Meat Ninja: Robin - Ch. 08

E08: Ashes

Robin stared out at the wasteland, and the wasteland stared back.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

The dick in her pussy was like a piston, and its owner's crotch made loud, slapping noises against the thick, soft flesh of her ass. The clapping reverberated out of the window, floating away on a dead breeze over the desolate scenery.

There were no birds; no noise.

It was not just the burned, flat ground that seemed devoid of life; but also, the vast, empty sky over this particular land that stretched to the horizon like a grey-blue desert.

"Ugh! My lord!" Robin moaned lustily, she threw a look back at him over one bared, round shoulder, still slick with perspiration that glittered there like tiny gemstones. The kunoichi licked her red lips. "My lord! My Daimyo. Fuck me! Fuck me harder!"

His grip tightened on her hips, and he pulled her back towards him as he threw his pelvis forward. They were fucking hard enough to shake the drapes, making all the rings clatter over the window.

The carriage was beyond opulent: Four suspension layers; silk-draped interior. Imported incense that tried hard to overpower the smell of burning and death outside. The Daimyo was kneeling on embroidered cushions the size of a normal household bed; and in front of him, Robin wriggled her bared, cum-slick ass like a whore. In between her ample cheeks, the Daimyo's penis had swollen to such a state that it ballooned a deep red. He plunged it repeated in and out of her pussy.

Wet and slippery, yet tighter than he was used to today. The Daimyo howled his pleasures, and he reached around, grabbing one of Robin's big, dangling breasts and kneaded it roughly. She screamed her pleasures back at him, even when her eyes were focused outside.

Robin was wearing expensive ceremonial robes again: The kind expensive mistresses wore to their own wedding to be recognized as an official concubine to the mighty. Pristine white garters circled her legs, with a massive frilly dress draped over her back. The dress was translucent, and made of such thin, fine silks that the only evidence to its existence was a radiant flicker whenever it caught a wink from the sun. The corset was also specially designed, binding the waist before fanning off to either side. The cups had the effect of hands, perpetually pushing the breasts higher, and easily accentuated even a modest bust to form a visible, meaty cleavage. On Robin, the effect was of tits so big, so magnificently soft and firm, that the Daimyo could not keep his hands off them.

The young woman was currently being fucked up against the window. She wasn't even facing him, for Robin was bent over. Her palms braced against the carriage's curved glass, and her breasts were squished flat against it, nipples forming wide, dark circles where they squeaked up and down in time with his thrusts. Robin screamed. Her head slammed into the window from the force of his pushes. Her face was now also flattened over the pane, and when she panted, the glass even fogged up a little.

"Ah! Ah! My lord! My lord! Please! Fuck me--break your whore!"

He laughed his manic, hyena laugh and slapped her ass again.

She squealed in delight.

They continued looking out at the countryside together.

Burned homes.

Blackened trees.

Collapsed irrigation ditches choked with soot.

No people. No dogs. No birds.

Just, ash.

Robin tried not to gag. The Daimyo reached around and stuck his fingers into her throat. She moaned, sucked them eagerly as drool rolled out of a corner of her mouth. He began choking her and she replied by groping one of her own huge, swinging breasts. Meanwhile, the world outside continued rolling by.

A broken swing.

A half-crushed cart.

A bone in the dirt, next to which stuck out something like a child's shoe.

Behind her, the Daimyo was making little pleased noises: "I know it doesn't look like much now, Robin dear, but that's kinda what you expect when you buy second-hand."

He kept rutting her up against the glass, and his long penis was buried to its hilt inside her moist snatch. He clapped his pelvis against her willing buttocks, and Robin nodded, moaning her own meek compliances. She kept her head down, panting breathlessly as her ass continued pushing back onto him, coating his cock with her juices.

He kept on talking.

"This part here's got great potential for rice farming. Can you imagine it? Golden fields, friendly peasants, a little open-air market with seasonal root vegetables--ugh!"

He pulled her head back by her hair. Robin cried out as her face was peeled from the window. Her tits, however, remained pressed up against the glass. They were just that big, that soft as they squeaked noisily over the pane.

"A nice little project for both of us whenever we get together. We can import settlers. The kind just to your liking. What would you prefer, my sweet seamstress? A quaint city of potato peddlers? Or maybe we dress them all in loincloths, give them wooden spears with stone tips and pretend we discovered the last savage land untouched by civilization! Or--"

he was so happy just then he came, filling her pussy once again with his sperm.

"--ughhh! Maybe even a big town that's centered around a church! Where everybody is too religious and faithful and chaste and the priests will flog you in public if you accidentally show a calf--because, Robin dear, I really, really want to see how you would do as a lonely, helpless nun!"

That seemed to push him over the edge, and Robin felt his hands on her white thighs as he rubbed his penis all over her ass. Then, she felt something hot and stiff push up against her anus, and Robin took a deep breath. She lowered her head. A low, enticing groan followed before she reached back to spread open her ass for him.

A push, and Robin screamed.

Her ass was filled, his dick scalding hot where it embedded itself into her fleshy buttocks. Robin bit her lips, shuddering all over. She had seen him taking those pills again, and the effect was plainly felt now deep inside her colon. He grabbed a handful of her soft, bouncy buttocks and started swinging his hips back and forth.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! My lord--!"

The hard, thick cock plunged into and out of her ample ass. Enough that the heat spread out swiftly from Robin's filled anus until she was thrown up against the window again. A loud bang, and the shutters fluttered open. The woman was propelled halfway out of the cabin, huge tits now slapping against the carriage walls on every backswing. She screamed her pleasures to the heavens, but there was no answer.

The sky was still. And completely, utterly silent.

Robin shook her ass like a slut. Her hands clawed at the walls of the carriage as her tits continued their ceaseless, fleshy drumming over the wood. At some point, the heat intensified in her ass, and the Daimyo was cumming again. He splashed his seed against the walls of her colon, and Robin moaned, throwing a burning look over her shoulder. Her eyes were watery with submission and regret, and it made him puff out his chest.

Meanwhile, outside, the scenery continued rolling by.

Eventually, they stopped before a hill. Or, at least, it looked like a hill. The carriage called to a halt in the middle of the road, and the Daimyo disembarked first, practically bouncing out of the cabin in his excitement. He turned around at the door, extending a hand to Robin gallantly. She came down a staircase made of human bodies as the Daimyo's retinue, today about a modest dozen or so footmen, knelt in rows before the carriage door.

Robin descended the soft, fleshy steps with the pomp and glamor of a visiting princess. Her stiletto heels, each about twelve inches long and resembling shining black needles, dug painfully into the backs of the servants. It may be worth mentioning that the carriage was equipped with a fully automatic, gilded mechanical staircase (encrusted with diamonds) but somehow that might have seemed tacky, given the occasion.

As they walked, the Daimyo kept one hand on Robin's bared, swaying ass. The grey, sooty hill was difficult to climb, for it had a steep incline, and the coal-like grime could be slippery in places. Yet, the Daimyo was determined to be a gentleman, and kept talking as they struggled up to the highest point in their immediate vicinity. As he spoke, he also inserted a finger into Robin's anus.

Twisted it.

Listened to her pathetic mewing as he rubbed himself through his expensive pantaloons.

"I did all this for you, dear Robin. And not just because I'm in love," he gestured vaguely towards their surroundings. "I mean, well, not just because you look a lot like her."

He sighed.

"Nana."

Those two syllables meant everything to both of them--

--but for different reasons.

He asked just then: "Are you sure you're not sisters?"

He didn't wait for her answer, and she wasn't going to give him one.

Robin shook her ass, moaning in time with the penetrations in her anus. Meanwhile, the Daimyo continued speaking.

"They gave her to me and I had to give her away and even though I really, really didn't want to, you can't deny it was a good deal in the end. Because they got the Missive back. It was being delivered to--"

A pause.

"--well, I can't tell you that. But it's important. Powerful. Truth to be told even I don't know exactly what it is, only that it is--and has been--the ruin of worlds before. No wonder they had to get it back. No wonder when I delivered, they made me a Daimyo. To become a Daimyo, sweet Robin, you give up your life, your name. Your everything. I was once a mere mortal called Shin-bonbon, but you're not supposed to call me that anymore. Nobody is. I am today, Daimyo Judicious, named for my wisdom and good judgement in all things practical."

He swept a hand over their surroundings.

"Death and ruin for miles around. A great fixer-upper if I ever saw one, right, my pet?"

Robin couldn't actually see much of anything right now.

As soon as they reached the top of the hill, he had pushed her down to her knees and she had taken his penis into her mouth. She was sucking heartily, her bared knees colored by ash and her prominent buttocks pushing out of the folds of her translucent wedding dress. She saw only his crotch, his tangle of dark wiry pubic hair that he shoved into her face on every intake of breath. She ran her tongue along his dick sloppily, even while drooling saliva into the ground between the two of them.

Robin's carefully manicured fingernails dug into the dirt. It didn't feel like dirt. Rather, it felt like fragments, coarse powder that might have once been human bone. Robin breathed in through her nose, and smelled what she imagined was a huge open-air crematorium which had once been a country.

That's when she heard the flute.

High-high-low; A-B-C#

"What the hell is that?" Daimyo Judicious heard it too. He looked around, confused. The notes continued.

Low-high-low. B-D-B(flat)

Now, Robin also stopped sucking. She let his cock fall from her mouth with a final slurp, and hurriedly wiped cum and saliva from her mouth. The kunoichi's eyes were fixed upon the carriage they had come in--

--and the footmen standing beside.

All twelve of them.

Suddenly as still as statues.

Even as the sad, melodious notes floated over them.

As one, they turned.

It was abrupt, with their bodies still facing one way, but their heads rotating in unison towards the hill.

Some were not even facing the right way, and Robin heard the distant crack of snapping necks. Her eyes widened. Beside her, Daimyo Judicious had also caught on.

He screamed.

The high-pitched cry shrilled into the air; and once again, there was no reply. The sky kept its silence over this part of the world. Below it, the footmen moved as one.

They came up the hill in a mad, silent scramble. Limbs flailed awkwardly, none making cries of battle. Some slipped and fell, but others just climbed over them. One was running with an awkward limp. He had twisted his own ankle to the point of breaking; and yet, he still persisted, clambering at the head of the throng before reaching back into his pocket.

Removing his pistol.

Bang!

The gun went off, but the bullet flew into the silent sky. A trail of blood followed, spraying from the whole arm that had been sliced cleanly from the shoulder. It took with it the head of its owner, with the hand at the end of the severed body part still clutching the pistol. Robin followed the red, dripping arc through the air with her flashing, narrowed eyes.

She reached up. The spinning shuriken--a massive four-pointed cross that was as big as a wagon wheel--flew back into her hand as if it had a mind of its own.

Somewhere behind her, Daimyo Judicious kept screaming.

Robin was still in her wedding dress; and yet, she was no longer a bride. She was also no longer a concubine, or even a seamstress turned the Daimyo's mistress and sex slave. The sheer fabric of her dress fluttered when she kicked off her impossibly high heels, and Robin's toes dug into dead ash. She was already forming signs with her free hand as she whispered the magical words.

Fire bloomed to life. Staccato explosions formed a circle with Robin and the Daimyo in the center. The flames were orange and red, burning impossibly bright even at high noon. Their licking tongues illuminated the young woman's features, throwing her entire body into an iridescent glow.

Her big, bouncing tits.

Her wide, round hips.

Her long, shapely legs.

The sign Robin held at the ends of her chive-like fingertips, which maintained the spell that held the footmen at bay--

--or not!

Robin's eyes widened in surprise. The footmen came up to the top of the hill and stepped through the fire. They made no noise, no complaints even as the skin melted off their muscles. Their clothes went up and so did the crackling flesh beneath. What came through after were burning, blackened blisters that could not be rightfully called human.

Oddly appropriate, and yet, the writhing mass persisted.

Hands.

Feet.

Tangles of broken, smoking limbs now reaching for their targets at the center of the fiery circle.

The ninjitsu fire burned hotter than you can imagine, but these--things--soldiered on regardless. Where one fell, another paused to prop him up on a broken, flaming shoulder. They marched awkwardly forward, but at great speed, picking up others whose physical bodies have given out until what was coming at Robin resembled a rolling wall of heads, hands and feet. A living, grotesque monster, with grafted limbs and melted faces. Yet, something that was nonetheless sentient enough--and reasonable enough--to use every weapon they had at their disposal.

More pistols.

Not all fired properly after having coming through Robin's summoned flames. One pistol exploded, taking with it the arm of the owner. He didn't care. The rest of the bullets--flying close enough to present a danger to Robin or the Daimyo--were deflected with screeching metallic whines off the blades of her massive shuriken.

Then, they closed in.

One arm reached out, holding a saber. Its blade was already tempered red by Robin's conjured inferno. It swung, and Robin shifted, catching the blade on the shuriken's handle. She pivoted with her bared, white ass swirling with a heavy, meaty bounce as she sheared off that hand at the wrist. The saber fell away, and Robin reached into her hair.

A single pluck, and one long strand became a gleaming wire pulled taut at her fingertips. It was so thin that the only evidence of its existence was the flicker of light it made when she whipped it over the mass of bodies before her.

Blood spilled over the grey ground where it sliced through bone and flesh. Robin's breasts jiggled when she landed in a crouch. Her hardened nipples betrayed her worry as the pile of bodies continued on. Somewhere nearby, the Daimyo was still screaming.

And--

--the flute was still playing!

High-low-high; A-B-C-D sharps and flats and lost and sad and--

So long as the notes continued, the monster(s) kept coming.

Robin knew nothing short of utter dismemberment would work, and dicing the fleshy creature before her into powder was not feasible.

Unless--

The kunoichi bit her lower lip. She spat the blood into her palm and used her other hand to sketch some crude symbols over her arm. Then, Robin whipped her shuriken around to stave off the grasping hands all around her.

She knelt, buttocks fully protruding from her white, translucent dress. The young woman's shapely ass formed a heavy seat, with the crack of her butt fully parted, revealing her opened, puckered anus from which a trail of sperm dribbled down to her pussy. There, the lips were also spread open, revealing the moist, pink center within. The whole, soft mound was covered by wiry, dark hairs, quivering with the energy of the spell as it was cast.

The ground shook.

Robin's ass tremored pleasantly with it.

The earthquake was concentrated, and very carefully aimed. It blossomed out from where the kunoichi's hands pressed into the ash, in a straight line towards the bottom of the hill. There, blackened woods shook, and branches rattled like brittle fingers. Some broke. A scream followed.

The terrified cry was abruptly cut off--in time with the music; and the flute suddenly stopped playing.

The bodies stopped moving.

Robin breathed heavily when she stood up. Her big breasts bounced in the corset, and her veil was matted to her forehead with sweat. She looked back at Daimyo Judicious, who was blubbering incoherently in a pile of his own excrement.

He had shit his pants, and she didn't bother cleaning him up.

Robin eventually dragged him down the hill without hearing his ragged protests. Along the way, they stopped at the severed head, shoulder and one limp arm of the first footman Robin had killed. She bent down. Gave him a full, unobstructed view of her wriggling ass as she looked over the gruesome disconnected body parts.

All others had been burned when coming through the circle of fire, and this severed piece of flesh was now Robin's only clue to what had happened. She bent lower, her full, white buttocks pushing higher with the dark lips of her pussy parting under a cloudless sky. Her pink clit tremored inside the folds of her labia, and Robin ran her fingers along the head's face. She found was she was looking for easily enough.

Stitches too small so as to be almost invisible, made with threads the color of human flesh. She slipped her finger into a seam, and pulled.

Daimyo Judicious screamed.

He probably pissed himself further, but Robin nodded with satisfaction looking upon a face she did not recognize.

Nobody would have recognized him.

Eyes stitched shut, along with the mouth. The nose had been cut off, leaving only holes on a blank, emotionless face. Once, this might have been a person, but abducted and tortured and eventually broken until it would serve as a (barely) sentient vessel for assassination. You first sought out the target, then found someone close to them and killed them quietly. Then, you peeled off their face, embroidering it onto one of these creatures.

The deception can't be maintained for long. Thus, your timing would have to be exact. A trigger (in this case, the sad tune from the flute) and suddenly the disguised creature goes wild. It does not stop until everyone nearby is dead; and it is trained to be impervious to pain, ignoring injury to the extent that willing human flesh will allow.

It is a blunt tool. One commonly used by assassin's who have mastered this dark art. These killers worked from a distance, almost always without risking their own lives in the process.

Robin looked back at the smoldering hill.

A handful of footmen, all of which had apparently been replaced by these pathetic, yet dangerous monsters. The Daimyo had insisted they were well guarded when they came to this country. It was small, he had told her, and landlocked. The country was located practically right next to the Capital; and the place supposed to be empty. Dead. Wholly theirs.