The Duchess' Mother Ch. 6.5

CW: Be sure to check the tags on this one, it won't be for everyone. Additional themes of abuse and dubious consent.

CHAPTER 6.5

CHAPTER 6.5

Well, that changed things.

Neradine watched the flame rage against the darkening sky. At first she thought it a convenient act of arson like the rest of Old Teufelhof, but when the apostate's cathedral still stood come dusk despite a roaring inferno engulfing its steeple, Nera knew that that was no ordinary fire. The altar had been visited and only one person could be responsible. Daddy would not be pleased.

Leaning back against the alley wall, she drew a long, slender pipe from her coat pocket and brought it to her lips. Nera circled the bowl's rim with a red-hot fingertip until the faerium inside combusted. With eyes closed she breathed, filled her lungs until the idea of that conversation seemed a touch less unpleasant, then exhaled. Daddy could wait. Not long--she didn't need him angrier than usual--but long enough to dull the pain of what was certainly coming.

In, out. The edges of vision started to blur.

Greater flame, greater claim... What a fucking joke. An adage old as the city itself and just as rotten. Two hundred years ago the fire burned bright for Duke Ralos Hraalo; how did he exercise his 'great' claim? By raping and pillaging neighboring counties until a viper found its way into his bed. Or Duchess Iridia Glaston, who lost her head spilling secrets to a wandering merchant. Records described her flame as shaming the sun and singeing the moon, so what went wrong? What went wrong with any of the other claimants whose glory was prophesied in fire only to be snuffed unceremoniously? Was this time supposed to be different? Was the sad little girl on the hill to somehow do better?

In, out. In, out... The tension in Nera's muscles began to loosen.

What was so special about her, anyway? The 'duchess' could hardly string together a sentence. She wasn't imposing, she didn't seem particularly smart, nobody liked her--Hells, how could anyone be falling for that shit? Yet just today Nera had overheard four different folk on the street talking abouthope.Ridiculous.

And what did she have that Neradine didn't? What made Adrienne so perfect, so appealing, so--

In, out. In, out...

In.

Out.

Nera sighed as the faerium's effects took hold. Shapes in her periphery stretched and pulled away, the ground teetered, and colors deepened. More importantly, the urge fuck that posh bitch until the life left her eyes dissipated. Taking a final drag, she stowed the pipe and stepped out from the alley. Enough time-wasting. The sooner she got moving, the sooner things would change.

"Light?"

Nera turned toward the voice, seeing a scruffy suited man walking closer with cigar in hand. She asked, "Pardon?"

"Do you have a light?"

"No. Sorry."

As she turned to leave, the man said, "Really? Didn't I see you smoking?"

"You did not."

"You sure?"

"I am," Nera replied, offering a wry smile.

"But--"

"Fuckin' Hells, fine! You want a light?" She snatched the cigar, gripped it tight and incinerated the thing with a quick ignition from her palm. Pouring it back into his cupped hand, she said, "There. Lit."

Ash slipped between his fingers like fine sand. He shuffled away a few seconds later, mumbling quietly, leaving Nera alone to continue on her way toward the last thing she wanted to do tonight.

Even if things needed to change--and theydesperatelydid--every step took a bit more effort than the last. The parts of her most prone to abuse were already aching. Her mind was already racing to predict what he'd say and how she'd respond. Nera imagined what he'd want and how much she'd give, as if 'everything' wasn't the obvious answer to both. She needed to do ruminate, though. What went on in her head was something only she controlled; such things were precious. Constantly running through every possible scenario didn't make Neradine happy, but it did keep her feet moving.

And hey, maybe Daddy wouldn't be mad? Maybe.

She arrived much too soon. Stopping at an unremarkable street corner in a lonely part of town, Nera looked up. A sign reading 'Llirasie's Limbo' hung overhead, above a solid wooden door leading into the seamiest brothel Teufelhof had to offer. The smell of sweat and cheap wine wafted from within. She wrinkled her nose, nudged the door open and stepped inside.

Fading lights, silk upon the walls. Withering plants in pots sat atop every table and the floor was covered in a patchwork of rugs, blankets and cushions stained by countless mystery liquids. Scarcely dressed women waded through a sea of drunken men, guiding some to private rooms behind tattered curtains while others were led deeper. Nera hastened to the bar. The less time she spent here, the less likely some bullheaded pig tried to grope her tits. She'd boiled the skin off the last man to try; he still lay bandaged head-to-toe in the nearest almshouse. Madame Llirasie hadn't appreciated that.

Speaking of...

"Hey, Llir," she said, sliding into an open seat between a passed-out guardsman and a clergyman still clad in holy garb.

The woman behind the bar stood tall and thin with a sternly distinguished cut to her face. Her light brown hair was an intricately woven masterpiece of twists, curls, and braids more fitting for a succubus than a human. She didn't look up, simply responding, "Nera."

"My father's here, yeah?"

"He is."

Nera swallowed, nodded.

"Though, be warned," the Madame added. "He is in quite a foul mood."

Another nod. At least she didn't have to wonder. "Take me to him?"

"Of course."

Llirasie beckoned for Nera to follow, then unlocked and led her through a door behind the bar. Beyond it stretched a narrow corridor awash in red light that bled in from the far end. The farther they walked, the more the air reeked of depravity. The distinct scents of blood and semen began to mingle with others. Soon, the sound of voices behind faded. New sounds arose from ahead--moans, grunts, skin slapping against skin, people coughing and crying and murmuring too low to make out. If Nera didn't know better, she would have thought they were descending into the Hells themselves.

Llirasie stopped. She gestured toward the light, saying, "Have fun. And do check on my girls, if you would? They've been in there a while."

Nera breathed, stepping into the crimson glow.

'The Second Circle.' If Llirasie's Limbo was seedy, then this place was corrupted beyond redemption. The floor was alive with an orgy of flesh. Naked bodies lay tangled wall to wall, engaged in unrepentant carnal pleasuretaking. One could hardly cross the room without stepping on someone's genitals or in a puddle of bodily fluids. Nera grimaced and kept her eyes up, carefully maneuvering to a door on the opposite wall.

She wasn't a prude. Sex had defined much of her life, but this? This sex without passion, without emotion? These people had no other intentions than to fuck or be fucked, to come on or in whoever they pleased. She doubted any of them knew a single one of their partners' names. They didn't care for each other. They definitely didn'tloveeach other. What was the point?

For fun, Daddy might say. Neradine never saw the fun in railing one stranger's asshole while another came on her face then getting up and pretending it never happened. Sex should be more than that. That didn't have to mean love, of course--Nera despised the one person she most wanted to pump full of seed. But even hate was better than dull, emotionless fornication. Hate meant something. All this meant nothing at all.

Hells, she should have smoked more.

Outside the door to her father's chamber, Nera hesitated. She always did. There was never any telling what might be on the other side, though neither could she pretend that it even mattered. Daddy's appetites had long since ceased to surprise her. They might arouse, disgust, frighten or enthrall her, but not surprise. Straightening her hair and corset with antsy fingers, Nera mouthed a prayer to the Great Betrayer and pushed the door open.

Familiar scents welcomed her in: sweat, cum and brimstone, engulfing her like a warm blanket sent from home. The sounds of the orgy behind vanished as the door shut. In the silence, Nera heard only the rhythmic creaking of wood and a crackling fire. The flame itself was dying, its glow reflecting off fine velvets, delicate filigrees and polished wood.

Six naked women were scattered throughout.

Two knelt by the fireplace, tending a third who sat curled up in a massive upholstered chair; her soft body looked purpled with bruises. Two more cuddled together on a wildebeest-hide rug below the foot of the bed, one older, one younger, similar face and body. They could be mother and daughter; Daddy liked that kind of thing. The elder's hand played between the younger's thighs.

The last lay limp on the bed. Her body jerked in time with the rough, rhythmic thrusts of a much larger figure, shrouded in shadow and obscured by half-drawn canopy curtains. Only Daddy's long, curling horns and his hands gripping her waist were visible. The rest was silhouetted by firelight. For a moment, Nera watched the outline of his considerable length ruining the fragile thing beneath him. The poor girl looked scarcely conscious.

Assuming she was evenalive.

Clearing her throat, Nera said, "Father."

Daddy's thrusts slowed without stopping.

She continued hesitantly. "You wanted to--"

"Who is this wretched whore," he interjected, his deep and silken voice filling the quiet room with ease, "who speaks to me as a daughter?"

Nera fell silent. He didn't mean that, of course, but it stung every time. She should have known better than to enter his room still disguised as a common barmaid, though. Daddy hated when she changed her appearance. Closing her eyes, Neradine focused upon her own body. Gradually and in a whirl of embers the guise began to slip, false features disintegrating until she'd returned to herself. Blonde hair became red, green eyes gold; ram-like horns appeared on her head and bestial hooves replaced legs and feet. Once-ivory skin turned ashen pale.

"Ah, my Neradine..." He plunged himself deep into the motionless woman, releasing powerfully enough that Nera heard each individual spurt of cum erupting from his cock. She imagined his testicles tightening, her insides painted white with hot, thick semen. Then he started thrusting again as though fully refreshed. "Come, darling. Sit with me."

She approached warily. Daddy didn'tsoundangry, but Nera had misread his emotions plenty of times. Crawling up the foot of the bed, she sat sideways beside his current plaything and looked up. Only his slitted, gleaming eyes were clearly visible. The rest of his devilish form loomed over her, a dark and terrible beauty encased by an outline of dim firelight.

"I met her," Nera eventually said.

"And?"

She shrugged. "Didn't bite."

A quiet fury flamed in those eyes. He punctuated his displeasure with one brutally rough thrust, then filled the woman's ravaged cunt a second time, asking, "Is that so?"

"Ain't done tryin', don't worry. Can't say I get why you're so obsessed with her, though."

"Is it 'obsession'," he growled, "to want that which is rightfully mine?"

"Maybe? Depends on what you do to get it, I think. And, well..." She grinned, batted her lashes whilst toying with the ties of her bodice. "Whether you already got something better waitin' back home."

He snorted.

Neradine rolled her eyes. Adrienne this, Adrienne that--that damned duchess was all Daddy thought about anymore. Now with the flame raging over the cathedral, it looked even less likely he'd ever see what was right in front of him--a daughter actually worthy of his love rather than some do-nothing wastrel who lived in a palace.

But she trusted him still. There wasn't any other choice, really.

Sighing, Nera busied her restless hands braiding the unconscious girl's auburn hair. "You're not as upset as I expected."

"Why should I be?" His hips started moving yet again. "Just because my empty-headed daughter has managed to fail me once more?"

"Failed? But--"

"Would you disagree?"

"I'm not--"

He lifted the girl's legs, folding her in half for better access. The bed creaked even louder. "What were the words you used, hm?"

"What do you mean?" Nera asked, frowning.

"She'd be wrapped around your finger, I believe you said. So tell me, Neradine: is she?"

"I don't--"

"Of course you don't," Daddy said. His rutting grew faster, more frenzied. "Because that's what you are, isn't it? Just a disappointing litany of don'ts, won'ts, and can'ts."

Her heart ached, but again Nera assured herself he didn't mean it. That's just how he was, sometimes, even if every day that fact pained her more. She sat up, saying, "You agreed to let me try--"

"I did. Now the flame is lit and I'm not one step closer to my prize."

"It's been two days, I just need--"

"Time?" he snapped. "You--"

"Fuckin' shit, let me finish a goddamn sentence!"

A heavy silence permeated the room.

She'd fucked up. Daddy stood, lifted the limp fuckdoll still impaled on his dick, and ejaculated a third time before dropping her callously on the floor. A groan revealed that she lived, at least. Neradine watched as his towering form rounded to the foot of the bed. She flinched at the click of his hooves on wood, trembled at the full sight of the barbed, still-eract phallus that created her.

He stopped before her. Behind him, the other women hurriedly carried their discarded sixth to safety by the fireplace. Reaching out a clawed hand to trace the veins in Nera's neck, Daddy said, "Speak, then, my darling."

"I-- I just need a little more time."

He waited.

"A day or two, that's all," she added, swallowing hard. "Then she'll be yours."

Still, he said nothing. Daddy continued dragging his nails over bare, tender skin until finally he asked, "Are you finished?"

"W-well... yeah. Two days. Three at most. I'm telling you, this will work."

His fingers wandered lower, dallied over her heart; Nera's pulse quickened. Slipping his hand into her coat, he withdrew the faerium pipe stowed within. The contents combusted of their own accord. In that flicker of light Nera saw the look on her father's face--the same he wore whenever she walked on terribly thin ice, promising swift and degrading retribution should her tongue settle on the wrong words.

A thick rope of cum dripped onto Nera's hooves as Daddy stepped closer. "Do you value our time, Neradine?"

"Of course I do," she replied. "You know I do."

"Then perhaps you can explain," he said, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly around her neck, "why you have done nothing but waste it since we got here."

"Huh? I've been tryin' to help!"

His fingers curled, nails beginning to draw blood.

Despite how close to the edge she stood, anger flared in Nera's heart. Everything she'd ever done was in service to him. Every step she took, every breath she drew--every moment of life lived she dedicated to her father and this was how he acknowledged it? Daddy didn't need to thank her; she knew well what his gratitude looked like, but this wasn't it.

And it was all that duchess' fault. Though reason begged Nera to keep her mouth shut, instinct and indignation lit too bright a fire for her to bottle up and bury. "Well I'm sorry for wastin' a few of your precious days!" she cried, sitting upright. "There! Now come on--your turn. Ain't like you haven't wasted your fair share."

The pipe came slowly away from his face. He exhaled a hot, bitter cloud of smoke that mussed Nera's senses, stepping closer again until his swollen cockhead oozed fresh precum onto her thigh. Leaning forward, "Excuse me?"

Nera swallowed, lifted her chin to look anywhere else. Now she'dreallyfucked up. She stammered, "N-nothing. I didn't mean anythin' by it."

"No no, you've something to say. Say it."

"I don't. I misspoke, papa, I--"

"Say. It."

Fuck it. Neradine's fate for the night was already sealed. Might as well let him know exactly how she felt, right? Trying to ignore the monstrous shaft so threateningly near, she crossed her arms and defiantly met his eye, saying, "Two fuckin' decades. Could'a spent that time here--could'a spent ithappy--but instead we threw away twenty-somethin' years living through Hell becauseyouwere too much of a goddamn pussy to light that--"

Daddy's hand clamped shut. Her voice cut off, then breath. Stars burst across her vision. One second Nera sat on the bed; the next, she dangled in his grip, hauled into the air like she weighed nothing at all. She scratched at his wrist, kicked, flailed for purchase with a tail flicking like mad behind her back, but it didn't matter.

A second ago, she'd felt so brave. How quickly he could change that...

Her father's dominance was effortless. Whatever confidence she'd had was reduced to ash, gone up with the suffocating heat of the smoke on his breath. She felt the weight of his gaze, crushing. The sting of his claws breaking skin. The presence of his length against her abdomen, then the promise of what came next. It settled low and heavy in her gut. The pain of it already radiated, just lower. Nera whimpered. This was why she tried so hard to sedate herself--why she smothered her fiery personality with narcotics or booze before daring to face him, lest she spark the tinderbox he'd become.

Because as hot as his passion burned when they fucked, his rage burned hotter.

"You grow too bold, daughter," Daddy said. His free hand stroked up the curve of her hip, her waist, coming to rest between her breasts. He swiped down again, one claw raking through the ties that held her bodice together and exposing her chest.

Nera tried in vain to loosen the grip on her throat. Through choked gasps, "W-Wait... p-p-please..."

"Wait, wait, wait--is that all you ever want of me? I tire of waiting, Neradine."

"B-But--"

"And I tire of your excuses," he hissed, squeezing tighter.

"B-Bir-- Birth-- day..."

Daddy's eyes narrowed. "What are you babbling about?"

"B-B-B... Birth--" Just before consciousness fully slipped, Nera felt her back hit the bed. Air flooded her lungs. She massaged her throat and looked at the blurry, shadowed shape looming over her. "It's almost my birthday!"

"And?"

"You said you'd try to be gentler around my birthday. Remember?"

He drew nearer. "I do."

"A-And, uh... It's just a couple weeks away."

Daddy stood there silently. His drooling cock twitched over Nera's lap.

"So, um..." She swallowed, sat up cautiously. "I should probably go--"

He dragged her closer by the fetlocks. Nera yelped. Legs held apart, skirt bunched at her hips, panties torn off by her father's hands--she grit her teeth, drew a breath and held it. Think warm thoughts, she told herself. Imagine a life far from Hell. A life without ever hearing Adrienne's name again. A life with her adoring papa, finally happy and finally safe.

Daddy pinned her to the bed.

She pictured her hand on his, a ring on her finger and a beautiful dress flowing around her hooves. He'd tell her how stunning she is, how funny and sweet and so, so much better than that girl on the hill. She'd giggle and blush and take his hand as he led her to bed, promising to show her the magic of a father's unabashed love. After that, who knows? A honeymoon? A baby?

Nera felt the fat, flared head of Daddy's penis nudging her scrotum aside. It pressed against her clenched asshole.

Breathe. Breathe...

At least he always gave her time to adjust, rather than simply--

He hilted himself in one thrust. A haggard howl spilled from Nera's mouth. Her back arched, limbs scrabbling uselessly against the bedsheets. A slow retreat, barbs hooked and scraped her inner walls. In again, harder. Out, then in. His balls slapped Nera's ass with every thrust. Her own rested atop his pistoning shaft while her cock stood erect, precum beading at the tip.