[m] libido fascination, too much oral defication

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

(700+) For Calypso ~ midday, maybe dusk by the time Caly wakes up. Izual's pic there, bc he's the star of the show >>>>>

She squealed a little when he hit her hard in the back of the head. She squealed and then she fell flat on her face like a ton of bricks. Izual looked around for trouble, but there was no one. No one within a good radius, anyway, that would interfere. Roughly, he picked her up off of the floor, threw her over his shoulder, and ducked into the cover of the trees until he would reach Halifax.

She was by herself in a clearing when he found her. There was a scent of another, but he was too far away to hear what he had planned to do. She spoke sweetly to him, and it didn’t seem that she saw the darkness that hid behind his pumpkin-colored eyes. Izual carried the conversation for a while, carefully listening to the faint steps of the other in the distance. It seemed they were somewhere hunting, salvaging whatever food he could find out here. He wasn’t too worried about the female in the clearing, and she didn’t seem too worried for her safety.

That was okay.

Izual wasn’t too worried for her safety either. He could’ve killed her with the heavy blow of his fist and it wouldn’t have bothered him any. However, he didn’t and that helped to keep his mood chipper. And as he carried her through the woods, he thought of all the things he could do with his new pet once he got her home, bound and put on display for only him. Lucky for him, Belial’s habitual hobbies always kept the house stocked with fun knives that he itched to see and use. He wanted to know how well they worked on flesh and how much blood they procured. Belial seemed to have a favorite, a – what was it called?

A scalpel.

It cut so clean, so precise. It must have been used by human serial killers of their time. This “scalpel” must have made their job so much easier, so much more enjoyable. Izual longed to use it on the woman slung over his shoulder. But patience was virtue, and he needed to prep her before he did anything crazy with the scalpel.

Once he reached the house in Spring Heights, he took the girl down to the basement. Belial hadn’t been there when he first came, but his darkling brother came shortly after. Izual had just finished binding her hands when Belial came down the stairs. The stairs barely squeaked when Belial was descending them because he barely weighed anything himself. Izual sometimes wondered how Belial accomplished all the killings he did with no strength or skill…

”What are you doing? Where’d you get her?” Belial inquired, seeing the unconscious girl strapped to the chair, her hair spread out all over the chair, spilling over and even some in her face. She was breathing, but she didn’t look like she’d wake up any time soon.

”Having fun,” Izual answered with a wide grin on his face. If the girl had been conscious to see it, she would have feared her life. Seeing Belial linger, Izual growled, ”No, brother, I don’t need help.”

”I wasn’t offering it,” Belial snapped back, seeing that Izual wanted him to leave. ”But I do want to watch.” The thinner Massacre came in, brushed passed his brother (whose eyes followed him like a hawk) and sat down at the back of the basement, in the dark, where he was out of the way and for now, unseen.

”As you wish,” Izual responded, not intending to hold back even if his privacy has been breached. He then approached the side of the chair, lowered his head and began to savagely kiss the girl’s neck, nipping roughly and kissing lavishly. The girl’s bound hand hung loosely beside his balls, but for now, he paid that no mind. Retracting, he reached for the girl’s face and gripped it roughly in his large hand. ”Wake up, bitch,” he growled by her ear. When she didn’t respond, he slapped her hard, and again if she still didn’t respond after that. In between slaps, though, he dipped his head to roughly kiss his wench; and this pattern continued until she stirred.

((Hope this is okay. So stuck with the strapped to the chair part because it mentions one of the bros looking at her in the chair....))

Calypso drifted, light and airy, memories flitted through her head, her thought processes scattered and jumbled. A dull ache lit at the back of her head like wildfire and her subconscious shied away from it, cowering back in the safer parts of herself- becoming lost in thoughts and daydreams of moments passed as the present continued around her...

Her hair had grown long over the weeks, she hadn't cut it in a long while; the last of the summer days turning to fall and the air held a colder bite than before and her coat growing a bit thicker and hair faster as a result. She had never really ever allowed it to grow much and after much internal debate she had decided it was time to let it be. It had grown to the spot between her shoulder blades, long and thick auburn waves that sprouted from silvery gray fur, streaked with lighter chestnut and hazel highlights. She rather enjoyed her hair and had procured a crude brush with which to tame her new locks with from an old crone at the trader's outpost...

She was dimly aware of herself being jolted about, something biting and harsh dug into her wrists, entrapping her. Voices, muffled and swimming spoke around her, over her. Rough and masculine... Who were they and where was she?

A sensation touched her neck, wet and sloppy. Her mind drifted to Marin. The nom-Luperci would sometimes wake her up with a lick on her neck or forehead, a strange tradition that had begun since they were children, oddly intimate to outward viewers and to familial for a slave to be doing to their master, but they didn't care. They had a bond that surpassed blood, and inspire of both their statuses they had grown to be brother and sister in their own way. Her and Marin hadn't been getting along lately though. The black furred wolf taking to the forests alone more often than not and leaving Calypso behind, only to return with food but nor words to exchange. The little she had gotten him to talk he brushed her off saying she was too reckless, would get herself killed or worse with her behavior. This had blown up into a full scale fight that had erupted into them splitting ways for the day to cool off. That's when the Luperci had showed up, all smiles and smooth talking-

Calypso's head snapped to the side, a voice yelling loudly next to her, before lips connected with hers, the pattern repeating as the wolfdog attempted to open her eyes, her vision rolling in and out of focus. Her breathing sped up as she attempted to pull her arms up to push away her attacker but she was met with the harsh bite of rope and the ominous creaking of unforgiving wood. She whined low in her throat, a keen borne of fear and confusion as she eyed the male attacking her, the one who had forced himself upon her with his lips as if she was some common whore. Her eyes blown wide as she recognized him as the Luperci she had met in the forest, kind smiles and sultry words now replaced with harsh growls and demonic grins. She attempted to speak, to question him, but her voice caught in her throat, a tangible lump that gagged her and she dry heaved as her stomach seemed to fall out from under her. An aching cold rush of tingling panic ripped up her spine and into her fingertips, bouncing back and forth in steadily increasing waves as she pulled at her restraints and tried in vain to lean away from her assailant, her teeth bared and ears pinned backed whilst a pitiful growl escaped her throat, borne more out of desperation than actual anger or intimidation...

(500+) Left it kinda open-ended at the end so you can decide where you want some of her injuries/scars :)

Fortunately for Calypso, it didn’t take long for Izual to wake her. Belial watched as his brother gripped her face and slapped her until she rose to consciousness. Instead of waking up groggy like most of his charges did, Calypso woke up thrashing in the chair. Izual snarled as she coughed in his face, and he gripped her chin harshly and angled her face to look at him, despite her struggling. ”You think its ok to cough in my face?” he snarled, throwing her head back down when he was done. It didn’t matter - she was awake and that was what mattered. ”It’s good that you’re finally awake… Now we can have some fun,” he sneered, wandering over to the table where all Belial’s knives were laid out. He wiggled his fingers as he searched for the scal — whatever it was called!

It was thin with a handle, right? There were many knives here, but he didn't see the one he searched for. ”Belial… Where’s that skinny knife with the handle that humans used?” he asked, looking up and cocking an ear back to listen to Calypso struggle.

”A scalpel? You don’t want to use that… You’ll kill her,” Belial answered, rising from his seat. He knew the intentions of his brother would eventually end in the girl’s death, but until then, he supposed Izual would demand the knife.

”Yes I do,” Izual growled, seeing Belial get up.

Belial came over and despite seeing the thing lying right in the middle of the table in front of him, sifted through the knives, looked under the table and shook his head. ”Maybe I left it in Inferni… It’s not here.”

Shaking his head, ”Why would it be there?” He glared hard at Belial for a moment, before looking down at the laid out bunch of knives. ”I guess I’ll have to use this one then,” Izual said, picking the one in the middle, the scalpel, anyway. Belial retreated to his seat in the dark and Izual returned to Calypso.

”Now, my pretty. Where doesn’t it hurt?” he cackled, tracing the middle of her abdomen gently with the back of the blade, not cutting the skin yet. He paused, and turned to look over his shoulder, ”Hey, Belial, you got any fucked up symbols we can carve into this bitch?”

A few symbols came to mind, but Belial resorted to question, ”Why would you want to mark her with demonic symbols?”

”Why not? I can’t think of anything at the moment. Can you?”

Belial rose from his seat again and joined Izual. Sure, he could think of a few, but did he want to tell Izual, or show Izual, in fear that this will come back to haunt him later? ”May I?” he asked, taking the scalpel and picking a thin-haired spot on the girl’s lower abdomen for her new scar. Izual used his strength to pin the woman down, keeping her as still as possible even as she fought against him. Carefully, Belial etched the curves and lines into her skin - not too deep, but deep enough for the scar to heal to be dark. He drew the summoning symbol for Phaleg, the Demon of Discontent, which he was sure the woman would feel in the hours to come while under Izual’s care. Handing the scalpel back to Izual, the taller Massacre looked ecstatic.

”Thank you, brother,” he spoke through his toothy grin. The messy lines and curves bubbled over with blood for the moment, and it was her first wound to remember them by.

From there, Izual traced some gentle, some not so gentle lines into other parts of her body, testing which spots seemed to make her scream the most and which spots were a waste of his time…

She cringed when he had gripped her face harshly, his fingers digging into her muzzle with a harsh ferocity. She hadn't meant to cough. It was a reflex, but somewhere in her mind she knew this guy didn't give a fuck about that. It was just an excuse to hurt her. That terrified her. Psychopaths and sociopaths were all dangerous people to deal with, the former more so than the latter. And she had a sinking feeling that the one who claimed to have reign over her, the muscly one of the two, was definitely a psychopath.
She pulled at her restraints and grit her teeth, eyes rolling frantically looking for an escape or someway out of this situation. The two Lupercis were looking over the instruments that lay out on a table, contemplating her torture as if they were simply picking out wares in a market. The second one, the psycho's brother or friend she presumed, had surprised her. He was smaller and a bit more controlled, but violent all the same. She definitely wouldn't have been wary of him if she had met him alone. The larger one not so much. But she had been naive and stupid, trusting him and allowing him to get the better of her him despite him being larger and obviously unhinged, something that Marin said she did quite a lot. She was too trusting of others, too accepting, too forgiving. She choked- Oh gods Marin. What must he think? He must be beating himself up over not staying with me just because of one little spat!, she thought frantically, watching out of the corner of her eye as the two coyotes finally brandished their weapon of choice. 'If I ever get out of this', she promised internally, 'I swear I'll listen to everything you say Marin, just please, please find me! Get me out of this! I-I don't want to die... Please Gods I wanna live...' She thought as the larger brother dragged the back of the across her fur. She shuddered at the cold metallic feel of it, knowing that if he simply flipped it over it would open up a world of pain.
The larger one called his smaller companion over and talked over her as if she was some stupid art piece they were working in together, a mindless slab of meat for them to do with as they pleased. She clenched her hands into fists, her toes curling as she tried to push away from the smaller one who had begun to descend upon her lower stomach, near her left hip. The blade made contact, at first there was a simple tug and then the skin gave with a simple pull, but it quickly exploded into strings of wildfire that danced across her nerves. She yelped, keening loudly, biting her tongue to keep from crying out as the male continued to mar her skin. He finally finished dragging the blade and she sagged with a pant, she could feel blood welling from the pulsing wound at a sluggish pace, slowly dying her grey fur a ruddy brown. She strained to see the damage done, but she could only see a little bit, but from what she could see it was only one symbol. It had felt like a million. Time had dragged on in the single span of a few seconds and the pain had become all that she could feel. She had never experienced torture or the like before. She was pampered and protected. But this, this was hell, Hades torturing table itself for her. For all she knew cutting was as bad as it got.
The two traded the knife off and while they exchanged a few words, confirming her brother theory along the way, she threw her head back slightly and grit her teeth, panting through her nose as the pain from the cut flared and waned away again, adrenaline kicking in along with mild levels of shock and fear. The larger brother, the more sadistic of the two and the one who had brought her into this hell stalked towards her and she would later swear in that moment that she saw the devil in his eyes as he descended upon her with the delicate blade.
She must have zoned out a bit, because she came too minutes later, fur slicked with sweat and chest heaving. Her whole front felt like it was on fire. Like flames were licking at her skin, melting her flesh and flaying it from her bones. Pain danced across her abdomen in an intricate two step that traced precise patterns across her bodice. Flashes of what had occurred flashed across her vision. She remembered seeing the form of the smaller brother hunched over her, tracing painful patterns across her abdomen and lower ribcage. She felt acute pain under her right breast, her left hip, her right side and entire lower abdomen. Her throat was hoarse as well and the taste of copper lay heavy upon her tongue. She faintly recalled yelling and shouting as he had traced over her ribs and right upon her hip, the closer to the bone the cut was, the more the pain... She couldn't see exactly what had been to her, but she felt it and she knew it would scar. Permanent reminders. She felt her eyes tear up. Her beautiful dancer body destroyed, desecrated, ruined by a couple of freaks...

(300+) Feel free to bite him lol

”Do you like his work?” Izual sneered, seeing Calypso weakly lift herself to catch a glimpse of the summoning symbol. He lowered his hand and squeezed the bleeding wound together, feeling the skin already begin to swell. The welling blood was pushed from the wound and now formed a puddle in her fur. Izual licked her blood from his fingers, ”Mmm… Delicious.”

Everytime the gray woman screamed, it was like music to Izual’s ears. It seemed that cuts closer to her bones jerked more of a reaction out of her than those of her fleshier parts. Now that her fur was soaked with deep crimson, dampened with sweat, and her eyes glazed over with panic, Izual paused a moment. That wide, toothy grin still graced his lips and the bloody scalpel was gripped in his hand. ”Having fun yet, Beautiful?” he growled, cupping her face roughly. She wasn’t really beautiful anymore. Most of the front of her coat was soaked with blood, she smelled metallic, and the terror-stricken facial expression she wore didn’t contribute to that beauty factor.

Putting the knife down on a nearby table, little droplets of her blood smattering its surface, Izual advanced on her once more. He gripped her hips tightly and lowered his face to her bloodstained abdomen. Instead of biting her or raping her like she may have expected, he collected her blood with his warm, wet tongue. The smell intoxicated him, made him hungry. He had not said a word about it, and only acted upon it instead. He lapped up some of the pools and licked the rest of them. His efforts had not cleaned her coat, but it removed some of the newer blood and prevented it from further staining her pretty gray fur. While licking, Izual growled some and once he was done, he pulled back entirely with bloodstained lips. ”Mmm… You taste so sweet,” he groaned, turning and cracking his neck. Though, he wondered what else tasted sweet – Izual placed a large hand upon Calypso’s head, and holding it down, he kissed her neck roughly before moving up to her lips. He was so lost in the moment, he forgot that he was unwanted. Though, Izual thought of himself as a god and gods were never rejected... Izual savagely plunged his tongue into her mouth, feeling himself becoming aroused by the action almost immediately.

Pain lanced and danced across her body, a delicate network of spider webs spanned her torso and bit at her resolve to remain silent throughout the ordeal. Bar the noises and screams she had released she had not spoke once since finding herself in the mad brothers clutches. She wanted to say something, anything; plead, break down, scream profanities, yell for help. But, she had this one thing. Her body was not her own any more, but her voice she would keep...

She began to rethink the keeping silent when the crazy Luperci licked her blood off his fingers like it was a delicacy. A candy that mother kept from them unless it was a special occasion. The sick, depraved bastard grabbed her face roughly, his fingers digging into her face with vicious intent. She cringed back, baring her teeth a bit as she attempted to pull away. That glint in his eyes unnerved her, she'd seen it before in the eyes of men who had wanted to hurt her, to use her...

She gasped when he released her face with a sudden jerky movement. Her chest heaved in tandem with her racing heart as she gulped down lungfuls of air. She hadn't realized she had held her breath while the 'malaka' had held her eyes with his. She thought he was going to use the scalpel on her again and she had waited with baited breath, the glint of steel an ominous threat at the corner of her vision. But, he had withdrawn and stalked off, the strangely thin knife in hand. She heard the plink of metal as the madman set the knife on a nearby table. She strained to see if he was grabbing anything new to hurt her with. Her skin prickled in horror and fearful anticipation at the prospect of more pain.

She balked a bit when he turned back empty handed. He stepped back over to her, slotting himself against the table so that he had access to her lower half. She whimpered curling her toes as she pulled at the ankle restraints(?), thinking that he was going to do something to her legs, her toes. The things that made her a dancer. She wouldn't let him take that away from her. She began to speak, voice cracking with disuse as she attempted to plead, to reason with the crazed coyote. Her voice ended in a frightened squeak as he seized her hips with a firm grip. Hands digging relentlessly into her tender over sensitized flesh. She squirmed trying to get out from beneath him, to be rid of the invading touch. His hands seemed to burn searing brands into her very being, fear trickled down her spine and then zapped down it in cold, shuddering waves of panic. She struggled more frantically as he descended upon her his tongue, rough and scratchy, ran across her blood soaked fur and lapped at the fissures in her torso, the weeping valleys that marked through her skin, a reminder of what the depraved beast had done. Keening loudly she pushed her hips up in an attempt to kick at the coyote. She bared her teeth growling weakly in an attempt to ward him off, to stop him, to anything.

He suddenly stopped leaning back and complimenting her blood. Sweet. He said it was sweet. She gagged a bit, eyes rolling back slightly at the sight of blood, her blood, caked on his lips, his teeth. He cracked his neck, a sickening and echoing sound. It made him look crazy. More unstable then before as if it was some neurotic twitch that he suffered from, she shuddered as he leaned back in to her. A hand held her head against the table and she began to panic as his mouth descended upon hers. Her pleas were cut off as his lips ravaged hers. Blue and brown eyes remained open, dilated in fear, rolling in panic as he pushed his tongue insistently into her mouth. She whimpered when the scent of his arousal came to her, the network of cuts marring her torso came into hyperawareness, the tongue exploring her mouth became a knife cutting into her soul. She bit down as hard as she could, clenching her eyes shut and waiting for blood to fill her mouth. She didn't want to have that monster's blood in her mouth, but it was better than his tongue, better than his lips being forced upon hers. She grit her teeth harder ignoring any sensation of flesh grinding between teeth.

((Late. Sorry. *scuttles into corner*))

(500+) Sooo instead of continuing with the cage idea, I decided to maybe just make it more realistic and say that they tied her up instead. So, its pretty much like this. If she shifts, she breaks something. Maybe one more post from you and we could start our next thread ? :)

Despite the obvious pleasure that Izual got from drowning the woman with his tongue, he had not realized the imminent consequences of his actions. The rebellious woman would have no more of his intrusions. Instead of taking the abuse like Izual naively assumed she would, she bit down on his tongue as hard as she could. The pain seared through the organ and a point on his lip and a horrible, strangled yelp emitted from the Massacre’s mouth. Retracting one of his hands, he punched her as hard as he could, repeatedly, until she let go.

Once his tongue was back in his mouth, he backed away from her and began pacing the room, holding his mouth. ”BITCH!” he snarled, feeling the white hot pain when he spoke, and despite everything, tasting the blood in his mouth. Bloody saliva dribbled from his lips, as it hurt to swallow. It hurt to do anything with his mouth, actually. Faint snickering reached his ears and Izual whirled on Belial, hidden in the shadows. ”What the fuck do you think is so funny?” he asked viciously, with a slight slur as he tried to minimize the pain in his mouth.

”You’re an idiot,” Belial answered with a smile. ”You’re lucky she didn’t bite it off.” He received a growl in return, but Belial knew he was right. He didn’t go around manhandling and torturing others and then sticking his tongue into their mouths, which were full of sharp teeth.

Izual turned, ignoring Belial, and approached the chair in which the woman lay. First, he untied her feet only to retie them together with the same rope. Then he moved towards her head, and his hand shot out as he gripped the woman’s throat tightly, intending to choke her while he undid each of her restraints. His anger mixed with his usual strength, and despite her struggles, Izual didn’t have too much difficulty with her as he dragged her from the chair and threw her face down on the basement floor. Planting a foot in the middle of her back, he grabbed each of her arms and pulled them back, tying them to her ankles and completing the hogtie. Then he picked her up from her tied arm and threw her into the corner, out of the way and away from anything that she could use against them.

Izual turned away from her, grabbing the scalpel off of the counter and returning it to its original pile. ”I’m not even in the fucking mood anymore…” Izual grumbled, turning away from the whole situation and climbing the stairs, leaving Belial and the woman left in the room. The scrawnier Massacre brother rose from his seat once the door slammed upstairs, shaking dirt from the old ceiling. Right away, Belial noticed something he forgot – a muzzle.

While it was unlikely that anyone would hear her – still, he wanted to make sure no one would come snooping because they heard a girl screaming for help. Bending over, Belial checked under the metal cart for the rest of the rope he usually kept stashed…