After Kessler's declaration, the entire area around the stage plunged into stunned silence. Even the anonymous people staring at Merrie and the counts froze. It was a deafening quiet, interrupted only by the pounding of Merrie's heart.
Count Blood stepped down the stairs, his thigh brushing against Merrie. “I think we should move this conversation to a more,” he gestured to the crowds that were gathering, “private place. Mard, my tent?”
Rakin's mouth snapped close with a click of his teeth. He spun toward Blood and pointed accusingly at Kessler. “How does he know!? He stole my money, didn't he?”
Kessler took on an insulted look. “I,” he declared, “don't steal and I don't lie.”
He had manipulated Merrie into selling his bitches. She hated him, not only for how he used her, but also from the memories she picked up from Bass. No matter what Kessler said or did, Merrie could never forget Bass' memory of the drowned bitches in the river bed. The merchant had no compassion and no compulsions towards the bottom line. Nothing else mattered to him except money.
But, her hatred for Kessler was thrown into confusion as she stared at the merchant. Kessler looked impassively back at Rakin, unfazed by the count's guards surrounding him or the crowds watching with rapt fascination. She didn't know why Kessler stopped Rakin, but it conflicted with all the evil she saw in the man.
Rakin glanced at Kessler, then back to Blood. “He's lying.”
Count Blood shook his head. “No, he isn't. If Kessler says he doesn't have your money, then he doesn't.”
Rakin shook his head. “No, I don't believe you. He's your man, of course you'd protect him.” The scowling count looked around at the crowds, then down at Merrie. With a start, he lifted his head up to Bass.
Bass, his lips pressed into a tight line and a glare on his face, nodded reluctantly. “He doesn't have your money.” Bass' voice was a growl.
Rakin made a double-take. “You believe him!? You hate him. Grange said so!”
Anger and hatred draped over Bass in a cloud. His arms tightened over his chest. “Yes, I hate Kessler. I hate him more than you can ever know. There is nothing more than I would like to see him cursed to die slowly and painfully.”
A sudden burst of emotions radiated from Kessler. It was fear and dread. Merrie snapped her head to look up, but the emotions clamped off instantly. She couldn't even see a hint of the fear on Kessler's face. It didn't even reach his eyes, but she was sure she felt something from the merchant.
Bass continued. “He is self-centered, egotistical, manipulative, cruel, money-grubbing—”
“Bass….” Kessler hissed through clamped teeth.
“—asshole. But, he is painfully fair and honest. If he says he doesn't have the money, then he doesn't have it. I can promise you that.”
A shiver ran down Merrie's spine. There was anger in Bass' voice, but he didn't make promises lightly.
Rakin stared for a long moment at Bass, then sighed. He turned back on Kessler. “Then where is my money?”
Kessler held out his hands. “I don't know. You had thirty-four million, six hundred twenty-three thousand marks when you were bidding. But between then and the point I saw you coming down the stairs, you did not.”
Rakin turned to his guards. “You and you,” he pointed to two guards, “start looking on the grounds around the whore. The rest of you start searching people for my money.”
Bystanders backed away at Rakin's sharp words.
Count Blood stepped in. “Excuse me, Mard, we have laws here. You can't just strip people on just because you don't have your money.”
“When it is my marks, I can,” came the growl, “I'm a gods damned count!”
“No, you can't.” Blood held up his hands. “You are in my county and we will obey the laws of this country.”
Rakin let out a long breath and dropped a possessive hand on Merrie's shoulder.
She shivered at the anger burning inside him, the connection of their bodies making the images painful as it seared across her mind. She fought back a surge of lust for Rakin; his cock was still hanging out of his pants and she inched her mouth closer.
The count ignored her. “And how do you propose to find my money? Ask people nicely for thirty million in cash? I'm sure they'll hand it right over.”
Merrie noticed a few people slipping back from the crowds, no doubt to look for the money themselves. Others were considering it and she felt the greed ripple through the crowds in a blue-green wave that sickened her.
“Someone stole my money, Waver, and I'm going to get it one way or the other. So, either you help me or get out of my way. If you try to stop me, there will be a lot more blood tonight.”
“Are you threatening me, Mard?”
“Yes.” Rakin's fingers wrapped around Merrie's hair and he pulled her closer. Her mouth caught against his cock and she let out a moan as she tried to suck on it. He glanced down, then turned away to shove himself back into his pants with his spare hand.
As Rakin put himself away, Count Blood thought for a moment, his eyes following some of the people sneaking away. He sighed and raised his hand over his head and snapped his fingers.
A number of men in Blood County uniforms hurried closer.
“Captain Dormit. Take half your men and seal off the fair. Stop anyone trying to leave or go to the camps.” He paused for a moment, obviously disliking the next thing he was going to say. “Pair off with Count Rakin's men and keep tempers calm. There is going to be a lot of upset people and I was to avoid bloodshed. Kessler?”
“Yes, my lord count?”
“I want you to go through the people heading out. Once everyone is gone, we're going to go through the pavilions and stalls. Bass?” Count Blood spoke curtly as he continued to turn until he stared up at Merrie's former trainer.
Bass bowed. “Yes, my lord count?”
“Ask if Eolis know if the duke is here at the fair.”
Bass nodded and disappeared back behind the stage.
Rakin frowned. “Why would Duke Natis be here?”
Blood glanced over at the crowds, then leaned toward Rakin. “Last year, I found out that the duke sneaked into the fair disguised as one of the common folk.”
“Really?” Rakin's voice had dropped to a whisper. “Are you sure?”
“Ever wonder how he know about Count Tassin's uprising before Tassin did?”
“Damn, that is pretty sneaky. How did you find out?”
Count Blood beamed happily. “My little Diffy saw through his disguise. I didn't say anything, but if he is here, we can get a decree that would help with looking for your money.”
“Waver?” Rakin jammed his fingers against Merrie's scalp and ground her into his thigh. She felt a flash of heat at his presence, a hunger to be with him and the feeling of being dominated by the cruel man. Even the hope that he wouldn't find the money was nothing compared to the lust she felt from him removing the iron collar. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because, Mard,” Count Blood focused a sharp gaze at Rakin and his voice lowered, “you threatened my people. And, unlike you, I care about them. And I will help you look, but when this is over, you and I are going to have a lot of words about your attitude at my fair.”
Rakin's lips pressed into a thin line. “I'm a count. It is in my right—”
“You threatened my people. I don't want to ever see you at my fair again.”
“You can't stop me, Waver.”
“I can if the duke gets involved.”
“You wouldn't dare,” hissed Rakin.
“Yes, I would.” Count Blood turned as Eolis stepped up to the back stairs. “Eolis?”
The other thriban stepped down the stairs, his eyes scanning the people arrayed at the bottom. “Is it serious?”
“Yes,” snapped Rakin, “someone stole my money.”
“Did you actually have it?”
Rakin's mouth gaped open and his fingers dug into Merrie's head, fingernails pressing into the flesh. She whimpered and moaned at the same time.
“Yes,” said Kessler quietly, “he did when he was bidding. He does not now.”
Eolis looked at the curious people surrounding them and shook his head. He walked down the stairs and the wood creaked from his weight. “That is both good and bad. But, we have rules about auctions. If you can't produce the money during the transaction, it is in Count Blood's right to have you arrested.”
Rakin's face darkened. “He can't arrest me, I'm a damn count!”
“Yes, that would be a problem, wouldn't it?” Eolis wasn't smiling and a low rumble vibrated in his chest. “Which means you better come up with the money in a hurry.”
“Is,” Count Blood cleared his throat, “is the duke here?”
“He is not.”
Merrie's ears perked up as she heard the lie. Eolis' thoughts were guarded, but for a brief moment, she pictured an old man getting out of Eolis' wagon a few miles away from the fair. Merrie had never seen him before, but the duke had bright green eyes and almost no hair. His left hand was withered but he clutched a carved staff tightly between his blackened fingers. Despair rose up inside her, she hadn't seen the duke at all while she was walking around the fair.
“Damn,” muttered Count Blood. “I was hoping. All right, let's go. Why don't we let our people look for your money and relocate to my tent?”
“No,” Rakin said as he ground Merrie's head against his thigh. “I'm going to my tent.”
Bass cleared his throat. “You haven't bought her.”
“Like hell I'm going to leave her with you, Bass. If you get her back, I know you'll take her back to the mill.”
“Well, you know where it is,” came the bitter reply, “I'm sure you'll bring a second army if I leave.”
“She isn't going with you.”
“She isn't yours!” Bass' roar cut through the air.
“She is, Bass, and you better accept it. I get to do whatever I want to your alpha and there is nothing I can do about it.”
Merrie whimpered at the images flashing through his mind. He was fantasizing about bolting her to the wall in a bathroom, forcing her to become a toilet slave for months if not years. She shivered against his body, fighting the urge to wrap her arm around his leg to bring his cock closer to her mouth and hating every second of it.
“If you two are done pissing on each other,” Eolis said, “you are going to put the alpha in my wagon as escrow.”
“What?” Rakin asked. “We're doing what?”
“My wagon, now.” Eolis stepped forward and raised his hands to address the crowds. “All bitch auction transitions will complete at my wagon in thirty minutes. If you are not there, you don't have your money, or you are missing a bitch, plan on being arrested.”
He turned back and barked out a sharp command. “Bring the alpha now. Your men have four hours to find Count Rakin's money.”
Rakin grumbled and then shot out commands. Count Blood gave orders of his own and both groups of mean spread out.
Merrie whimpered as she looked up at Rakin. She wanted him, she craved for his cock and his orders, but she was terrified at the look on his face. He wanted to kill someone but there was no one to vent his rage or frustration. If he managed to find his money, she would bear the brunt of his anger. Tears burned in her eyes as she pictured the things he would do to her. But, even as she was terrified of the count, she also lusted after him. She wanted him, needed him. She would do anything to wrap her lips or pussy around his cock one last time.
Bass stopped next to Rakin. “Come on,” he growled.
“After you,” responded Rakin as he clutched Merrie tighter to his leg. He turned away from Bass, forcing Merrie to crawl along the ground away from her former master.
Bass rumbled in his chest, but strode forward. Tabitha bounded after him, her naked body still soaked in blood and her wrists bound behind her back. There was a casual way the shapeshifter moved that told Merrie that the bounds wouldn't stop her.
It gave Merrie hope, knowing that Tabitha would fight if Merrie could somehow escape Rakin.
It only took a few minutes to reach Eolis' wagon. It was a massive wooden vehicle that dominated a clearing in the fields. Ten large horses, all of them larger than Bass, were tethered at one end as they eat greedily from a large trough of food and drank from another trough larger than Bass' tub. The wagon was larger than the horses and Merrie wondered if they could actually pull anything that large even along the road.
Merrie was almost blinded by energy that rolled off both the wagons and the horses. There were dozens of spells and wards covering every inch. Each of the wooden planks on the wagon was inscribed with runes she could only see with her mind's eye. Strands of power anchored the wagon to the ground.
More spells were burned into the ground around the wagon in concentric circles. She saw three lines of wards and the power of each one was killing the grass in neat circles. She hesitated at the first ward, afraid of being shocked. Rakin dragged her across using her hair as a leash. She cringed, waiting for a lashing of power, but she felt only a tingle of power as she crossed the threshold.
Eolis walked them around the back end of the wagon. On the far side, sheltered from the noise and lights, was a small camp site. It has a small banked fire, a pot sitting on a rock near it. A young man, wearing a simple shirt and shorts, stood up as Eolis came around. “Oh, I'm sorry…” his voice trailed off as the others followed. He put a book behind his back to hide it.
“Don't worry,” Eolis said with a grim smile, “they aren't here for long. Just stay out of the way.”
“Y-Yes, sir.” The man bowed and ducked out of the way.
Merrie followed him with her eyes. She could feel a submissive streak in the young man. He had a familiar hunger to be dominated but it was focused purely on Eolis. She glanced over at Eolis who didn't seem to notice her, but her body grew warmer at the idea of Eolis' massive frame hulking over the young man.
On the other side of the wagon, there were four doors, each one shackled with iron bands and a large black square where a lock would be. Three of them were narrow and situated near the front of the wagon. The rooms behind them couldn't be more than a few meters across. The fourth one was right in the center and Merrie could imagine it having a five meter wide room behind it.
Eolis stopped at the center of the narrow doors. He slapped his hand against the black square. Magic flared around it, acidic and powerful. It crackled along his body, but then a loud crack noise filled the air.
Merrie jerked at the sound and the flash of power that radiated from the door.
The door swung open and Eolis jammed his thick fingers in the crack to pull it all the wide open.
Merrie lifted her body to look inside, but she couldn't see into the shadows. She caught sight of a few boxes, but then Rakin pushed her down. She caught her breath, listening to her pounding in her ears as his hand ground her down. The domination brought a whimper to her throat which only encouraged him to push her harder.
“If you would be so kind, Count Rakin,” Eolis said as he turned around. “I want the alpha in here.” The thriban gestured to the room.
Rakin wrapped his hand around Merrie's hair and pulled hard. Merrie let out a cry as she clutched at her hair, but her severed wrists slid helplessly against Rakin's arm. She was consumed by helplessness, which added to the pain of being dragged and ignited a heated fury inside her pussy. She couldn't stop him, she never would be able to stop him.
When Rakin threw her at Eolis' feet, Merrie curled into a ball and ground her wrists between her legs. Her pussy was soaking wet, heated by her helplessness and the lust she felt for Rakin's body. She hated and lusted after him but her body could only response with a hungry need for his cock.
Eolis crouched over her. “It's okay, girl. I'm just going to lock you in here until we can figure this out. You'll be safe from everyone.”
Merrie forced herself to look up in Eolis' eyes. They were larger than Bass' and she could see little red flecks in his yellow gaze. He was huge as he loomed over her, a primal man barely contained in his black suit. She was a vulnerable animal to anything he wanted her to do. With a soft whimper, she ground her arms against her pussy as fresh juices soaked her arms.
“I'm going to pick you up now,” Eolis whispered and reached down. His large hands scooped Merrie up.
Heart pounding in her chest, she plastered her body against his chest and leaned into him. She could hear his heart in his chest, a steady thump that shook her body.
His fingers were thick and his thumbs curled over her hips as his fingertips slid along her soaked arms. He gripped her rightly as he lifted her off the ground. He spun her around and set her down on the threshold of the room.
When his thick arms pulled away, she blinked at the sense of being abandoned. She stared into the room. It was only two meters across and four meters long. Along both sides were long, narrow boxes with locks on them. Each lock had the Blood County seal on it, a sword with a single droplet of blood on it.
“Those are the county taxes. Needless to say,” Eolis said with a chuckle, “don't open them. But, with your hands, I don't think that will be a problem.”
He reached in and pulled a canvas tarp from the top of one of the boxes. It slid off with a scrape of coarse fabric and slumped to the ground. “This isn't comfortable, but its going to be a few hours. Will you be okay?”
Merrie looked at the tiny, cramped room. It was like being in a cage. She shivered at the thought of the helplessness and the confinement. Slowly, she nodded to Eolis.
“Good girl, that's what Bass says, right?”
She gave him a sheepish smile and nodded.
“Good girl.”
Merrie's pussy clenched at the rumbling words. She watched with wide eyes as the door closed and her world was plunged into darkness and silence. Magic rippled along the walls of the room, but it didn't shine inside. Instead, it was a flickering presence that she couldn't miss even if she closed her eyes.
She gave a hesitant whimper, but the sound only echoed in the cramped quarters. Inching forward, Merrie reached out for the door. The wood was warm, but she felt a tingle of the wards against her wrist. It was a sick feeling, like a snake about to strike. She yanked her hand back and stumbled back.
Trembling, she glanced around at the room. The wards crackled against her senses, a burning sensation that muted her quickly fading lust. She lowered her head to the ground and fumbled with the canvas tarp. It was hard to shift it in the dark, but soon she managed to make a makeshift bed out of the rough fabric. With a sigh, she sank down on the musty fabric.
Time passed, but she couldn't tell how long. There was nothing but the pulse of her heart and the long darkness that surrounded her. Alone with her thoughts, she played over when Rakin removed her collar. She couldn't think about anything else but that initial rush of excitement and the hunger kept drawing her mind.
The need grew too much. She rolled on her back and spread her legs. In the darkness, she imagined Rakin kneeling between her legs. His hands reached out for her, not to caress her breasts or to tease her pussy, but to wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze.
Merrie arched her back at the imaginary lover. She couldn't help but hunger for the imaginary cock about to impale her. She brought one severed arm against the “V” of her legs and stroked back and forth. She could never masturbate in the cage or with the collar, but she knew an orgasm would cum if she stroked herself.
She didn't have fingers anymore. She couldn't roll her fingers along her clitoris or plunge into her pussy. The only thing she could do was rub the length for her arm along her soaked pussy. For a moment, she wondered if she would ever be able to masturbate again, but then the familiar heat came rushing up. She was a bitch and her orgasms would always come easily.
Relieved, she planted the ends of her legs into the canvas, using the folds of fabric pinned by her weight so she could force her hips up off the ground. Her weight settled on the ends and her shoulders, a spark of pain mixing in with the pleasure. She used both arms to rub against her pussy, sliding back and forth with wet, slurping noises.
In her mind, she thought of Rakin. She wanted to fantasize about Bass, Borias, even Tabitha, but there was only the count burned in her mind. She knew how he would fuck her in that position, jamming his hips between her legs and shoving his cock into her pussy.
Her body clenched at the imagined penetrate. But, it was too delicate for Rakin. He would hurt her. She imagined him reached out with his hands, not to grab her breasts or hips, but to wrap fingers around her throat.
She gasped, then forced herself not to breathe. Rakin wouldn't give her that freedom. He would choke her. Her mouth opened, she stroked harder as the juices sopped up her arms. It dribbled down to her elbows as she pumped harder and faster. She could feel an orgasm coming, ginger and delicate as if she wasn't sure she could make herself come again.
The imaginary Rakin's thumbs bore down on her windpipe and a flash of heat coursed through her body. She arched her back up more, wishing it was the real cock pounding into her pussy. She wished that he was choking her, not her pretending to be choked as she pumped as frantically as possible. More juices dribbled down her arms, soaking her hard belly and pooling against her breasts.
Her sobs echoed in the tiny room. The sound of it reminded her that she wasn't really being choked. Her orgasm faltered, but she focused hard on the sensation of not breathing and having a cock pounding into her pussy.
With a frantic jerk, she finally came. It was her first orgasm from her own efforts in weeks. She jerked violently on the canvas. The smooth end of her right leg slipped out of the fold and she came crashing down. She didn't care as she rolled over the musty fabric, sobbing and shaking as the pleasure tore through her.
She slumped against the canvas, her arms ground against her soaked pussy, and drifted into the cum-soaked afterglow of an orgasm. She couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed, the magic shone through her eyes no mater what she dead. Her breath was loud in the cramped quarters and she focused on her breasts as her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths. She was intimate familiar with her body, more so than she had ever been before. She knew every centimeter, every millimeter. It was a comfort, knowing how she would respond. No matter how much she feared Rakin, she was absolutely sure that he would make her come.
It terrified her. The afterglow cracked underneath the realization that it was only minutes before they found Rakin's money. The brief reprieve was just a tease, a pause before the real horror began.
Merrie needed comfort. She reached out with her mind, not looking for anyone besides bitches. She felt them but none of them could give her the comfort she wanted. She pushed out further, looking for Sable. She found her, but Sable's thoughts were on the edge of Merrie's senses, fading in and out as the alpha concentrated on something.
Withdrawing, Merrie reached out for Dixie. The other alpha was moving away from Merrie but still within range. (Dixie?)
(Done jilling?)
A flush of humiliation rose inside her. (H-How did you know?)
Wry amusement. (That's what all bitches do when they get the collar off.) His voice faded for a moment and then came back.
(Even you?)
(Every time I don't have a bitch to dominate. Sable does the same. We all do.)
Merrie couldn't help but smile in the darkness. (I'm done. I just needed to hear someone, a familiar voice one last time.)
(Well, I'll give you my thoughts as long as I can, but no promises. We are making good time to Count Blood's fortress.)
(We?)
The wagon rushed along a pitch-black trail in a pool of light. The horses were lathered and frantic as Ebony's husband whipped them into movement. A globe of mage light hung between the two horses, creating a pool of light barely large enough for a few seconds advance warning. The cracks and weeds along the trail rushed past with dizzying speed.
It would be dangerous if Dixie wasn't leading the way, his supernatural senses picking out dangers in the darkness. He raced a few meters ahead, barking out warnings.
Behind the wagon, one of Count Blood's guards followed on wagon. She rode in the light of another globe hanging from the back of the wagon. She didn't want to be there, but Dixie picked her out. She was a knife fighter and a former thief, capable of sneaking in the darkness and with just a hint of silfae blood running through her veins.
Dixie had fucked her once, not as a bitch but as a gift for services well done for the count. He liked her taste, even though there would be no fucking that night. He had a job to do and he would protect Ebony and her children with both of their lives.
Merrie gasped with the feeling of ice water in her veins. (What happened?)
(Rakin has hurt the pack too many times and he is vengeful. Right now, his men are stripping people and tearing apart stalls. Blood's men are doing everything they can to avoid it turning into a full out slaughter, but it is getting violent out there. With his money being stolen, Rakin will do anything to get you. If he can't, he might take it out on people precious to Bass. So, I'm making sure Ebony is safe. I'd rather she go back to the mill, but neither Bass nor Ebony will allow that. So, we are taking her to Blood's. Not even Rakin would try to get revenge on the count's private lands.)
(Why would the mill be better? Grange got in before.)
Anger snapped through the connection. (You try to maintain wards for twenty years. It had been ten years since the last attack and my mistress…) his thoughts trailed off, and then came back calmer. (Sorry, my mistress has been beating herself up ever since Grange. Wards, like fences, need to be maintained. Over the years, little holes and rips had eroded them and even the patch fixing she did in the days after Grange left wasn't enough. In the last six weeks, Borias and my mistress had been rebuilding them and they are strong enough to stop an army.)
His thoughts grew faded for a long moment, and then came back. Merrie strained to keep the connection apart, pushing energy down until it came back hazily. (Dixie?)
(Yes?)
(Thank you. Thank you for everything. I… I could have never been me without you.)
A wave of love, sharp and bitter as Tabitha's cruel affections. (We both love you, Merrie. As much as you have to go, you have brought us great—) And then he ran out of range.
Merrie sniffed at the sudden tears. She wiped her face, breathing the scent of her pussy. She considered stroking herself again, but didn't. She listened to her breathing for a long moment as she considered her options.
Rakin terrified her, even as she lusted after him. The curse of Rendi's collar still burned on her mind and she felt her body growing hot at the thought of him pinning her to the ground.
It was hard to think about anything other than Rakin, but Merrie forced herself to concentrate. She needed a different master. She needed to find some way to freeing herself from the despair and dread that waited for her.
She thought about the image she picked from Eolis, of the old man getting off the wagon. It was the duke. He could stop Rakin and his men. She couldn't do anything else, but she could find him.
Merrie reached out with her mind, scanning around but she found it hard to focus on anything but other bitches. With a sigh, she stopped and tried again but her mind refused to concentrate on anything but the lust burning inside her.
With a disgusted sigh, she picked herself up. Shifting to her knees, she spread her legs until the canvas tickled her sex. She brought her hands up to her neck, wishing she could feel the heavy iron collar again. As soon as she settled into place, she let out a sigh. It was a comforting position and she found it slightly easier to concentrate.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the image she saw of the old man. She could find him, she knew she could. She reached out with her mind, struggling to ignore bitches and submissives.
The world spun around her and she felt her body growing smaller, shrinking into the six year-old self sitting on her grandfather's lap. He was fingering her, the long digits sliding deep into her pussy and igniting the the adult lust in the girl body. His other arm was around her neck, pinning her against his chest as he pulled back.
She clawed at his arm, trying to free herself as tears ran down her cheeks. The hot summer air rushed along her pussy, adding to moist heat that gathered around her.
He pulled her back and his large cock slid down her slit, leaving a slimy trail against her young skin.
“No!” screamed Merrie. She flailed violently back and forth. She couldn't let her grandfather rape her. She hated what Haviston had done to her, to her memory. She didn't want to remember her grandfather that way. She wanted to be a woman, a full-grown woman and not a little girl.
Her body twisted underneath him. For a brief moment, she could almost feel herself growing on him but then she felt pressure grinding her back down, forcing her into the young form once again.
"Stop resisting, little one. Just accept your lesson."
“No! No! No!” Merrie struggled with weak arms and legs. She tried to regain the feeling of being a woman once again. It was hard, she could feel the pressure of Haviston bearing down on her. He was making her young, forcing her to suffer at her grandfather's hands.
He positioned his cock at her entrance, the slick head sliding back and forth along her pussy lips. With a grunt, he slammed her down and she let out a scream as his cock impaled her to the hilt.
She pushed out, not with her frail physical form, but with her mind. She wanted to be a woman, not a girl. She could handle her grandfather with the body and mind that Bass had trained.
The pressure increased until it sent agony splitting across. Her legs grew over her grandfather's thighs. The pressure of the cock faded as her adult pussy wrapped around it. Haviston's spell grew painful around her thoughts, the pressure to force her down ripping through her senses. Merrie took everything she could against it, remembering every centimeter of her body. She was a bitch. She knew her body and how it responded. A cock was a cock to her now, and nothing the horrid thing raping her.
With a lurch, Haviston's spell cracked. With a rush, she was back in her adult form, amputated at the wrists and ankles. She was a helpless bitch once again and she was never releived.
*Her grandfather wrapped around to grab her breasts, squeezing them tightly as he pounding his cock into her. “Damn you,” he whispered into her ear. “Damn you to the hells.”
Merrie let out a gasp and bore down, clamping her inner muscles around the hardness as he pumped into her. She bore down, lifting and dropping herself on the shaft until she felt it surging inside her. Wet splatter of sum filled her, soaking her insides and she let out a tiny orgasm.
Her grandfather slumped back, panting. "You ruined the lesson."
Merrie looked over her shoulder at the old man. It tore her heart to know it was her grandfather buried inside her, the last few surges of cum soaking her insides. "I don't want to be a girl anymore."
Her grandfather sighed. "Then the lessons will get harder."
He paused, as if giving her a chance to go back to the way it was. She felt the pressure from Haviston's spell. It would force her back into her six year old frame. One sickening rape for every lesson.
She couldn't face another lesson that way again. "No."
For a moment, there was a brief smile of triumph. Then, he spoke on Haviston's voice. “So shall it be.” He reached up for her.
Merrie flinched, but her grandfather grabbed her breast. His finger caught her nipple, crushing it against his finger. She squirmed at the touch, the pleasure and pain mixing. Her pussy clamped around his growing cock and she sank down against his chest.
Her grandfather reached out with his other hand and held his fist in front of her. He opened his fingers. In his palm, seven runes pulsed dully. They weren't a spell, but parts of ones. She recognized two of the runes from the other spells but the other five were new.
“Memorize them,” ordered her grandfather in his familiar voice.
She stared at them, trying to burn them into her memory. "How do they… how do I use them?"
“You didn't want those lessons, remember?” His breath was hot against her ear. "If you do, just become my little girl again."
She shuddered with revulsion. "No."
"Then memorize them and figure out how they work together."
She held herself still and concentrated on the runes. They were complicated but as she stared at them, they burned into her mind. She could never forget them. They felt familiar, natural, and she could see how they linked to each other in a complicated pattern just like the other spells.
She inhaled and realized she was back in the darkness of Eolis' wagon. Her body trembled with the effort to break Haviston's control over her, but she felt elation at the remembered pressure of her grandfather's cock in her pussy, not as a little girl but as a full-grown bitch.
(You are ahead of schedule,) came Haviston's thoughts, (I wasn't planning on you breaking free of the little girl compulsion for at least a week.)
(Y-You knew I would do that?)
(Of course,) came the monotone response, (I'm teaching you.)
(How do I put the runes together?)
(Figure it out yourself, Merrie Golddother. It would negate the lesson if I just gave it to you.)
(I don't know how!) But even as she projected the thought, she knew parts of the spell already. The runes were there, begging to be arranged together.
(Really?) asked Haviston as he withdrew his thoughts.
Merrie sent a single pulse of hatred at him before she concentrated on the spell. She was looking to find the duke, which gave her a focus. She started with the runes, hoping that Haviston gave her everything. The pattern was difficult because she didn't know what she was doing, but she had to help herself.
It felt like hours later when the spell finally settled into place. It was a search spell, a detection spell. It formed in a circle. In the center would be the thing she was looking for. Her heart thumped loudly as she placed the stolen memory into the circle, the old man crawling out of the wagon. It settled into place with the sensation of a cock being rammed home. With a gasp, she pushed energy through the spell, terrified it would crumble.
It held.
Encouraged, she thrust more energy into it, charging up the pattern until it grew bright and then releasing it. It exploded out of her in a wave of power, spreading out like a ripple in a wave. Moments later, it faded without finding the old man.
She had to focus it in a single direction. Take a deep breath, she adjusted the spell to look in only a single direction and tried again. It rippled out but came back negative. She tried again and again. Slowly, she turned on her knees as she sought the old man. She could feel it stretch far across the fair, but nothing came back.
After two full turns, she was trembling from the exertion and gasping in despair. She couldn't find him. She didn't know if she was doing the spell wrong but she couldn't find it. She knew who to ask, but she didn't know if he would help.
(Haviston?)
(Yes?)
(Could you help me?)
(Why?)
(Because I can't find him. Is this spell right?) She projected the spell she created.
For a long moment, he didn't respond. Then, she felt his mind reaching into her spell, adjusting it slightly. (It is correct, but what you are looking for is not within range.)
(He has to be! I have to be doing something wrong.)
(You are not but you are doing it correctly.)
(But…) she wiped the tears from her face, (who is going to save me?)
(No one. No one is ever going to save you, Merrie Golddother.)