Chapter Eleven

LEVERIA

I walked to the dungeons, my footsteps echoing into the still night. The guard nodded to me and opened the iron door. He guided me by torchlight through the catacombs, the wails and shrieks of captured beasts echoing through the halls. I followed with one hand on his shoulder, carefully watching my footsteps as I navigated the uneven stairs. A familiar voice reached my ears. Mother’s sobs rang through the dark halls, each new lamentation punctuated by a whimper. Her cell was lit with torches, a courtesy reserved for imperial prisoners, no doubt. That was the only courtesy given. Her wrists were shackled loosely in her lap, and her ankles were clamped firmly to the floor. She had enough room to squat if she had the strength, and relieve herself in the bucket beside her. The state of her dress told me she wasn’t very accurate. I bit my hand to suppress the laugh. To see the proud, elegant and noble Trenaria Tiadoa lowered to such a state was positively delightful. I tried to imagine Yavara the same way, but couldn’t. Truth be told, I took after Mother much more than Yavara did. Yavara was all jawline, cheekbones and chin, while Mother and I were portraited much more delicately.

“Leave us.” I said to the guard, taking his keys.

Mother’s grief muted at the sound of my voice. She searched the darkness, her eyes squinting to discern what the torchlight had left behind. “Leveria? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mother.” I said as I stepped into the torchlight.

Her face twisted. “It’s so good to see you!”

“I needed to come.” I said, reaching the bars of her cell, “I couldn’t let you spend your last night alone.”

“This doesn’t have to be my last night!” Mother cried, “Leveria, you must go to your father and convince him that Glendian is lying! You always had a way with him. Please, go tell him that I never betrayed him!”

“Didn’t you say you laid with an incubus?”

“I did, and I’m ashamed,” Mother said, averting my gaze, “but I never knew about any of the other things Glendian spoke of.”

“I want to believe you.” I said, resting my head against the bars, “But how can I, Mother? My word might mean something to Father, but I won’t lie.” I gave her a somber look, “I think he’s been lied to enough on your behalf.”

Mother gulped, her eyes filled with shame. If only she’d known I wasn’t talking about her. “Glendian has a journal.” Mother finally said, “All the headmasters keep one. A meeting with the queen about cryptic census information would surely be noteworthy. Make him prove he met with me.”

“He would just say you made him strike it from the record.”

“He can’t strike it from the record. Those journals are spellbound; he said so himself.” Mother offered a rueful smile, “I wish I’d thought of it when I was up there, but I was never as quick-witted as you or your father.”

“Glendian’s journal…” I pondered. That had been an egregious oversite on my part, “If someone were to produce it to Father with just the right amount of conviction, it could blow Glendian’s entire account to the wind. It would at least force a stay of execution.”

“That’s all I need, just a week.” Mother insisted with a nod, her eyes filled with desperate hope, “Clartias hates me now, but it will cool with enough time.”

Oh Mother, I thought, You’ve been married to him for decades, and you don’t even know him. Father’s hatred is colder than ice. But I didn’t say anything, only stared at her, watching her equanimity crumble with every second of silence. Her gaze faltered, and she bowed her head.

“I was always so cruel to you, Leveria.” Mother whispered, “I’m so sorry. You’re such a good daughter, such a sweet girl.”

“You never loved me.” I said flatly.

“But I did!” Mother insisted, “I was just… I never wanted to be a mother, and it was only after I’d failed with you that I realized my error. I didn’t love Yavara more than you; I was just better practiced.”

“Or was it because you knew Yavara was not of Father’s blood?”

“No!” Mother said with such fervor that it couldn’t be a lie. She wasn’t that good a liar, “Clartias and I had our differences, but I loved him! How could I know Yavara wasn’t his?! Leveria, you must know in your heart of hearts that I speak the truth about Glendian! Someone in the Noble Court got to him! I never knew I carried the Dark Queen in my womb!”

“Who, Mother?” I demanded, “If it is a plot, then who laid it?” I grabbed the bars between us and glared down at her, “You know how this works, and I hate it as much as you do, but it’s how the world is. You need to point the finger at someone else!”

“Lord Xantian?” Mother climbed to her feet, “Everyone knows he’s had his ambitions set on Tundra silver. A war would increase his chances to claim them by conquest.”

“Xantian is a shrewd businessman, and not one to risk such a gamble.”

“Lady Jonias has always had eyes for Clartias.” Mother spat, “She’s a bold one.”

“Bold and stupid.” I sighed, “I’ve uncovered her ‘plots’ before, though she did very little to keep them concealed.”

“Not Feractian, not Huntiata, and certainly not Straltaira…” Mother puzzled over it, “Droughtius? He’s the field marshal. He would have a lot to gain from war.”

“And his father killed Glendian’s in a duel.”

Mother let out long breath, then said, “Ternias.”

“Your own cousin?”

“You know how he is.” Mother sneered, “Always the smartest man in the room, always so careful. His plots have plots.”

“But what would he have to gain?”

“He’s third in line, though it wasn’t like I stood in his way. Yavara did, but he doesn’t have to worry about her anymore.” Mother snorted, resting her head against the wall, “Still, he’s the only one of them who could’ve pulled it off.”

“Is he?” I asked, “Think, Mother; who has the most to gain from your death?”

“I don’t know!” Mother cried, “I lost my worth the moment I married your father! Ever since then my only value has been my ability to make children!” Mother dropped her head, “And even that, I failed at. Oh, Yavara…” Mother sniffled, “I know I should hate her, but I can’t. You think it’s because I’m a traitor, but it’s just mother’s love. You’ll understand when you have a child.”

I placed a hand on my belly. “Then I’ll reach enlightenment in the winter.”

Mother’s gaze shot to mine, and her face broke into a wide smile. “You’re pregnant?”

I nodded.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mother’s joy was unfeigned and unfettered, “I’m so happy for you and Eric!”

“It’s a boy.”

“Well, you can’t know that yet.” Mother smiled crookedly at me, “Everyone always proclaims it’s a boy, and half are disappointed.”

“But I know.” I said, resting my other hand on my belly, “And I have decided to name him Clartias, after his father.”

“After your father.” Mother corrected with a small laugh.

“Yes, that too.” I chuckled back. Mother laughed with me for a second, then her smile slowly faded. A frown creased her lips when she looked at me, and I stared implacably back. Then her frown unhinged, and her eyes went wide, and I saw in their depths the pieces aligning. Every little suspicion she’d denied and discarded, every whisper she’d decided not to hear, every spot of red lipstick on Father’s collar she decided was the result of a shaving error. They clicked into perfect place behind her eyes, and the mosaic they made was of a horror worse than the gallows or the noose. For I’d taken her past, her very identity, and I’d shattered it. God, it was beautiful.

“No.” She whispered, unable to give voice to the words.

“Yes,” I smiled broadly, “ever since I was fifteen, Father has loved me. Not you, Mother, never you. You were only ever a means to an end for him, and that end was me. I made sure of it.”

“No.” She couldn’t believe it, “No.”

“The truth is always so painful.” I laughed at her, “Though in your case, I suspect the lie is quite excruciating as well. But don’t worry, Mother, I’m here for you.” I pulled the lever beside the door, and the chain that linked Mother’s wrists to the ceiling grew taut. She was forced upright with her hands overhead, and I made sure to crank the lever until her ankles and wrists were white with pressure. Then I opened the door, and dropped my bag of goodies on the floor before her. “You know, I’ve never tortured someone before. I’ve had people tortured, of course; it’s a necessary evil of spycraft, and while it can be gruesome, I’ve found at times that it can also be quite… exhilarating.” I pontificated as I searched my bag, “There’s a sexual aspect to it that people rarely talk about. Oh, people rarely talk about such a taboo subject as it is, but when they do it’s always about the victim. They never talk about the torturers.” I pulled out a knife, and turned to Mother with a broad smile on my face. She just gawked at me, her eyes so wide they seemed to pop from her skull. “The torturers love their victims,” I sauntered over to her, twirling the knife between my fingers, “for they give them unfettered truth.” I stopped before Mother, so close I could nearly taste her breath. “Isn’t that all sex is? A desire to make someone react to you with whole-hearted honesty? Even the most descriptive sonnet cannot translate as much truth as a single breathy moan.” I slid the knife’s blade slowly up her thigh, watching the terror rising in her eyes, “Or one ear-splitting shriek.” I stopped a hair’s breadth from her slit, her womanly heat radiating onto my hand, “Tonight, we are going to be very, very honest with each other, Mother.”

I slashed upward. Mother screamed, but it was only with the expectation of pain. The blade sliced her dress from skirt to bodice, and the sleeveless garment cascaded from her in two halves. Mother was beautiful. Her forty years were barely expressed in the lines on her neck and the subtle drooping of her large breasts, but nowhere else. Her flesh was so white it was nearly porcelain, contrasting beautifully the pink targets of her nipples, and the blush of her womanhood. The hole I’d come from.

“There are many forms of torture besides physical pain.” I said, setting the knife down, “A skilled torturer knows what best to employ for each victim.” I smiled coyly at Mother, “I’m afraid I’m a virgin at this, so please don’t judge my performance too harshly.” I reached behind myself, and undid the lacing on my gown. The garment fell from me in a cascade of silk, revealing a black leather corset that ended above my naval, fishnet stockings, and nothing else. I watched with growing excitement as Mother’s horror turned to revulsion.

“Don’t you think I’m beautiful?” I grinned at her, “I’ve been told by the highest authority in the kingdom that I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.” I reached between Mother’s legs, and gently ran my fingers through her petals. She hissed and tore her gaze away, blinking tears down her cheeks. “Father was my first experience with a man. He showed me so much of what it meant to be a lover. Desire, rage, jealousy, and most of all, power. It only makes sense that you should be my first experience with a woman. Thank you for giving me this.”

I pushed my fingers inside. Mother gasped, her neck striating with cords, her jaw twitching. I breathed excitedly onto her throat as I explored her insides with three digits, savoring the heat of her, the softness, and the wetness.

“I’ve never raped anyone before.” My words were punctuated with breath, “I never understood why such brutish pleasures would appeal to anyone, but now I see. There’s an art to it, isn’t there? You are an orchestra of emotion, and I am the conductor. I will make you play beautiful music.” I pressed myself to her, breast to breast, thigh to thigh, “How weak a woman you are, to lose your husband to your own daughter!” My thumb pressed into her clit, rubbing vigorously until it engorged on its own accord, “What kind of a wife so fails her spouse that he seeks the pleasure of his own child?”

Mother shut her eyes tight, the tears filming at their creases. The muscles in her jaw twitched, but she would not relent a sound.

“The things he did to me, Mother…” I moaned on her throat, “I never said ‘no’ to him. While you laid there like a corpse to take his cock, he was thinking about me consuming him with relish in any hole he so desired, in any way he so desired.” I chuckled lowly, “He even had me chained up like you once, only I wasn’t weeping like a bitch, but begging like a whore!”

Mother gritted her teeth and whined, the tears rolling freely down her cheeks. My fingers were thick with her nectar, coerced by a pleasure she didn’t want, but could not deny.

“And now here you are, trying not to moan as your own daughter rapes you, trying not to come to the idea of her fucking your husband, her father.” My thighs were wet with my arousal, “You’re going to die tomorrow, Mother, so why not enjoy tonight? Stop resisting what your body craves.” I licked her from collar to chin, drawing a wet line up her clenching neck, “Come on, show me the woman who opened her legs for a monster!”

I pushed every finger of my molesting hand into her heat, and felt her close gratefully around me, her moist walls fluttering with glee. Her clit was engorged and red, throbbing wildly under my thumb, but despite it all, she kept her pride. Even when her pelvis contracted, and her belly clenched with ecstasy, all she did was hiss through clenched teeth as she saturated my wrist and thighs with her release.

“I must commend you, Mother.” I said breathily, my vision hazed with my arousal, “You’re stronger than I thought.” I withdrew from her, her petals opening about my retreat, my fingers webbed with her viscous lust, “It’s strange,” I mused, bringing the hand to my face, “I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to a woman before, but you,” I smelled what was on my hand, and shivered, “you’ve awoken something in me. I didn’t think you had anything worth teaching me, but how wrong I was.” I tested my fingers with a tentative lick, then grinned up at her, “You are teaching me so many things I didn’t know about myself.” I walked away, sucking my fingers clean.

I reached into my bag, and pulled out a long syringe. It was filled with purple fluid that bubbled when disturbed. “When I asked my head interrogator about the best ways to torture a woman, he eagerly gave me a list. Most involved inserting sharp hot objects into sensitive places. I told him I needed something more refined. He told me about this,” I turned around and presented the syringe, “succubus blood extract. The Sea Snakes use it on slave cargo bound for the orc empire across the sea. Frightened maidens are loaded in Ardeni, and mindless breed-mares are unloaded in Hektinar.”

I paced methodically toward Mother. “If you don’t open your eyes, I will cut your lids off.” I said quietly. Her eyes crept open, unleashing the flood of tears she’d kept there. I wiped one away with my thumb, and tasted it. “Delicious.” I smirked, then grabbed one of her breasts, and angled the nipple toward myself. She shuddered, her hands clenching to fists above her shackles. “I am deathly curious to see the effects of this.” I said, rubbing my thumb over her nipple until it was hard and moist, “You’re a test run, you see.” I aimed the point of the needle, “If this works how I hope it will, I intend to use it for my espionage program.” I pushed the needle into her nipple, and smiled as she whimpered, “I figure that if a band of filthy pirates can break women with just a chemical, then imagine what I can do with it. What ideas could I plant into a broken mind before building her back up, and sending her on her way?” I depressed the plunger, and looked into Mother’s eyes as they bulged, “Unfortunately for us, I’m afraid there isn’t enough time to build you back up. We only have time for the breaking.”

Mother’s pupils contracted to dots, then expanded to consume her sapphire irises. She convulsed violently in her binds, the chains rattling, her wrists rubbing raw. Her muscles clenched under her silken skin, and she growled and shook as though trying to expel the poison that battled her body. Then she gasped, a sound like a drowning woman’s last breath, and her head fell to her chest, her white-blonde hair curtaining her face. From the hunch of her shoulders, I saw her diaphragm ease to steady, heavy breathing. She relaxed in her binds, her clenched fists opening to splayed fingers. She tilted her face toward me, and upon it was an expression so ravenous and lecherous that it almost took me aback. “What did you do to me?” She whispered.

“Ah, so she does speak.” I giggled, “I was worried that I’d heard your last words. How do you feel?”

“You’ll pay for this, Leveria.” Mother hissed, her voice heavy, “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

“I believe I asked you a question, Mother.” I said, grabbing a nipple, and twisting, “How do you feel?”

Mother screamed, a sound filled with such primal joy that tears welled in her eyes. She shifted in a desperate dance, her body moving in a way I never would have thought possible. Mother was elegant, statuesque and stoic, but within her was the carnal nature every woman possessed, the baser instincts of a bitch in heat to proffer herself for use. Her belly stretched below her presented breasts, her back arched to enhance the bulge of her ass, and her thighs rubbed, desperately trying to quell the craving between them. I twisted her nipple until her eyes were rolling back, then I released.

Mother heaved in desperate breaths, whimpering and moaning in turn. Then, she began to laugh. “All you’ve done is created a vacuum on the throne.” She turned her face upward, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glistening, “Do you think Clartias will stay a bachelor until your coronation? He’ll have to remarry, and whichever wife he chooses will do everything in her power to make sure you never live to see the crown!”

I laughed with her, and pinched her other nipple. “Well whoever the lucky bachelorette is, she’d better hurry; she only has ten hours.” I savored the realization dawning in her eyes, then I twisted with both hands. She shrieked this time, her head whipping back, her hair flailing in an arc behind her. I torqued until her breasts were spiraled with shadows of fat, and the more I tortured her, the more her body bent to me. She pressed her breasts until my knuckles were consumed in the succulence, wanting me to do worse, begging me with everything but her words. I released her, then trailed my fingers down her belly, watching in fascination as her skin prickled beneath my touch, the muscles relaxing in anticipation of the pleasure I might bring. I stroked her abdomen until her cries waned, and she became lax in her binds.

“I am queen of the Highlands in all but name.” I said, “Father abdicated this morning. After you hang, they will put a crown on my head.” I lowered my face to hers, staring into those beautiful dilated eyes, “There is no solace for you, Mother. I am going to get away with everything. All my dreams, all my carefully laid plans, they will all come to fruition tomorrow. My only regret is that you won’t get to see it. But my first act as queen shouldn’t be killing my own mother; the optics would be poor. No, I will be too busy plotting the death of my sister.” I smiled, “When I get my hands on her, I won’t be as gentle as I’m being with you. You, I desire to see humiliated and broken, but her…” I sighed, “I’m afraid I’ll have to build a whole new wing of the dungeon just to service the Dark Queen. I plan to keep her alive for a very, very long time. I’ll tell the nobles that such cruelty is only to dissuade Alkandi from ever coming back, but you and I know the truth of it, don’t we, Mother?”

Mother’s eyes were unfocused, but with a distant voice, she managed to say, “Yes, you will hurt Yavara greatly, Leveria.” Her head flopped forward, and her voice rasped from her, “And she will kill you for it. It’s been so long since Alkandi reigned that we’ve dismissed her legend as myth. We’ve forgotten why we fear the Dark Queen so.” A string of drool hung from the corner of Mother’s mouth, “Your arrogance and hatred will destroy us all in the end. Bentius will burn.”

“Oh, that was creepy.” I laughed, “But I don’t think I’ll frame my foreign policy around the prophecy of a drug-addled convict. Now, where were we? Ah, that’s right,” I reached into my bag, and watched Mother’s eyes widen when I revealed what I’d grabbed, “I was just torturing you.”

Mother was screaming again, the sound so shrill that it was nearly demonic. She was in a contraption called ‘the bowman.’ Two cruel metal clamps bit into her nipples, connected by a chain between her breasts that was drawn like a bowstring, pulled downward by a second chain that clamped to her clitoris; the ‘arrow’ as it were. Using the lever that pulled on her shackled wrists, I systematically drew back the bowman’s bow by making Mother straighten. Her breasts were stretched to conical points aimed at the floor, her nipples reaching the end of their elasticity, and her clit pointing upward like a miniature cock, blood-red with pressure.

“You’re doing so well, just a little bit more!” I encouraged, and cranked the lever once more. Mother sobbed, her thighs rubbing desperately, clear fluid running freely between then. Her head was forced between her outstretched arms as her wrists were pulled higher, her hands coming together at the apex of her extended form. I worried that her shoulders might be rendered from their sockets, but no; the lever stopped at its final position, and Mother’s breath caught her throat. There she was, frozen in a paralysis of immeasurable tension, simultaneously being pulled apart and together. I stared in awe of her, walking carefully around her, daring not to disturb my masterpiece. Her breasts stretched grotesquely, her clit extended perversely, and her face was a portrait of tears smearing her makeup, spit stringing from her chin, and cheeks flushed with agony and ecstasy alike.

“Amazing.” I whispered, circling her, “It’s like every part of you is on the precipice, and just the lightest touch might send you over.” I reached out, and grazed my fingernails down her tense dorsal muscles. Mother whimpered, a sound so full of masochistic delight that it nearly took me, but I restrained my urges. “I could play you like a harp,” I said, stopping before her, staring into her bloodshot, dilated eyes. I hooked one finger under her chain, and plucked it. Mother cried out, her voice rich with ecstasy, her body trembling with it. I plucked it again, only this time I didn’t release right away, but held the chain in my hooked finger, drawing out her torture until she was panting between her screams. I loosed the chain, and her breasts bounced against her chest, her entire body recoiling slightly. Her voiced sputtered back to its sobbing moans, but she didn’t look away from me. She stared at me with big pleading eyes, biting her lip and knitting her brow in a show of complete vulnerability. ‘More?’ The look seemed to say, ‘Will you give me more, please?’ But she wouldn’t give voice to it, not yet. I grinned, and reached into my bag.

The next toy looked like a leather belt, only instead of a buckle, it had six metal close pins. Mother growled and hissed as I took one of her feminine petals and hooked delicate triangles of flesh into the pins. Wrapping the belt around her waist, I stretched one side of her open, causing her to squeal like a stuck sow. She flowed freely from the hole I’d opened, her nectar tinged purple with the poison that was slowly taking her. When I hooked her other lip to the belt, she was trembling from foot to head, her spread pussy was red with desire. A reached forward, and with the lightest of touches, I ran my finger through her open slit. Mother sucked in air, her body going rigid, every part of her focusing on the tip of my finger.

“Oh, you want me to touch you, don’t you?” I whispered, nearly drunk with my power over her.

Mother just stared at me, tense breaths coming from her gaping lips.

“You need to feel flesh on flesh.” I said, never touching her with more than a graze. I lowered my face to her breast, and extended my tongue from my mouth. I flicked her nipple with it, and she purred, her eyes closing in hedonistic splendor. “Tell me you want it,” I breathed on her breast, “and I’ll nurse from you like I did so long ago.”

Mother sucked her lips into her mouth, whining against the words her body wanted her to say. I prodded her clamped nipple back and forth, wetting the tip of it with my spit. Her breasts were in such a state of high tension that her whole chest jiggled with the barest motion of my tongue. Mother’s face became red, then purple. She shook her head this way and that, then with a moan of dismay, her lips tore open, and she screamed, “I WANT IT!”

“Convince me.” I grinned open-mouthed, my tongue still teasing.

“I want my daughter to suck my tits!” Mother sobbed, “I’m a depraved slut who gets off to being chained and tortured by her child, now please!”

“No.” I whispered, and stepped back. The look of despair that crossed Mother’s face burned into my mind. If I could’ve, I would’ve brought an artist with me to paint that moment so that I could cherish it forever. “You didn’t convince me, Mother, I’m sorry.” I said, reaching once again into my bag, “While I believe you want your breasts stimulated, I don’t think you want me to do it.” I pulled out my next instrument. “In your state of mind, I suspect anyone would do. I need you to want me, your daughter, the woman who fucked your husband, who stole your crown, who condemned you to death. I need you to… love me.” I brought the pear-shaped object into view, and twisted the knob at the end of it. The smooth pear opened into six petals, its bloom widening with the twist of my finger. I looked up at Mother. “Maybe this will make you love me.”

It was immediately apparent that Mother had never put anything in her ass. When I spread her supple cheeks, I found the tightest pink little button I’d ever seen. She shook with fear and desire as I wetted the pear with her free-flowing juices, then trailed its tip down her taint, and rested it against her puckered center.

“N-n-n-not there!” She managed to stutter.

“Why not?” I asked with a sardonic smile, applying pressure.

“Because… because…” Her thoughts waned from her as I began to twist against her virgin hole.

“Because it’s from where you shit?” I finished for her, “But I thought the proud and benevolent Trenaria Tiadoa’s shit didn’t stink?” I took a deep whiff of her, “That’s clearly not the case, though between the two of us, Mother, I think you smell delicious.”

“Leveria… please…” Her voice was small and weak.

“There’s no need to be Queen Tiadoa here, Mother.” I spit onto her tailbone, and watched the glob traverse her crack, and center about the pear’s tip. She shivered in arousal from the degradation. “Say you want your baby-girl to fuck your virgin ass, and I’ll do it. Say you don’t want it, and I’ll leave you alone.”

I twisted the pear idly against her anus, watching as her puckered exit twitched hungrily around its tip. Mother’s back shadowed with tension, her legs began to tremble, an escalating whine sounded from her gritted teeth before she finally cried, “I want my baby-girl to fuck my virgin ass!”

I giggled, and pushed in. Her sphincter uncoiled into a taut circle, then enveloped the pear entirely, greedily sucking the girthy end of it into her vile depths and closing about the knob at the bottom. She cried out, her anus pulsing a hair’s breadth from my fingertips as they clutched the knob. But I would not touch her, as tantalizing as her lewd parts were. Not yet. Mother’s breathing was rapt as she waited in torturous anticipation for me to begin. I did. Every degree I cranked the knob, her cries became a little higher, a little shriller. At first, it was all pleasure, but as the petals began to expand, and the elasticity of her rectum reached its limits, I began to hear the pain. I twisted the knob through it all, watching in fascination as her pelvic floor bulged with pressure, as her rectum became a white-rimmed oval glistening against the metallic pear that crowned like a birthing child from her revolting hole. And even as her shrieks of pain became desperate and manic, her pleasure grew, making her scream ‘more!’ as she passed her limits. I obliged, and when the knob would turn no more, Mother reared back her head, and pissed a golden arc onto the floor before her. I gawked at the display, marveling at the intensity of the sensations that would compel her to wallow in such lows. For upon Mother’s face was an expression so rapturous it was like I’d shown in her heaven. Or hell. She was somewhere on the precipice, but I hadn’t quite pushed her over. And as the sensations waned, the simmering desire began to take her once more, the unfulfilled need coming to a boil.

“I’ll do anything,” Mother whimpered, “anything you want, if you just let me come! I’ll be your whore, your toy!”

“Love me, Mother.” I sighed, twisting the opened pear inside her, “Love me as Father loves me, and I will love you in turn.”

“I can’t!” Mother sobbed, rubbing her thighs together. There was such despair in that voice, such longing and regret. Oh, it was sweet. She had been brought to such lows, but I realized that she would need a sacrifice from me to go lower.

“Then I must love you.” I muttered, walking around her body. She was strung like a bow in the tension of her binds, but it paled to the tension beneath her flesh, the desire that wound ever tighter the longer she endured without release. I stepped into the puddle of piss she’d made, and before Mother’s disbelieving eyes, I knelt in it. “This is who I am, Mother.” I said softly, my lips lowering to her splayed pussy, “Yes, I enjoy the pageantry and dignity of royalty as you do, but in secret, I long to wallow in the filth.” My hands gently framed her opened petals, my fingers brushing the pins that bit into her flesh, “I will show you my love. I’ve never tasted a woman before.” I looked up at her, “Please be patient with me while I learn.”

I pressed my mouth to the hole I’d come from, and dipped my tongue inside. I felt Mother relax around me, soothed by the intimacy of skin on skin, the exploring tongue of her own daughter. I slid my hands behind her, and gently squeezed her ass, feeling the suppleness of a woman in my palms, my own mother, moaning for me as I pulled her pelvis forward to kiss her lower lips. And how I kissed them. I formed my mouth around her hole, and circled it with my tongue, listening intently to the pitch of her moans, feeling the shift of her hips. When I found the spot within her, she cried out hoarsely, a sound like a mourn but for the joyous inflection.

“Right there, baby-girl.” Mother whispered above me, “Kiss your mommy right there.” And by the covetousness of her voice, by the sheer desire in it, I knew she’d fallen. For there was no doubt that the she was getting off to me, her daughter, her destroyer; not just the feeling of a tongue in her cunt, but the knowledge of whose it was. “Play with Mommy’s slutty little asshole.” She requested through a moan, “Make Mommy hurt while you eat her used pussy.”

I acquiesced, twisting the knob protruding from her anus, feeling the effects of it on my tongue. She whimpered her thanks, rocking her hips as best she could in her binds, her toes curling. My lips smacked as I rotated my kiss, my eyes staring heatedly upward, my nose pressing into the bottom of her stretched clit. She was looking down at me, her beautiful face framed with her nearly white hair, a look of abject adoration on her face. Almost there. Almost. I parted from her pussy with a peck on her clit, strings of her nectar snapping from my chin, her delicious aftertaste in my mouth. She watched me expectantly as I walked to the wall, reached between the bars, and struck the lever.

Mother collapsed in a heap, her breasts and clitoris retracting from their stretched positions, her body quivering in relief. I took the keyring from my bag, and undid the shackles on her wrists and ankles. The flesh beneath was raw and weeping, but she paid it no heed. She just knelt in her own urine, looking up at me with that expression of adoration, slowly turning to something more.

“I love you.” She hissed, tears running from her eyes, “I hate how much I love you.”

“That’s the only kind of love I give.” I smiled down at her, running my hand through her hair, “Will we love each other tonight?”

“Yes.” Mother whispered, dropping her forehead against my pelvis, breathing on my slit, “I will love you as I have loved no other.”

I lowered myself with her, and soon we were rolling in her waste, our faces in each other’s crotches, our hair matted to our heads. Mother showed me that I hadn’t been her first woman, for her tongue moved expertly within my nethers, and her lips sucked with a sensuality only a mother could bring to her child. I moaned atop her, my body draped in a hedonistic sprawl, sticky with the dried fluids that covered us both.

“How does your daughter’s pussy taste?” I asked as I slowly pulled the pear from her anus.

“It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.” Mother muttered, and pressed her face deeper, the bridge of her nose rubbing against my filthy button. I groaned, watching Mother’s pelvic floor stretch to a tortuous cone about the exiting plug, feeling her heated kiss become more impassioned until the device plopped out of her, and she screamed her gratitude into my depths. Her asshole was gaping and exhausted, contracting to a loose hole that seemed to steam with her desire. I couldn’t resist. I licked down her slit, wrapped my lips around her uncoiled shithole, and sucked. Mother danced beneath me, moaning into my pussy, then returning the favor. I felt Mommy’s lips pucker around my tight little asshole, and suck. Oh, it was good, made only better by the knowledge of who was doing it. I pushed my tongue between my drawling lips, and she did the same, and we each tasted the decadent filth of the other, ravenous in our debasement, gluttonous in our lust.

Then we were face to face, and I was riding her, rubbing my clit against her stretched and engorged member, driving the twin-ended dildo between our slits. Our foreheads connected above our panting lips, our eyes staring our love, our passion, our hatred. Her fingers were in my anus, and mine were in hers, and we placed them in each other’s mouths when we needed to wet them. She was prying me open with three digits from each hand, and I was doing the same, and we were grinning at each other because we both knew how wrong this whole thing was, and we both knew that was why it was so good. The toy between us was soaked with our juices, our clits were red and throbbing, our hearts were fluttering.

“Kiss me.” I whispered on her lips, and she did so without trepidation, giving me her lips and tongue with all the tender love a mother could, sharing the flavor of each other’s holes in our mouths. We rolled in her in piss like animals, and we shared a thing so primal that it couldn’t be put into words. And then, we came. We were screaming when it happened, our bodies driving together in a possessed joining, rivulets of sweat and waste streaming down our faces. Our complexions were flushed, our eyes were locked, our breath was the other’s. We exploded inside each other, the ecstasy coursing like electricity throughout our bodies, compelling us to shake and convulse; hip to hip, thigh to thigh, cunt to cunt, mouth to mouth. And while my climax dwindled, Mother’s only intensified, brought about by an hour of torture, of chemically-induced euphoria that was too great to be held by our species. Her eyes filmed, her voice sputtered out, her body went rigid, and she lost her mind. She just stared vacantly at the ceiling, her body twitching, her pussy spurting. I leaned over her, brushing matted hair from her forehead as she convulsed in sexual seizures.

“Tomorrow, you are going to stand before the citizens of Bentius.” I said softly as she descended back to reality, “You are going to bear the jeers and scorn with all the dignity you can muster. And when you get to the noose, you will see me waiting on the platform. I’ll be with you, dearest mother, when you confess everything I’ve accused you of. I want you to beg for my forgiveness and mercy before all the attendants.”

“Yes.” Mother said, staring vacantly through me, “Will you forgive me? Will you give me mercy?”

I smiled into her eyes. “You know, I think I will.” I laughed to myself, quite surprised with my decision, “You’ll live down here, of course, but I will visit.”

Mother smiled broadly, her vacant eyes glistening. “I would like that. Such a good daughter you are, Leveria. Such a wonderful girl.”

“Yes,” I mused, clinically grabbing her nipple, and injecting her once more, “I suppose I am.”

The next morning, Mother walked into the square. The hateful mob roared as one entity, merciless and vengeful, wanting nothing less than death. To them, the woman that had once been the beloved matriarch of their nation was now a traitor and a whore, not fit to sleep in the outhouse of the seediest Bentius brothel. They never questioned what they were told, or why they were told it. In truth, they didn’t care. They just wanted to see a royal brought to their level. Though Mother was flanked on both sides by guards taller than she, her dress was covered in thrown filth by the time she made it to the scaffolding. I was there, my hands held solemnly before me, my princess’s tiara adorning my head for the last time. When she ascended the steps, she made eye contact with me, and a subtle smile creased her lips. I returned it with an imperceptible nod. The magistrate held up his hand for silence, and the crowd hushed. Then, before the mob in the square, before the nobles in their balconies, and before the king in his tower, Mother confessed to my lie. She did so with glassy eyes, staring vacantly into the distance as if she wasn’t even there. I doubted anyone else noticed the violet tinge to her sclera, nor the way her thighs rubbed together beneath her bulky skirt. When she was finished, she bowed her head, awaiting the magistrate’s judgement. My magistrate, as it were. “Death.” He said. And for one last time, I got to see the look of utter surprise and horror cross my mother’s face. Then they put the black bag over her head, and the noose after it, and without any ceremony, they dropped her. The rope went taut with a snap, and Trenaria Ternias Tiadoa swung limply and dead before the roaring crowd. In their frenzy, I doubt anyone noticed the silver plug shoot out of Mother’s skirts, and bounce into the shadows below the scaffolding.

I sat upon the throne. Glendian unenthusiastically read the scriptures, father pridefully placed the golden crown on my head, and the crowd cheered. I smiled, and raised my hand for silence. I’ve never been a great orator, so I elected for a brief speech instead. Father had advised me to play to my strengths and conceal my weaknesses, so my first address was simply a by-the-numbers proclamation of the strength of the Highlands, how we would overcome the threats, we would come out of this greater than ever, yadda, yadda, yadda.

My first action as queen was to make Glendian burn his journal. After the last physical piece of my lie died, I selected my war council. Field Marshal Droughtius would begin amassing the army, while Head-ranger Adarian would keep Yavara from amassing hers. I already had an extensive web of spies and diplomats, and so I assumed control of the espionage program. What I knew already, I would act upon immediately. Brock Terdini was in the Great Forest with Zander Fredeon. I could cripple my sister with one well-placed arrow.

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