping up my mask a little so my mouth can seal over hers.

She has the softest lips, and she opens them wide for me. I send my poisonous tongue slithering in, deep as I can, probing the tip down her throat until I feel her gag reflex start to kick in. Then I break the kiss and withdraw the slippery length from her mouth.

Her eyes are wide open. She can blink, but less often than usual, and her breathing isn’t so fast. The poison slows the essential functions of the body without stopping them, but other than those essential functions, she’s motionless. Helpless. And the darkest part of me loves the sweet possession, the ultimate control I have over her in this moment.

I take her body in my hands, right beneath her shoulders, and I drag my palms down her sides, her waist, her hips, her thighs. I frame it all, and then I go back and fondle the two plush little breasts, sucking each one into my mouth in turn. With the sharp points of my fangs I tease the rosy nipple of her left breast, smelling the sudden burst of her arousal in the air.

I can’t help grinning as I step away from the table to get the switch. Feather’s eyes follow the path of my hand as I raise the slender stick and bring it down swiftly across her thighs. I keep the blow light—just a little sting, nothing that will hurt for long or leave a mark. The moment after the blow falls, I take the tip of the switch and set it against her clit. Gently I wiggle it there. She closes her eyes, and a fresh flood of arousal scent permeates the room.

I use the switch on her breasts next—light swats, only enough to cause the faintest sting. Soon she’ll realize that the torture I’ve planned for her was never going to be the physically painful kind, but a slow, agonizing tease to orgasm, followed by denial after denial. I will edge her for hours, until I’m convinced I’ve drained every last secret from this dark little soul.

Again I touch the end of the switch to her clit, jiggling it with a quick, precise, repetitive motion while her eyes go half-hooded, glazed with lust.

“What do you want, Feather?” I murmur, working her closer to climax. “Do you want to come? ”

I watch her small pussy for signs when she’s close. The lips of her sex are slightly parted, revealing her soaked slit to me. When she begins to tighten and tremble, I stop teasing her and I smack her thighs with the switch.

She can’t speak yet, but she whimpers.

That small feral sound of craving sears straight through my brain, and for a moment, I go utterly mad.

I forget what I planned. I drop the switch and stride to the head of the table, dispelling my cape on the way. From the waist up, I’m the brawny Krampus, gifted with more strength than the average Fae, and from the waist down I’m coated in thick, shaggy brown fur. My cock protrudes from the fur, a massive, veined, brown length with a bulbous head that’s already leaking arousal. I plant one cloven hoof up on the table and swing my hips forward so the huge cock juts directly over Feather’s face.

I’ve never fucked anyone when I’m in this form. And I’m desperate to see how it feels.

Feather’s lips are slightly parted, and I lower the side of my cock shaft against them, rubbing myself across her mouth. She holds my gaze, a debauched need in her eyes. That look emboldens me, and I grip the end of my cock, squeezing precum onto her lips, glazing them with it before I dip inside her mouth.

I turn her head to the side so I can fuck her mouth more easily. I’m too big to enter her very far, but I let her feel me, taste me. My cock is burning, aching so badly I can hardly stand it, so I wrap my hand around its girth and stroke, fast and frenzied, while the tip of my cock stays between her lips.

She never breaks the eye-lock with me. I grunt harshly, deep animal sounds bursting from my throat as I work my cock harder, faster.

When my balls tighten and the ecstasy starts, I jerk the head of my cock out of her mouth and swivel my hips. My cum spurts across her body, painting her collarbones, her breasts, and her stomach. Convulsive groans of agonized pleasure shudder through me, each one a sacrifice to her beauty, the primal sexuality of her.

As my orgasm ebbs, I turn back, poke my cock head between her lips again, and stroke hard once more, squeezing the last bit of cum into her mouth.

Panting heavily, I pull her jaw down and see the creamy white cum dripping over her teeth, pooling at the inside of her cheek.

It’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.