#boque's post

♥ Content: joke fic, electrostimulation, implied solo masturbation.

Panty slathered the bald area of her scalp with glue and furiously slapped the toupee on top of it. Screw those two coochie-crab demons hounding Stocking and her like a recurring herpes caught from a cheating ex, and screw that lousy monkey. As if the electrocution hasn’t been enough already… The angel shuddered while remembering the dreadful seconds trapped into those iron crates while impossibly high voltage coursed through her body, making all her muscles contract against her will and sending a violent shock of pain into every single nerve of her anatomy. Even the strongest human on Earth would have died in the first seconds of such treatment, but the two creatures sent from God survived– and suffered. Never again, she thought while combing the synthetic strands with her fingers. Sometimes, having the tenacity of an angel was both a blessing and a curse.

As she kept on fulminating against the world and against her plastic bangs in front of the mirror, the entrance bell rang. Rolling her eyes at the sonorous disturbance, Panty was almost going to stay in her room and let Garterbelt take care of the matter if it wasn’t for her pussy’s Pavlovian clench, reminding her of the new delivery guy and his generous dispositions. She ran downstairs and opened the front door in one move, only to find out that her favourite mail man have been replaced by a middle-aged chick with a jaded face. “For Stocking Anarchy,” she said in a weary voice, handing Panty a package of modest size.

“Thanks,” answered the angel in a barely more enthusiastic tone. Here went her prospect of a good lay. She watched with nostalgia the delivery woman walk away toward her minivan, who was clearly not paid enough to check if the blonde girl was the right recipient. At least she had delivered the package to someone residing at the right address, which was safer than to some random neighbours sometimes a little bit too inquisitive to hand the box untouched. Right?

Not a minute after its delivery, the package was already laying open on the coffee table of the living room, Panty leaning over it with a pair of scissors in hand. She was examining its content with a troubled expression on the face, trying to make sense of the object before her eyes: an assortment of electrodes and crocodile clips, along with to a black remote. After having contained an initial feeling of nausea at the sight of the electric device, she was now trying to think about even a single reason as to why would Stocking need such object. A sudden interest toward cardiovascular medicine? Unlikely, as the gothic lolita rarely cared about anybody but herself. Perhaps was she devising a plan to give the demon sisters a taste of their own medicine? Maybe was it Panty’s own desire of revenge which was prompting her that option, but that idea made more sense.

Suddenly, she felt two cold hands wrap around her neck. “You fucking bitch! Who allowed you to touch my stuff?!” Stocking’s high-pitched voice yelled at her face while she began violently strangling and shaking the blonde.

“Calm– Calm the fuck– hrrruh– Calm the fuck down! I haven’t– rheurh– Even taken out of the box–”

Hearing that, Stocking loosened her grip, inspecting the content of the box with a dubious pout. “Hm… I guess so…” She released her sister’s neck in favour of grabbing the package. She shot Panty a dirty look: “It better not be damaged. Or else…”

The blonde stuck her tongue out to Stocking’s turned back as the goth was walking away to her room. Really, today wasn’t her lucky day. Perhaps could she ensure to at least have a good night, she thought while massaging her sore neck. A new male strip club just opened in town, it was worth giving it a shot; and if by any chance luck still wasn’t on her side, she had her habits on the scenes of regular strip clubs. Her nocturnal activities now planned, she climbed up to her room to prepare for the night.

***

Hair wrapped in a towel and face covered by clay, legs wide open, Panty spread a trail of brown wax on her skin, accompanied in her cares by the constant sounds coming from her sister’s bedroom. A series of high-pitched moans, eloquent regarding of what activity the goth had chosen to occupy her night. They had began ringing to the blonde’s ears since dusk, and the sky was already pitch-black outside the window. The repetitive whines slowly but surely getting on her nerves as night progressed, she had considered knocking at Stocking’s door to complain; but realizing it would be like the pot calling the kettle black, she gritted her teeth and silently prayed for her sister’s nearby exhaustion, keeping on with her ablutions. Maybe was she the one owing her an apology, she thought, trying to recall how many men had crossed her bedroom’s doorstep in only the past week.

The angel grabbed the tip of the wax trail, braced herself, and…

“AAAAAARGH!”

The shrilling yell caused Panty to raise her head, confused. Around her, the many bathroom lights began flickering in unison, before shutting down all of a sudden, leaving the blonde in the dark with a pussy full of wax.

A flock of nocturnal birds dramatically flew from the trees when a cry of pure rage pierced the night: “STOCKIIING!”

Drops of sweat ran down in thin rivulets between her small breasts, the two spheres hoisted up and outlined by the movement of her arms rising above her head. She finished getting her head past the tight fabric of her sports bra and slid the garment down her arms, curving her spine a bit while doing so.

Without thinking, I placed my palm on her bare back, appreciating the warmth of her skin covered by a thin layer of sweat. However, this small contact didn't last long, as I soon retreated my hand in order to swiftly go around my girlfriend and wrap my arms around her waist, pressing my chest against her back and burying my face in the crook of her neck. "You smell good," I whispered, inhaling the musky tang emanating from her post-workout body.

She scoffed. "Really?"

I buried my face further into her neck. "Mhm."

The locker room was empty save from us two— perks of going to the gym so early. Or so late, depending on the perspective.

I got off of her to let out a big yawn. "I don't know how you're able to wake up at this hour."

"And I don't know how you're able to stay up so late..."

"Yeah? Well, I'm going straight to bed after that, I'm telling you."

She chuckled in response before taking off her panties and heading to the showers, washing items in hand. I promptly followed her. "Hey! So soon?"

" 'So soon'?" Do you want to linger in this locker room all day long?"

"No, it's just..." I took my remaining clothes off too, discarding them on the tiled floor before joining her in the shower cabin. "...We have the locker room all to ourselves..."

She raised her arm to the metallic shower caddy where she had placed the products and wrapped her fingers around the green bottle of body wash— pomelo scented. I scrunched my nose.

Citrus perfumes usually didn't displease me; but in this present setting, the very thought of fresh and soapy body wash on my partner's skin felt as appalling and heterodox as wrapping your hands around a greasy and gooey cheeseburger while settled in freshly changed sheets, wearing clean and pretty pajamas, stomach already full and teeth already brushed; fluorinated breathe blowing past some lips slathered in sticky and pricey lip balm. Too drastically different pleasures— and a time for each.

I gently grabbed her wrists, preventing her from taking the bottle out of the caddy. "Wait..." I blurted out. "Don't... Please, let me..." Without thinking, I dove nose first into her exposed armpit.

The damp, coarse hairs immediately tickled the sensitive skin of my face; a strong scent, piquant and savoury, invaded my nostrils. Her scent, her very own essence, raw and authentic. A rush of heat grew at the pit of my stomach and spread to the rest of my body. Pleasant tingles bloomed between my legs as a Pavlovian reflex, my other half's current body odour reminiscent of her post-coïtal one except ten times stronger.

Cardio days be blessed.

To my great chagrin, I eventually had to retreat from this divine oasis of scents, lest I would suffocate from the lack of air (a sweet way to leave this earth, if any).

I pressed my mouth against the armpit in a salty goodbye kiss and looked at my partner. She looked back at me with a half-surprised, half-amused expression on the face. I puckered my lips and tip-toed; but instead of meeting my lover's lips, my face encountered the gentle but firm presence of her palm obstructing my progression. "I'm not going to kiss you after you had your face in my armpit."

I let out a dejected whine in response, pouting two seconds for form before I gave her a cunning look while lowering on my knees.

But I was faced with a second rejection. "Hell no." She grabbed my shoulders and pressed me to stand back up. "Don't even think of putting your mouth here. This is even worse than on the mouth."

My whine was more genuine this time. However, my mood lightened up again when she knelt before me. "You better come fast..." She warned. "I really want to get cleaned up."

"It's up to you," I replied, grinning.

The dark look she threw me from below made butterflies appear in my stomach. Its meaning was crystal clear: challenge accepted.

"<i>Aki!</i> Fuck off! They're mine! MINE!!!"

The strawberry blonde girl screamed in protestation, contorting her body in an effort to free herself from the rope tying her to the chair. Its wooden feet scraped and struck the floor under her violent jerks. "<i>I'm</i> the one who found them! Who seduced them!! Who brought them here!!!" Her voice was strident like this of a harpy, and bellicose all the same. Browning traces of blood were still staining the contour of her mouth. "You have NO right to take them away from me!! You bastard!!!"

"Watch your mouth, fiend." The pale man standing in the room—Aki, as it seemed—replied in a barely irate tone, visibly more annoyed than anything. And weary. He moved his head to face you before immediately turning it away, as if he had just suddenly become aware of your current state.

You were sitting on the futon, legs folded against your chest— entirely naked. Still trying to process what was happening. <i>'Fiend'?</i> You looked at the girl tied to the chair. Her baseball cap had fallen from her head and was lying on the floor a couple of feet away; baring two red horns sprouting at the top of her head, sticking out of her pinkish strands... Your blood ran cold as a flash of understanding finally hit you. "You... You are... You have lied to me..." You stuttered to the Devil, not daring to fully make eye contact with her— it?

Aki scoffed. "So you were telling the truth, eh? I'm impressed you managed to seduce such a good-looking person." You felt the blood rush to your cheeks. <i>'Good-looking'...</i> You looked at the man who just talked.

Dark blue irises behind a jaded gaze, an unusual eye colour when paired with jet black hair; the raven strands which were too short to be tied up in the straight ponytail were falling on his forehead, partially hiding the man's delicate features. Even the dark circles under his eyes gave him an undeniable charm. Despite the present situation you were in, you felt flattered being seen that way by such an attractive man as the one standing before you.

"They smelled good," Power muttered. "And tasted good. So fucking good..." She risked a hungry glance in your direction; the same look that you had previously mistaken for simple lust, when the girl had lowered herself in front of your bare sex a few minutes ago. Shivers ran up and down your spine as you realized what terrible death you had narrowly avoided. Or rather, had been narrowly saved from, thanks to Aki's intervention.

A plaid fell on your shoulders. "Are you okay?" Your saviour asked.

You unfolded your limbs and adjusted the plaid on your body, your bare legs sticking out. "Thank you... Yes, I... I think so. She's a Devil, right?" You tilted your chin toward the horned woman.

Aki nodded. "Blood Devil."

"Oh." You instinctively looked down to your thighs before swiftly redirecting your gaze to your surroundings, carefully scanning the floor for your discarded underwear. You cringed internally upon feeling the sticky substance gathering between your legs and very likely staining the sheets under you.

You had always wondered how people concerned by the matter proceeded when menstruating in critical circumstances... For instance, when attacked by a Devil. Granted, in your present situation, the threat was apparently under control; your bodily condition more of an embarrassing but minor bother to take care of than a real hindrance to your survival.

Not that it suddenly made the subject all the less awkward to bring up to a stranger. You knew you shouldn't hold shame for a natural occurrence you couldn't control, but still: What were you supposed to say? <i>'Excuse me, Mister Aki, my body's currently leaking blood and I can't do anything about it. Need hygienic protection ASAP in order to stop repainting the bedding in red. By the way, have you seen my used one? It must still be next to my panties.'</i> The made-up monologue made you smile internally, if of sour comedy.

Menstruating or not, you needed to get dressed up anyway. Finally localizing your panties, you stood up from the futon with the intention of picking them up and quickly retreating to the small appartement's toilet.

Unfortunately, your body was not able to hold a vertical position very long: your legs almost instantly gave up under your weight.

While your conscious brain was still a bit numb and currently focused on the specific matter of your period, it seemed that your body, on the other hand, had processed the stakes of the recent events and the ghastly death you nearly avoided way quicker; therefore entering a state of shock without you having much control over it.

Aki's reflexes came into action before you were able to crash on the floor, his arms wrapping around your form and supporting your body in time to cushion your fall back on the futon.

***

A wave of panic hit Aki as he guided the person's trembling form back on the sheets. He usually didn't have to take care of Devil victims: it wasn't in his field of competences, as the Public Safety Commission had a structure dedicated to assist civilians harmed by Devils; be it physically or psychologically.

At least the individual fell into the latter category, he told himself.

The thought of redirecting them to the Commission briefly crossed his mind before he quickly discarded it: he would have to explain what had happened— inevitably putting Power, him, and consequently Denji (as the poor boy had nowhere else to call a home) in trouble. No, he had to take care of things by himself this time.

'Things' being the half-naked individual who was currently trembling like a leaf on his bed.

Aki's training resurfaced into his mind, in the form of snippets of Himeno's voice: <i>"You really need to learn to regulate your breathing. Can't let them feed on your fear. It's a life-or-death matter." (A sigh.) "Don't pull that shit ever again."</i> The tone was more one of concern than of true reprimand.

The memory was situated right after Aki's first mission: an encounter with a minor Devil, which had nearly turned into a disaster because of Aki's fall into panic. He remembered feeling his entire body freeze in place and shake like a leaf; his mind perfectly aware of his surroundings, but incapable of sending the mere command of action to his physical sheath—face likely displaying the same dazed expression as the person sitting before him. 

A bittersweet feeling of nostalgia made its way in the Devil hunter's heart at the memory of the authoritative, raspy, yet strangely mothering voice of his mentor. <i>"Let's try again. After me: Inhale..."</i>

"...Exhale," he gently ordered, standing in a squatting position next to the trembling person. A stuttered breath escaped from their lips.

As Aki kept on guiding their breathing into a calm pattern, he noticed that a part of the plaid had slid from their shuddering form, revealing a bare shoulder and breast. Without thinking, he reached for the edge of the plaid with the intention of readjusting it over the naked body; but the hurried move caused his hand to brush against the exposed breast.

As soon as he felt and saw his hand brush against the nipple, his heart missed a beat and a feeling of mortification seized him. He didn't want the individual to think that he was taking advantage of the situation—for their sake primarily, as the orphan he had become at an early age knew all too well the sickening feeling of distress from being taken advantage of while in a vulnerable state, and the adult he was didn't wish to inflict these dreadful sentiments on anyone; but also a bit egotistically for his own sake, as he didn't want to be mistakenly accused of outrageous intentions.

"Sorry," he blurted out while immediately retreating his hand.

Thankfully, it seemed that the blunder had brought the person out of their panicked state and back to reality. "It's okay," they replied, and even sent Aki a soft smile before they readjusted the plaid themselves.

Seeing that the individual took no offense from his involuntary contact, the Devil hunter allowed himself to relax. He placed a hand on the person's back—a ‘safe’ area, covered by the thick plaid—and began rubbing it up and down.

***

All caught up in trying to redirect your attention back to your breathing after it was diverted by Aki's accidental contact with your chest, you almost started upon feeling the weight of his hand against your back. You castigated yourself when the chaste, consoling gesture of his palm slowly rubbing up and down your spine elicited not-so-platonic feelings in your mind and body.

Indeed, the mere grazing of your nipple by his hand had been enough to ignite back the cinders of your previous passions shared with Power; cinders maintained warm by the agitation and surge of adrenaline caused by seeing the man with jet-black hair not only barge in the room where the woman was eating you out, but also tackle your sexual partner down on the floor and swiftly tie her up to a chair.

It certainly didn't help that Aki was an unequivocally handsome man; his weary expression only heightening the sympathy one may feel towards him in a phenomenon of condolence. Without fully realizing it, you gaped at your saviour, your desire for him seemingly growing with each stroke of his hand against your back. Your nipple tingled with the phantom memory of its contact with this very hand, and your aroused mind crafted scenarii of his skin meeting your bare one once again—this time with more intention, more fully, and for a longer moment.

Suddenly, Aki's gaze shifted, meeting yours. You quickly averted your gaze, feeling your cheeks heat up terribly; as if Aki had been able to read your mind, and consequently your erotic fantasies in detail, with this short eye contact.

***

The person quickly looked away, fleeing his gaze. As a reflex, the Devil hunter did the same, redirecting his eyes to Power—realizing that she had been unusually silent in the last minutes.

She was looking at her victim with an indecipherable expression on the face, not quite predatory: or at the very least not in a brute, uncalculated form of it.

Something else was at play under her half-closed eyelids, something Aki wasn't used to seeing in the blood fiend who usually displayed simple, straightforward facial expressions. As he studied Power's features, working his brain in an attempt to ravel what was hidden being them, the answer suddenly appeared into his mind, crystal clear: lust. Power was looking at the person next to Aki with lust, an appetite of sexual nature brewing behind her focused gaze.

This took Aki aback, as he had never seen Power show and act on other desires than those of eating, sleeping, disobeying, and drinking human blood. But what surprised him even more was the emotion striking his own mind upon the realization: jealousy.

He tried to rationalize the feeling into a sense of duty, a drive to protect the person sitting next to him from the fiend; but he quickly had to face the facts that, to his great shame, a more primal part of him saw Power as a potential sexual rival rather than as a life-threatening menace.

He adjusted his position in an attempt to regain some composure, but the shift only resulted in making him become aware of the tightness of his pants. A quick glance downward confirmed his fear: the black suit pants were evocatively stretched at the crotch. <i>Great,</i> he thought, bitter. His libido, almost non-existent these last few years, had to choose this critical moment to manifest itself.

It had been a while since the Devil hunter shared a sexual act with someone, or even with himself: too busy, too tired. Especially lastly, with one Devil and one teenager at home— the latter barely less badly-behaved than the first.

He stared again at Power, racking his brain on how to maneuver the situation.

The girl-Devil suddenly noticed that she was being watched. She turned her head to look at Aki; her grave, lustful expression shifting into a falsely afflicted one that the man knew all too well.

"C'mon, Topknot..." She whined from her chair. "Can I just... Have one more lick between their legs? I won't bite, promise! Nothing more than licking..." She punctuated her plea by trailing her long, hungry tongue on her lips, likely tasting the dregs of dry blood lingering on it.

***

The Devil's words were enough to throw you back into a state of alert. Yet somehow, a small part of your brain still kept enough awareness for your alarm to be tinged with a deep feeling of embarrassment from hearing your former sexual partner literally beg the man next to you for access to your private parts.

Speaking of whom, Aki was no less unaffected by the raunchy request, judging by the pink hue coloring his cheeks. He had interrupted his strokes on your spine when the Devil started speaking, and you could feel the way his hand tensed and involuntarily pressed itself against your back through the plaid. 

"Quiet, Po– Blood fiend!" He exclaimed, voice reaching the high notes as an effect of his distress and haste to silence the Devil.

It failed miserably as she went on, by no means intimidated. "Actin' like you don't know me? Ya can't even call me by my name? How rude of you, Akiii!" She stretched his name in an unpleasant screech. "You're not going to steal them from me, don't you?" She said while cocking her head to the side. "After all, guys like to lick there too... Even when there's no blood! Do <i>you</i> want to lick here too, Aki?"

Aki's cheeks turned a full crimson—not only from anger. "Where have you learn—"

"Denji's mags," the Devil said, a cocky expression on the face. "So? You're not going to eat them at my place, right? Take my prey away from me when I did all the work? Is that why you saved them?" Her gilded eyes quickly shifted between your form and Aki's: now at him with a beseeching gleam, now at you with a sheen of crave.

If before the absurd idea that Aki could have read your erotic thoughts had faintly crossed your mind before it was brushed off as quickly as it came, this time you truly contemplated the possibility that the fiend could read your shameful fantasies like in an open book, with how intensely she was staring at you on the moments the quick metronome of her eye motions fell back on your form.

Not able to support such dreadful stare any longer, you turned your head to the side; causing Aki and you to lock eyes once again.

At this instant—as if by some mysterious sorcery—a silent, mutual agreement sprouted between Aki and you.

Perhaps your mutual sexual energies matched frequency by some yet unknown physical phenomenon; perhaps you both could read the other's lascivious thoughts after all, or at least subconsciously grasp some fragments of it thanks to some kind of feeble telepathic powers... In any ways, the subject of the nonverbal agreement was crystal clear for the both of you.

Aki's hand shifted from its initial position on your back in favour of landing on your bare thigh. The coldness of his hand was not unpleasant against your heated skin. More secretive regions of your body heated up when he began some slow strokes along your limb—this time of an unequivocally less platonic nature.

"Pardon this fiend's behaviour..." He began, remnants of his previous agitation still lingering in the tone of his voice he tried to maintain calm and poised. "She can be a <i>handful</i>..." He emphasized the last word by gently but firmly squeezing the meat of your thigh. You could feel a slight tremor going through his hand, likely because of his nervousness. "That's why I think... She should..." His Adam apple bobbed along his throat. "...Be taught a lesson... A psychological one... She..." His breathing was stuttered, hitting your face in a warm sensation. "Doesn't really understand with corporal punishment... Will you help me?"

"Yes..." You replied in a breath, giving a short nod while looking into Aki's dilated pupils. Yours probably looked the same. "Gladly... If... If it needs to be done..."

Aki flashed you a little smile of relief— a delightfully awkward one, and delicately brushed his slightly trembling fingers against your cheek.

He then got on his knees in staccato motions, glancing at you before shyly looking away. He instead turned his head to the fiend tied to the chair. "I want you to watch very carefully, Power." He said in an authoritative tone, and gently pushed your legs open with one hand on each knee. "Look and witness what you're missing by behaving so badly..." He turned his head back to you— to your bloodied sex now into view, and placed a tender kiss on it.

"NO!" Screamed a panicked Power. "No, no Aki, stop! You fucking stop! YOU FUCKING STOP DRINKING MY MEAL!" Her anger was turning into despair, her screams merging into sobs as Aki was low lapping in earnest at your cunt, blotches of red soon staining his lower face. "YOU FUCKING SCUM! NO!!! NOOO!!!"

"You are really pretty."

"You are too. I really want to…" No words come out of her mouth. Instead, a long hum reaches her ears. It's definitely her voice, and it resounds in her head all the same as every sound her vocal cords ever made; but she had no intention of producing that sound, and it doesn't match the motions of her lips which tried to articulate actual words.

Fortunately, it doesn't matter: the man before her – her high school crush – seems to have understood what she wanted to express. He smiles and cups her breasts. Suddenly, they're both naked in an empty bathtub. The landscape shifts at high speed: the bathtub is moving by itself, activating its four chicken feet (she can't see them from where she's seated, but she somehow knows they're here).

Her crush places his hands on each side of her waist and starts some pelvic thrusts; except he does so in the air, his erection only bumping into the soft skin of her stomach. "It's not the good way…" She says, voice strangely padded.

He points down at her navel: "It is: here's the hole." She tries to shake her head, but instead falls into the bathtub drain.

She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling– or rather at where the ceiling is supposed to be, her eyes not yet accustomed to the darkness of the room. Her brain rewinds images of the dream. Verdict: bizarre, a bit frustrating, but not downright unpleasant. Maybe she will even still remember some snippets of it in the next few years.

It's not the first time she oneirically cheats on her partner. And certainly not the first time she will recount it to him as she plans to, and alike not the first time he will laugh and ask in a cheeky tone if she wants to recreate it with him– well, maybe not this time though, considering the dream's event. Although it's been a while since they did it in the bathtub.

She looks to the side and sees his form next to her in the bed, lying on his back. She straightens up a bit and looks downward. She sees what she hoped she would: the cover is stretched in a small hill, which sight goes straight to her sex– still dewy from the dream.

Desire proves itself stronger than the call to fall back asleep. She gets out from under the cover and crosses the short distance separating her from the hill. There, she straddles her partner's body, her bare sex towering over his concealed one. When she lowers herself and her crotch finally makes contact with the fabric, the sensation is even more divine than how she expected it to be. The familiar shape of her partner's hard-on is barely blurred by the cover, its length and girth still recognizable if a bit enlarged by the layer of fabric.

Her weight pushes the column forward against his lower abdomen; her lips part around it, and her bared clitoris rubs against the soft fabric which will soon become just the right type of coarse when dampened from her arousal.

She rubs herself back and forth in slow drags of her hips, each drag more delicious than the first. She doesn't have to wait long before some hands lazily stick out of the cover and settle on her hips, guiding the slow humping. "You are really pretty," their owner mumbles, still half-asleep.

She can't help but laugh in reaction to the déjà vu. "You're not gonna believe me, but someone told me the same thing tonight. In my dream."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Gotta say, it's better hearing it from you."

It's his turn to let out a soft laughter before he starts humping back at a lazy pace.

I climbed the stairs faster and faster, my strides swallowing the steps one by one as I dashed to the top.

I could almost see the light at the summit: this white, shiny aura, injecting pure bliss into your veins once you reached its embrace; making your body pulsate in the most delightful way.

My body was growing warmer and warmer as I climbed, the voluptuous fumes becoming stronger and denser with the altitude. My mind was already wiped from any thought save from this urge to reach the top of the stairs, to submit my body to the aura of bliss awaiting me.

Came a point where my path faced no bend for a while. I closed my eyes and kept on running: I had done the way enough times to recognize that final straight line leading to my goal. I almost flew to the summit, already seeing the blinding white light through my closed lids; I could almost touch it, if I extended my arm...

But suddenly, the stairs shirked under my feet. Before I could realize it, I was falling into the cold, dark void, my body deprived of the blissful warmth which was ready to welcome me with open arms barely two seconds ago. I opened my eyes wide and an exclamation of protest came out of my mouth, more whiny than I intended it to be. "Hey!!!"

"Tss, tss, tss." The culprit of my robbed orgasm clicked their tongue disapprovingly. "What did I say before we started?"

"No protest," I recited in a dour voice.

"Exactly. You know better than to complain." They said as they reached for an object nearby. A click of their thumb, and the device came to life in a strangely threatening buzz. My lower body throbbed, apparently feeling differently than my brain about the sound. "Now behave a bit better, and I might let you come tonight."

JUpon their wedding, the prince and the farmer's daughter turned princess took the habit of using any special date on the calendar as an occasion to organize balls and other social events, as they were both quite gregarious individuals. The more the merrier was their watchword: the palace was spacious and had a regiment of servants working within its walls, and so they would send oodles of invites without much sorting. That's how the evil sorcerer who had formerly cursed the princess was invited at the palace on October 1st to the Feast of the Intercession. It was no wonder the man was on the list, as he had connections among the aristocrats due to attending numerous events held by nobles in his sought of rich and swanky company.

At the feast, the sorcerer immediately recognized the farmers' daughter he had cursed barely three moons ago, and was aghast upon discovering that not only had her teeth (and thus what was below the belt as well) returned to normal, she was also the prince's new spouse!

Upon seeing the royal couple thriving and exchanging the unmistakable amorous looks of good harmony in the sheets, the magician's evil nature immediately came up with a plan to disturb their well-being. Later in the evening, as the princess had left the table to dance with a flock of tipsy guests, he approached the prince. The young man, who had already ingested his fair share of alcohol, greeted the sorcerer with red cheekbones and a blissful smile on his face. Seizing the opportunity, the wicked man began cooing flirtatious words to the prince's ear, and eventually offered him a little treat under the table. The inebriated man gladly accepted the offer and began unbuckling his pants, barely caring about adding some discretion to the act.

The sorcerer almost sneered as he left his seat and crawled under the tablecloth: it was all too easy. Spreading his legs and leaning back into his chair, the prince got ready for the 'treat'. Except instead of feeling the soft warmth and wetness of a mouth around his cock, his genitals met the hard and cold contact of metal. Snapping out of his inebriation, he hastily lifted the hem of the tablecloth and let out a shocked yelp: his shaft and testicles had been caged into a strange apparatus made of steel rods, which had been aligned and crossed into a grid structure bent into the shape of a limp penis. The prince's flaccid appendice currently laid trapped into the small cage; a ring behind his scrotum was connected to the cage, keeping it sealed in place.

The sorcerer arose from under the tablecloth and pointed a bony finger still adorned with his obnoxious skull-shaped ring (the servants, the guests and the prince suddenly felt very foolish for not having witnessed such detail sooner). He let out an evil snicker before jeering: "young prince, you shall pay for the offenses of your new wife towards my person! Your miserable cock is now locked behind this cage, and thus utterly unusable! But know that I'm not a monster," he cooed in an exaggeratedly mellow tone, "for there is still a light of hope for you to be delivered from this affliction: where the cage connects with the ring is a minuscule lock, keeping the two pieces joined together. Come you find a locksmith skilled enough to craft the key to the lock, you will be set free; but that is almost – if not entirely – impossible, I'm afraid so... Until then, enjoy your pitiful era of abstinence!" And with that, he disappeared into a thick cloud of purple smoke which threw the nearby guests and servants into a coughing fit.

Since this baneful 1st of October, the prince endured great suffering from his forced abstinence. He had thought that privation from the sexual delights (of which his wife had graciously made him discover a vast variety during these three months) would have been the most difficult part of his torture; he was sorely mistaken. After only a few days of captivity, his penis began to swell in an abnormal way, all constricted as it was in the small cage; it even took a worrying purple hue, and soon emitted a strong fishy odor which was perceptible even feet away from the prince, no matter the amount of fragrance the poor man was applying on his groin.

But the most excruciating part of his torture took place after nightfall. Every night, the prince was awakened by a terrible pain in his lower regions: his shaft, used to stretch and harden into proud erections in the tranquility of the dark hours, was now fighting against the cage a battle it couldn't win. Its strain would nonetheless pull the device forward, dragging with it the ring placed behind the scrotum and thus mistreating his testicles in an agonizing way!

Locksmiths from all over the country came to the palace and kneeled in turn before the prince's crotch (rapidly taking the habit of covering their nose with a piece of cloth while doing so). Throughout all October they tried to craft a key able to fit into the barely visible nook of the lock, without success– Until the last day of the month, when a short old man presented himself before the prince while all the other locksmiths had thrown in the towel (after getting far enough from the prince and his nefarious body odor, that is).

The old man was the least renowned and the most mocked locksmith of the region, for his short and thin fingers only allowed him to craft tiny keys, only fitted for small children toys or dainty music boxes. He plunged his hand in his pocket and took out a tiny ball of wax, which he carefully applied on the tiny lock before collecting the resulting mold. After a few hours, as the sun was just about to set, he came back to the palace with a golden key so small that only his nimble fingers were able to operate it into the lock– which, to everybody's marveling, yielded, letting the cage slide off of the prince's genitals.

The prince, elated, shed tears of joy and jumped off of his throne, opening his arms to anyone who would want to share such glee with him. Everyone in his surroundings scrunch their nose and declined his embrace, politely pointing to the nearest bathroom.

After an intense cleaning session which required multiple replacements of the bath water, the prince organized a giant orgy in the castle to celebrate the end of his torments. Since this peculiar event, it became a tradition in the country to put on chastity cages or belts the 1st of October and to try to last as long as possible until the very end of the month– which always ended up in a big orgy at the castle for as long as the prince and the princess of this tale lived to organize it.

Travel diary

Day 16 of the month of the Whale, year 1577

The sweet perfume of the forest invades my nostrils as I write these lines, still lingering in the air as the dusk falls on Elondolt Forest. In this month of the Whale, when the temperatures rise up and nature awakens again, greens and pinks and yellows tint the woods, proclaiming love season.

This morning, I was awakened by two butterflies who brushed against my nose, twirling around each other in the swift dance characteristic of their courtship ritual.

The scientific community isn't short of knowledge around butterfly matings. We know few, however, about the mating habits of our distantly related: namely, the species of the noble centaurs, who notably populates the Elondolt Forest, and for whom I traveled lands and seas for a chance of learning more about their ways of living.

Back to the subject of mating– one interrogation, especially, causes much debate and speculations among experts. The point of interest touches upon the reproductive anatomy of the centaurs; which, indeed, of the equestrian or human part, sports the genitals? Are they situated between the back legs of the animal? Or rather at the front, in the pubic area, just before the smooth skin puts on horsehair?

Up to this day, this conundrum divides naturalists: some claim that a horse anatomy makes more sense regarding the centaurs' locomotion, and would match their spirited and athletic nature; some others suggest that a human anatomy would imply face-to-face intercourse, and thus more intimacy and intentional gestures of passion between partners– matching the centaurs' well-known intelligence and heightened sense of dignity.

Today, at least, I'm able to provide some answers regarding this long-debated mystery– that is, if I ever make it out alive out of this forest… But for now, allow me to recount in this diary the extraordinary scene I was lucky enough to witness this afternoon.

As I was hiding in some bushes with all the care and stealth that my capacities allowed to – a necessity when faced with such skilful hunters as centaurs –, three of the noble hybrids entered the glade before my eyes: two males and one female, exchanging some keen looks of unequivocally flirtatious nature. All suspicions were confirmed when the female one shared a languorous kiss with one of the males, who was sporting a black bay coat as dark as charcoal. The third centaur, who was wearing a chestnut coat, began amorously caressing the croup of his male counterpart.

But this amorous introduction didn't last long, as they rapidly interrupted it to peel off their clothes: traditional tunics falling at the front into a long piece of fabric reminiscent of a loincloth, paired with short caparisons draping only their croupes in the mild weather of spring. The garments were hung on low branches, as the species of hybrids usually avoid putting its possessions at ground level; reaching for the floor a tedious process for the tall half-equestrian bodies.

The three centaurs now naked as on the day of their birth, I was able to notice the presence of phalluses of human dimensions on the two males' front, already half-erected. While the distance didn't allow me to draw clear observations concerning the female, the black bay's actions confirmed the more than probable presence of a vulva when he lowered a hand to her pubis and petted her in the region, causing her head to fall on his shoulder– clearly feeling languorous from his fondles. She lowered a hand too and returned the favour, grabbing his member and immediately settling a regular pace.

The pair kissed again. For his part, the chestnut one slid a hand just below the base of his male companion's tail. The black bay stamped the grass with his hooves on site and moaned; eloquent about the nature of his male counterpart's ministrations. Shivers visibly crossed his equestrian body; his coat undulating in short, quick trembles from the front to the back, to his tail which lightly whipped the chestnut centaur.

I had conjectured that the latter was going to penetrate his male partner with his four hooves still on the ground, given that his genitals were at the front. You can imagine my surprise when he lifted his breast in one movement just to heavily settle it on his mate's back! Tilting his human upper body forward, he took a hold of the black bay's shoulders and adjusted his croupe until the other male let out a loud, husky groan. The centaur at the top stayed still for a minute or two, stroking his partner's shoulders while the female rubbed a soothing hand on his waist; then, prompted by a nod of the black bay, the chestnut centaur began some slow but vigorous hip thrusts. He let go of a shoulder and lowered his free hand to his front, his arm settling into an explicit motion: the centaur now pleasuring both of his phalluses.

I redirected my gaze to the other pair, just in time to see the dark male hold his completely erect length and guide it to his female partner's sex. They eventually found themselves joined at the groin, their fronts flushed with each other. They then began making out, barely jostled by the chestnut's thrusts which were gaining in intensity.

Numerous thoughts were spinning inside my mind as I kept my gaze fixed on the trio. And so, it seemed that male centaurs had two penises– one at the front, one at the back… Was group intercourse a common occurrence? It could have explained the presence of the two organs, from a perspective of social evolution…

My pondering was interrupted when a fourth centaur – another male, sporting a red roan coat – walked to the triad, entirely undressed as well. The others seemed barely disrupted by his presence, and even welcomed it positively from what I could observe. They exchanged a few words in their language before the newcomer placed himself behind the female, stroking her croupe in the same way the chestnut centaur had done with the black bay; and just like him, he eventually lifted the heavy front half of his body and mounted her in the same fashion.

This act added a layer of wondering to my thoughts. Was sodomy such a common practice among centaurs, even for females? Or was it that…

I kept on observing this strange copulation, waiting for some answers. The pair at the center was connected in an almost uninterrupted kiss, if it weren't for the moans of pleasure – high-pitched for the female, huskier for the male – slipping from their lips. They were clasping to each other as if they feared being separated, when the active males' repeated thrusts were only pushing their fronts closer. Her arms were wrapped around his sturdy waist, his trapping her biceps into a tight embrace. I saw one of his hands blindly grope around, until it found the third male's erect shaft which he promptly grabbed and began pleasuring.

Unsurprisingly, the chestnut male was the first to reach climax: his hand and hips suddenly paced up, until his body stuttered and crashed flush against the dark croupe while he was painting his mate's back in white threads of semen. The third male followed soon, staining the black bay's hand in the same fashion.

The two spent males dismounted, their four combined hooves hitting the ground in close-spaced thuds. The chestnut one trotted to the clothes hung to the branches and rummaged through them. He eventually fetched out two brushes that I suspected were made out of boar hair, the hog species abounding in the forest and their hair making for great grooming tools. He handed one to the red roan centaur, who had joined him a few feet away from the other pair. They began brushing each other's sweaty coats with great application. Such aftercare didn't surprise me: grooming played a very important part within the centaurs' social habits.

Back to the remaining couple, the black bay male and the female both proceeded to bend their four legs in jerky motions, sitting together on the green grass without breaking apart. As they had pivoted a bit in the process, the female's backside was now facing my hideout; her tail distractedly whipping the air and displaying to my gaze the dark, puffy lips of a vulva dripping with semen and natural lubrication…

No idea how all of this would wrap up concerning pregnancy… Maybe the front female parts are purely for the sake of sexual pleasure, and the internal reproductive organs are connected to the back?

Man I had such a blast writing this prompt! Might be my favourite up to now. Although I think I kind of deviated from the "monsterfucker" prompt since there is no human involved… Except if we imagine that the researcher is secretly getting off on the scene? (Maybe not everything is recounted in the diary 👀)