The Succling and Her Dues

Chapter Two: Act 5

Trigger Warning: Explicitly graphic and s****l content simulating r**e, torture, gaslighting, and unwarranted gratification.

[Victorian District, 2018 (Continued…)]

Styna’s a nice f**k, that Trenton knew. But seeing her facing away on her hands and knees never looked better. Trenton didn’t have to draw attention to her dry, seductive expressions, picturing Anara, instead. Of course, he would never plug Anara’s drenching p***y with a lit candlestick without her consent. Nor would he think of pumping her ass with boiling water. Styna, on the other hand, was an unnecessary utility—to be used at his disposal.

After losing count of how many times he filled the tube with bubbling Adam’s ale, Trenton scrunched his nose. The anticipation of Styna’s scream dawdled. “Tell me. Do maids, like you, ever endure pain?”

The tip of the baster loomed around her forbidden entrance, ready to fill her burdened compartment of water-resistant wires.

Her head twitched for a moment but not enough to cause alarm. “No, sir,” she responded. A brief flash of cryptic code appeared under the plastic lens of her eyes, emoting tiny yellow warning pyramids. “Would you like me to?” She simpered, not that he would see it, awaiting his command.

“Simulate something violent. Disgustingly so…”

“Processing…” Her eyes glossed over, speeding through her internal search engine. “Processing…” Downloading images. Previewing porn simulators that were derogatory and abusive in nature. “Processing…” Articles of acid throwing and videos of women screaming helplessly as onlookers watched and recorded their suffering. “Process complete.” Her body jolted, her face planting hard on the floor beneath her.

A laceration appeared on her forehead. No coolant or oil, however, pooled out. She whimpered as her head lifted, her eyebrows knitting together as her lips trembled. “Is this enough?” She asked.

Trenton pursed his lips, then got down on his knees to assess what she had done. Displeased, he lunged away and retrieved the spatula.

THWACK!

Teardrop lines appeared on her synthetic flesh. “More.”

Styna twisted her left arm until it snapped at the forearm. She yelped, artificial tears spilling from the brim of her lashes.

THWACK! THWACK!

The imprints on her posterior became a discolored splotch of greenish blue. But Trenton wanted… “MORE!”

Styna slumped forward, her asshole pointing toward the ceiling. “Please!” she begged, eyeing the baster.

Trenton smirked, chuckling to himself as he strolled away, only to return with a funnel and a full pot of blistering water. Without warning, he shoved the tip of the funnel into her condemned black hole.

This time, Styna shrieked, shooting up from the ground. Trenton grappled the nape of her neck and pinned her down. “No. You’re going to take this scalding mess like a good doll. You’re mine to do with as I please. Understand?”

She nodded, whimpering.

“Good.” He started pouring the water down the funnel, sending Styna into overdrive. More warning flashes appeared in her irises. Blood-curdling screams escaped her as the searing liquid filled her wired compartment to capacity, forcing the water to spill out over the rim and splatter against her skeletal suit.

“f**k…” Trenton murmured as the last bit of the water from the pot emptied into the flooded funnel. He watched and waited for the water to cool down before unplugging the plastic contraption and ramming the now-empty turkey baster in its place.

Ignoring Styna’s pleas to stop, he worked the baster in and out of her, excited to see water spurt out of her with each thrust. While doing this, he pulled out a lighter, hoping the water wouldn’t ruin his chances at relighting the nearly finished candlestick. No luck, though.

Simultaneously, he worked both the baster and candlestick. Shoving them in unison. His c**k twitched under the confines of his trousers. Pausing to unzip the metal teeth, his c**k sprung forward. Grasping at the hilt of his phallus, he crawled toward Styna’s head and lifted her from the ground.

“Open your mouth.” It was cold, his command. His eyes held little emotion as her lips wrapped around his head. In seconds, she engulfed his entire cane of girthy meat, slurping away as muffled screams and heavier tears poured out of her.

Trenton reached over her back, spanking her ass and watching it jiggle as he repeatedly whipped her with his bare hands. Then, firmly grasping the baster and candlestick once more, he impelled her expeditiously.

Coolant took the place of Styna’s artificial tears, coating the flashing of red within the pupils of her bionic eyes. Spluttering as her neck imploded from the splitting of oil-filled tubes puncturing the skin.

[Victorian District, 2018 (Same Time)]

A mahogany door swung open to a crystal parlor. Dazzling hues of the rainbow glittered on the floor as the ceiling orbs of light blazed through thousands of diamonds chained to chandeliers. The marble floor, checkered masonically, was emerald and white with tiny squares of golden flowers merging at the points of each tile.

It was Phillip’s idea to pay tribute to Death by incorporating the ostentatious, yet immortal, being’s signature flower. It should have helped Anara’s nerves as she stared at the floral appliques—as they had so many times before—still frozen in the door frame.

“You little b***h!” Cauva shoved Anara from behind onto the polished floor.

Anara’s face connected with the floor, busting her lip in the process. She counted to ten, her head buzzing from the impact.

“You had one task,” Cauva continued, hissing, her eyes burgeoning in the brightest shade of green. “Do you enjoy disappointing me?”

Stilled by her accusatory claim, Anara shook her head, swaying side to side until she was steady enough to stand straight. She turned around, facing Cauva with eyes pearling tears. “What would have prevented you from leaping out of the fire and finishing him off, yourself?”

Cauva’s slap echoed in the foyer. Though Anara’s face turned to the side, she did not falter from her spot. She took the slap with little remorse for her earlier trepidations. She faced Cauva again, only to be struck on the other cheek.

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” Anara whispered. This only infuriated Cauva more.

Aquarius entered through the entrance door. Languished by Cauva’s actions against Anara, she rushed to Anara’s side, blocking another blow with her own face.

Cauva’s hair coiled toward the ceiling, the ending floating and transitioning into whisps of onyx smoke. Her eyes jumped between emerald and rose gold as if fighting the urge to destroy Aquarius where she stood.

Upstairs, a door creaked open, with heavy footsteps rushing toward the spiraling staircase to the right of the foyer. Phillip, whose groggy red eyes and disheveled gray hair gave way to his interrupted nap, sped down the steps. “What is going—”

Having caught the end of Cauva slapping Aquarius, he rushed over and shielded her in his arms. “Seven Hells! Are you alright, my love?”

Cauva’s hissing fell on deaf ears as Phillip sought to comfort his partner.

“I’m alright,” Aquarius chuckled. “You should worry about your mother.”

Phillip peered over her shoulder, horror registering on his face to see Anara’s cheeks plastered in red markings. “Mother!” He rushed from Aquarius to Anara in one swift step. Feeling helpless, he kissed her cheeks and forehead, embracing her like a father does their daughter. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop it.”

“You should ask your dear mother what she did to deserve it,” Cauva scoffed. “All of you coddle her. Praising her for simply—”

“Whatever it is that she’s done,” Phillip interrupted, “is a mere oversight. Perhaps you rushed her into this situation.” He gulped hard, thinking back to a call he made a few days ago, arranging a dinner for both Trenton and Anara, simply because Cauva forced his hand. Anara agreed to the dinner, despite her reservations regarding the broker. I hope you forgive me, Mother.

“Ha!” Cauva’s eyes fixated on Phillip before glancing between Aquarius and Anara. “Spoken like a true prince.” She clopped her heels across the floor, standing below a three-tiered chandelier. A soft pink glow radiated off her skin—a typical reaction to any form of light eclipsing her dark complexion.

Anara bit her inner cheek. If Cauva found out that Phillip wasn’t her late husband’s heir… Anara couldn’t fathom the storm that would brew from Cauva’s anguish. Shaking the thought, Anara held her breath like a precious commodity. As though Cauva sucked the oxygen from the entire mansion.

“Syifus should have listened to me.” Cauva’s head bowed, her fingers dancing in the haze of colors reflecting on her chocolate epidermis. “He was too soft. Too… accommodating. The one thing that took him away from me, is the one thing that is keeping me from obtaining what I want most. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Her sentiments rattled Anara’s stomach. She could not ignore the encounter she had with Syifus all those decades ago. Though it was only a kiss between them, shame and a sense of forlornness trapped Anara into almost submitting herself to Cauva’s every whim.

Almost.

Skimming across the room, Anara reached for Cauva’s hand. “Please.” She gently squeezed Cauva’s elegant fingers. “I never meant—” Another sting landed across Anara’s cheek.

Cauva sneered, derangedly glaring at Anara’s hand as though it were a contagious anomaly. Never mind the searing thoughts rooted in her mind. Betrayal was practically welded in the rings of her sunflowering irises.

Rushing over, Phillip hugged Anara, a scowl painting his face as he glanced at Cauva, whose eyes rolled. He cupped Anara’s face again, brushing his thumbs gently across her reddened face. “Mother, are you alright?” He directed his attention back to Cauva. “You shouldn’t indulge yourself with violence, Cauva. What good comes of it?”

His directness irked Cauva to no end. If only I had killed you when I had the chance. No one ever challenged her authority. People usually crumbled under the weight of her pressing heels, her sultry stare, and any other means to subdue them. It reminded her of Death, and she hated Phillip more for it. But, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to pull the fragile strings of Anara’s heart.

Feigning ignorance, Cauva shook her head, then pulled Anara away from Phillip, lovingly caressing her. “Of course, I forgive you. How incompetent of me to ignore your suffering, as well.” She leaned in. In her most alluring tone, she whispered, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Surprised by Cuava’s sudden change, she warily complied. As she followed her up the staircase, she looked back one final time.

Her son was distraught by her willingness to indulge Cauva, knowing well what power Cauva had over her. Aquarius intertwined her fingers with his, her tightened smile sending a wave of assurance that all would be fine for Anara.

After reaching the second floor, Anara and Cauva approached the first door to their right and entered it. Unlike the lit foyer, it was dark, save for the lava dripping between ebony wall posts on all sides of the massive space. A canopy bed made of jarrah red hardwood occupied the center of the room with silver ring hooks fixated to each poster. Sheer black fabric billowed from the onslaught of wind entering an open window that overlooked a serrated forest.

Cauva nuzzled behind Anara, her hands groping every inch of fabric until her palms breached Anara’s throat.

Anara’s fabric cinched from Cauva’s touch, combusting into specks of dust and floating toward the soft carpet below. Her skin prickled—her n*****s sharpening to points—from the sizzling grip around her slender throat.

“I have something for you.” With her free hand, Cauva snapped her finger.

An oval-shaped obsidian mirror fell from the ceiling, hanging inches from the ground. It floated up, with a burgundy glow rotating around the object.

Anara’s reflection struck back, but Cauva was not there. In her place was a replica of Anara whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Anara’s eyes widened, but fear was soon replaced with curiosity. “What is this?”

“Whatever you want me to be,” Cauva replied, venom laced in her soothing tone. “Have you ever wondered what you looked like when being f****d senselessly by someone else?” Cauva left a trail of kisses Anara’s shoulder.

All Anara could see was herself leaving the marks on her own skin. It made her core leak with anticipation. To feel herself indulged by a look-alike. She thought harder and reminisced over the fond memories of the pottery closet. Her secret lover’s lips were on hers. Her wanton need to have him inside her.

“Oh?” Cauva jeered. “How long have you thought about Plaucius?” Anara’s face paled when her lover stood in place of her second reflection. His features were subtle: a strong jawline, pearly brown eyes, and sandalwood skin glazed in sweat. He looked like a replica of Trenton in many ways, but his wicked smile enraptured her.

“Would you indulge me, then?” Cauva plucked several coiled strands from her head, watching as it fused with her vaginal folds and transformed into a pulsating cone with a jagged tip. She braced Anara’s hips, spreading her thighs apart before ramming the tip into Anara’s cunt.

The sharpness of the simulated p***s left Anara teary-eyed. But no matter how she pleaded for the splitting pain to end, it fell on deaf ears. All she could do was watch her reflection, and the man she had loved f**k her to the point of bleeding out around his intruding c**k.