I lost count of my orgasms, each of them seeming bigger and more devastating. The incubi pack kept fucking me like that — rutting with my stupefied body, just like Valerie’s guests did when she drugged me, enjoying my utter helplessness. I was their ragdoll, a helpless human ornament…
Serafina is enslaved to an ancient demon lord… Forced to work for the local supernatural division of the police while her master ‘trains’ her as his broodmare, her days involve fucking one supernatural creature after another, all the while waiting for the day when her master comes to claim her…
Note: I’m updating the name of ‘Serafina’s Destiny’ to ‘Serafina’s Curse’ – not quite finished on all platforms. Anyway, if you’ve been reading this as ‘Serafina’s Destiny’, this is Chapter 19!
Serafina’s Curse: Chapter 19
[‘Serafina’s Curse’ is a maledom, femsub enslavement erotica with lactation, breeding and supernatural/monster-fucking themes. Chapter 1 of ‘Serafina’s Curse’ is here.]
‘You’re a mess.’
The words were not welcome and neither was the tone of voice of the speaker — a mix of light amusement and derision. But my heart jumped anyway, with something that I can only assume was joy.
It was Atticus, of course. I tried to open my eyes, only to realise that I was still wearing the leather hood and the gag. I was even lying with my face half in a wet patch from my own saliva — just how I always wanted Atticus to find me.
‘Remove the hood, sir?’
I almost recognised the voice — this was one of the officers from the station, I thought, not one of Harmer’s men, but someone I more-or-less liked.
‘Not yet,’ Atticus spoke flatly and I wanted to scream. ‘She’ll be OK where she is for now. This is what she’s trained for. And I want photos — get the camera over here.’
I never hated him more than in that moment. I loathed the thought of him seeing me like this, naked and covered in demon cum, chained to a bed. I almost wished they had never found me — even as I wondered, somewhat bewildered, how they even had found me. Given their ability to glamour themselves, incubus sightings were rare and captures even more so.
‘Photograph all of her, sir?’ a different man asked.
‘Yes,’ Atticus said, using a strong hand to roll me onto my back. ‘You’re a mess,’ he said again. ‘If you didn’t want me to photograph you, you shouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place.’
That was enough. I went to yell at him — it wasn’t my fault, it was the fault of the stupid supernatural division for sending me in there without sufficient recon, it was his fault, and if he didn’t unchain and unhood me immediately…
It was going to be a good speech — except of course that I had forgotten that I was gagged and all he heard was a yelping choke before I started coughing and spluttering helplessly.
‘I wouldn’t try to talk if I were you,’ Atticus said calmly, stroking my hair away from my mouth. ‘Get a photo of the contraption in her cunt,’ he ordered the man with the camera. ‘It’s a message for us, no doubt. Whoever set this up knows I’m here.’
I remembered now. As I was drifting off to sleep — and the incubi were grumbling about how tired they were and suggesting different favourite breakfast venues — they had thought of a final torture to keep me occupied until they returned. Telling me about it, gleefully even before they did it, they had inserted an old police truncheon into my sensitive but well-lubricated cunt, pushing it deep and thrusting hard.
It had been too big and I had cried out, with pain and humiliation. Then they had tied it into me, laughing as I writhed on the bed, my languid muscles unable to do more than thrash feebly.
‘Leave it in her,’ Cassius had said, wagging the handle back and forth, emphasising how solid it was and how deep inside me it was. ‘It’ll remind her of our dicks, until we return.’
I whimpered to myself as I heard the click of the camera, hating the thought of my humiliation being captured on film.
‘These photos come straight to me,’ Atticus ordered the man. ‘Not to the lab. Classified with my personal codes.’ I moaned in complaint as I listened — I didn’t understand why he needed photos at all or how he could justify not immediately releasing me. ‘Uncomfortable, are we?’ he asked as he tidied away another strand of my hair.
He ran his thumb across my top lip, still stretched wide from the gag, and I winced at how I must look to him. Even though he was sneering at me, his hand tidying me was gentle and I felt stupidly cared for — even if he hadn’t removed the gag or hood yet.
‘I’m almost tempted to keep you like this,’ he chuckled with amusement. ‘You complain less when you’re gagged, that’s for sure.’
I hate you, I wanted to yell at him. Around me, I could hear the officers packing up and leaving, and I wondered why I was still lying on the bed, hooded and chained. The damn truncheon was still inside me too, and now that my attention had been drawn back to it, I was both insanely uncomfortable and far more comfortable than I wanted to be.
It’s rare that I feel sated these days but after the long night of sex, and with the huge truncheon inside me, I at least felt full for once.
‘Can you walk yet?’ Atticus asked, the same amused note in his voice. As if I could walk while I was chained to a bed, a police truncheon embedded deeply in my cunt.
I wanted to yell at him. But I shook my head weakly instead. I couldn’t move my arms, although I could move my mouth and my neck. My legs and feet felt so unbearably far away from me but I was pretty certain I couldn’t move them either.
‘You’re a mess,’ Atticus said again, with the same derision as before. ‘We’ll get you unchained shortly,’ he said, his fingers stroking around the top of the collar, emphasising my captivity. ‘The lads are just searching the apartment. It’s a penthouse, the incubi rented it for the weekend. They’d have moved you after this — probably after dark tonight — and we would never have found you.’
I tried not to let the terror of my captivity overwhelm me. Yes, I was glad to have been rescued, but I was still angry with Atticus for how he was treating me. Sure, they still had to find the key to the collar, but was that a reason to leave the truncheon humiliatingly inside me, or the hood and gag on?
Atticus was so full of shit.
‘I’m not ungagging you until I can be certain you’re ready to thank me,’ he murmured, still stroking me.
His fingers drifted across the sensitive parts of my throat for a long, teasing moment, making me shiver with sudden need. This his hand slipped back up to my face, his thumb rubbing back and forth across my lips as if to emphasise how incapable I was of talking like this.
‘You’re a delicious sight,’ he said, ‘although you are quite filthy. Did you have to let them put quite that much cum on you? You’re caked with it. Almost an artwork. I suppose there’s even more of it right up inside you,’ he chuckled.
I blushed red hot with embarrassment, wishing I could sink into the bedclothes. How dared he treat me like this? Look at me like this, touch me like this? He was such an arsehole.
‘Serafina’s Curse’ is coming soon as a full novel!
Please follow me for more stories! In the real world, remember to always play safely and practise positive, informed and enthusiastic consent that is respectful of all genders.
Read my new book!
‘Here’s how it’s going to go… I am going to fuck you again, sweet sister, every chance I get. Every family gathering, when I give you the nod, I’ll take you aside and I’ll shove my dick right up into you…’
Zoe is looking forward to meeting her new stepbrother Zane – until the day of their parents’ wedding, when he gropes her, fucks her, and tells her he’s going to own her.
Zoe’s New Stepbrother is available now at All These Roadworks and contains incest, non-con, enslavement, and breeding themes.
Have you read Serafina’s Gift?
Read where it all began… When she receives a mysterious sex toy in the mail, Serafina is too excited to ask questions about who sent it… and why. But her gift bears a supernatural curse – and Serafina can’t stop herself from succumbing to its addictive pleasure. Serafina finds herself descending into a world of rough, degrading gangbangs – helplessly submissive to anyone who wants to use her…
Read the full novel at All These Roadworks or Smashwords!
It’s not a manifesto
I write a lot of M/f non-consent erotica, including enslavement of women, degradation and forced breeding. They are not an expression of how the world should be. Everything I write should stay in the hot world of fiction and play. It should absolutely not become part of the real world.
When I put intense play into my writing, it’s never a description of how these types of play should happen in the real world. There are a lot of people out there who can provide advice on how to do these things for real – listen to them and not me! Love you all 💖
© Pixie Isobella
