The wagon continued to bounce and jostle Merrie along a long, rough trail. She could tell they were moving up from the tilt that pressed her toward the pile of bodies at the back off the wagon and the way the two men grunted with the effort.
The anticipation was worse. She wanted to do something, not wait. It didn't matter if it was running away or killing the two men. However, she made her promise to Parn and there was a way of surviving this without using magic. She just had to wait.
“I can't… imagine that Rat would die,” said one of the men. He was slightly out off breath.
“Everyone dies, Jale. Even the mighty Rat. More so in this damn prison.”
“What's going to happen to the bar?”
“You mean the smoking hole where the bar used to be?”
“Yeah, that,” Jale grunted. The wagon jerked to the side. “Come on, Pirlin, keep going.”
Pirlin grunted, “Yeah, yeah. We're almost there. Just a hundred more meters and we can dump these corpses and get the hell out of here. These damn plants give me the creeps.”
The wagon continued slowly, both men straining to pull it.
Then Jale broke the silence. “I want to fuck her face.”
“With a corpse? That's disgusting.”
“No, her eyes. I want to fuck that eye socket of hers.”
Pirlin must have thrown down the end of the wagon because Merrie was tossed toward the front. The naked body of Rat slumped against her, the strange smell of chaos magic surrounding both of them. It was almost like a fruit drink but where the different flavors refused to mix together. The scent of death permeated everything, a cloying scent that tickled Merrie's nostrils.
“You want to fuck Rat's eye? What is wrong with you?”
“She's dead and I bet it's still soft.” Jale seemed excited. Merrie fought to keep her own expressions from her face, she wasn't entirely bothered by sex with the dead though she preferred when she just played dead for her customers back when she whored.
“You don't fuck with the dead. Not here, not in Abbinkey.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Bad things happen with dead people here. That's what happened earlier, when all the prisoners died. The dead, they started to rise up and ate everyone.”
“Bullshit. That is just stories they tell the fresh meat to avoid pissing off the guards, the demons, or the psycho plant guy. Besides, you've seen Rat. She's got a fucking sexy body. Short, tits, and by the gods above, I've wanted to pound that ass since I got here.”
“You… I….” Pirlin sputtered. “Don't do it. It's gross.”
Jale groaned. “Get off your high horse, I saw you feeling up that naked dog chick when you threw her on the wagon.”
Merrie's skin crawled for a moment but it wasn't from disgust but more of a wish that she could have been aware to enjoy it. The idea of being a helpless body with a man shoving his fingers into her holes brought a little rush of fantasy coursing through her veins. She started to smile.
(Play dead,) came the echoing command from Zillia.
Merrie's face went blank but the heat inside her redoubled. The unexpected command turned her insides liquid and her pussy tingled with anticipation. A ripple of pleasure raced along her senses and her breath quickened until she managed to clamp down on herself.
Zillia fluttered across her skin before tightening around her pussy and breasts. The pressure against her lower lips banked the flames but didn't extinguish them.
“Yes, felt up. Palmed a tit. Not shoved my dick into her neck hole. I beat you were thinking about that, weren't you?”
Jale chuckled. “I had forgotten about that. That would be—”
“No, no, no,” Pirlin said. “You do that but I'm heading down right now. I might be a murderer and a rapist but… no. There are some lines.”
“Don't be a pussy. Let me get her up there and you can head on down while I have some fun. Don't worry, I won't be long. I've been thinking about skull-fucking Rat for a hour—”
Pirlin made a disgusted noise. “We're close enough, you finish hauling the bodies. I'm going home now.” His boots crunched on the road before Merrie heard him hurrying back down the path.
“Well… what a fucking pussy,” grumbled Pirlin.
There was silence for a moment. Then Pirlin came around. “Well, time for a little loving I think.”
Rough hands dug into the wagon, patting around Merrie's body. Zillia had her wrapped tightly but she could still feel the probing fingers before Pirlin moved over to grab Rat's corpse. “There's my pretty cunt,” he said before yanking on the body.
The nearly naked corpse slid along Merrie, dragging her closer to the side of the wagon as Rat was pulled free. Behind it was the burn of the magical light hanging above the corpses. The pain was gracefully short as more bodies slid against her and blotted out the light. Their heavy weight thudded against Merrie and drove her hard against the side of the wagon.
Even pinned against the side, she could look through the gaps in the side of the wagon as Pirlin positioned Rat's body on the ground. The magical lantern still lit up everyone painfully bright but she could see through the tears in her eyes. There wasn't anything else she could do but look with Zillia's command echoing in her head.
He was a heavyset man with a large gut and powerful muscles along his arms and legs. His long beard waved back and forth as he grabbed Rat's hair—the luxurious black strands wrapped around his fingers—and he pulled her to the wagon wheel to prop her up against it.
“Yeah, that's a pretty bitch,” he muttered to himself as he fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. One by one, they popped open before he fished his cock out. It was long and somewhat slender. The tip had an arrow-like head and it was dripping with his excitement.
Grabbing Rat's head with one hand, he lined up his shaft with the bloody hole where her left eye used to go. He let out a groan of lust as he slowly sank it into the opening. “Oh, fuck.”
Merrie imagined herself in the same position, her body slack and unable to respond but to still be able to feel as the cock slid into her skull. A flash of heat ignited inside her, flooding her body with pleasure as she focused on the man raping Rat's skull.
“Fuck,” he gasped as he reached halfway before hitting resistance. No doubt the bone in the back of the eye socket.
“Always wanted to pop an eye cherry.” He stroked her head. “Don't worry, daddy is going to bust you open.”
Pulling back, he drove into her again and again, his balls smacking against her cheek and nose as his pubis hair tickled her forehead. He groaned and gripped the side of the wagon tightly. When his hips thrust forward, he crushed the body against the wheel.
Merrie fought back the moans as the entire wagon shook with his thrusts. His cock slammed into her eye socket and she wanted to feel it in her own, to have that thick shaft sliding deep into the wrong hole. It was wrong, it was disgusting, but it was also turning her own.
Zillia, reading her thoughts, began to stroke her pussy. (Don't let him know you are alive,) commanded the cloak even as the tendrils of darkness penetrated Merrie.
Merrie's insides clamped around the wiggling tendril as she lost herself in the fantasy. Every thrust shook the wagon and her world. Every thrust of the glistening cock into the gaping eye socket brought a flutter of pleasure.
Zillia flowed deeper into her body, stretching and expanding its darkness inside her until it felt like a cock pounding into her pussy in time with the powerful strokes of the skull-raping next to her.
Between one stroke and the other, Pirlin's cock suddenly surged deep into Rat's skull. The base of his cock slammed against her face.
He let out a cry of pleasure and pain. His hands released the wagon to grab the corpse's head, almost crushing it as he shuddered violently. “F-Fuck, fuck!” he gasped.
Even from a distance, Merrie could see his balls twitching as he pumped cum directly into Rat's brain. His cock plugged the opening of her skull and Merrie could almost imagine it flooding through the forbidden opening.
It was raw and exhilarating, a forbidden action played out in front of her.
She almost let out a whimper before an orgasm through through her. She desperately wanted to stroke her pussy, to enjoy the pleasure Pirlin was getting out of Rat's corpse. Zillia's order kept her silent but the helplessness only magnified her orgasm that raged through her body.
With a groan, Pirlin relaxed his grip. Rat's hair clung to his fingers as he spread his fingers wide. Sweat glistened on his brow.
Merrie focused on his thick cock as it slipped out of her skull. His shaft glistened with a rainbow sheen. He slowly stepped back. The thick veins resisted before sliding out.
Then his cock head rested into the opening of her skull. Around it, a flood of cum and rainbow blood sprayed out across his legs and abdomen. It dribbled down her face and dripped off her lips before splashing to her breasts.
Panting, he staggered back. “You were a fucking bitch, but a great lay.”
Reaching down, he grabbed his shaft and pumped it a few times. When he pulled his hand up, he looked at the oily sheen that covered his grip. “What the hell?”
After a moment of staring, he shrugged. He grinned and his cock twitched before growing thicker with his thoughts.
Merrie felt a quiver of anticipation. He was thinking about her.
Slowly, Pirlin lifted his gaze to the wagon. “Now, where is that other pretty cunt? I've never fucked a neck before.”
His shaft jumped and fresh pre-cum dripped from the tip. With a grin, he reached into the wagon. “Where you, little dog girl?”
His thick fingers dug around the corpses as if they were no more than garbage bags. He grabbed Merrie's shoulder tightly. “Oh, come here, Beautiful.”
(Play dead,) came the order rippling through her connection.
With an orgasm simmering inside her body, Merrie let her muscles grew slack and her breathing stop. Little prickles of excitement ran through her veins; given that she was made of shadows and probably didn't need it, but her body still had the habit of breathing. However, the order took precedence and her lungs grew still.
He shook her a few times and then pried her body out. A corpse caught her head, bending it back until her throat was exposed. Slowly, it slid up to her chin.
“Oh, I'm going to fuck both ends….”
He stopped pulling her.
“Weren't you decapitated when I started?” His voice brimmed with a sudden worry. He pulled her body, treating her as nothing more than a hunk of meat.
A orgasm rippled through Merrie. She struggled to keep her body from responding.
The last corpse slid off her head, the slack parts tugging on her ear painfully. Her body half-slid out of his hand.
“What the hell?” he whispered to himself.
Merrie considered frightening him. Jale had said the dead rise up. A smaller part of her wondered if he was going to cut off her head and fuck her neck, or skull fuck her like Rat.
(Scare him.)
With a grin, Merrie pulled her head up. Her strained neck protested but she knew it would look like a zombie coming to life. Slowly, she opened her eyes to stare direction at home.
Pirlin's eyes widened.
“Boo,” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
“Fuck!” he screamed as he stumbled back. His boot caught on the arm of a half-melted corpse. His arms flailed as he fell back with his cock trailing an arc of pre-cum and his leg caught in the bodies.
With a sickening crunch, his leg snapped right before his head slammed against the side of the wagon. His body twitched for a moment and then every muscle slumped.
For a long time, Merrie remained still. She half expected Rat to stand up as some sort of undead—that would be ironic given how she just surprised him—but the body remained slumped over. Neither did Pirlin get up.
Gingerly, she tapped his leg.
He didn't move. The bone had broken through the skin and blood flowed around the wound.
She glanced up at the bright light and winced. It would not be easy to escape the wagon, not without getting burned. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to see where they were.
It was a wall of plants. Not just tress pressed together, but thick trees that were almost perfectly lined up along the edges of the valley. Between each one, a webbing of vines and bushes created what appeared to be a solid surface of green life. She couldn't even get a hint of a light or movement beyond the surface leaves.
As she stared, she kept seeing movement in the corner of version. When she tried to focus on it, however, there was nothing.
(The plants are moving.) Zillia was projecting as Merrie's submissive again. An image came along, distorted by the shadow construct's senses. The details of the wall grew sharp and she saw vines reaching up or around, leaves wrapping to fill in gaps even as the wind gently blew past them.
(What is this?)
Neither knew because Merrie didn't know. She wanted to reach out with her senses, to see if it was magical, but she wasn't in direct danger. She had to honor her request to Parn, though it was getting harder to remember if she promised not to use her magic or to only think about it. She was sure it was to ponder the uses, which was fortunate since she thought creating Zillia was probably a direct violation of both the spirit and letter of Parn's request.
Guilt flooded through her.
(Mistress, look.) Zillia drew Merrie's attention the wall.
Vines and branches were reaching out from the wall. The tips of the green plants looked like tentacles as they slithered across the ground. They were heading directly toward Pirlin's and Rat's corpse. Roses, violets, and thorns coiled around the thick tendrils and roots. They all reached out like questing tentacles to wrap around the two bodies. Then, with the same slow movements, they began to pull the corpses into the wall.
Merrie tensed as the sense of danger grew stronger. She glanced up at the light, measuring how much pain it would produce if she rushed out of the wagon. (This isn't good.)
Zillia responded with a wave of concern.
A sound like wind rushing through the trees raced along the surface. She looked up to see the trees leaning toward the valley, as if reaching out for something. Something far away.
The sense of wrongness grew.
(What time is it?)
(Almost morning.) Then fear rippled through the connection, an intimate concern that they both shared. (Sunlight.)
The wagon underneath them shuddered.
Merrie gasped and peered down through the cracks. Vines and roots had wrapped around the wheels of the wagon. They were pulling it toward the wall as more vines crawled up the side, blossoming leaves as they did.
(We have to run,) she projected to Zillia.
(Magic?)
Merrie considered it for only a heartbeat. (Our only chance.)
She tried to crawl out. Her limbs didn't quite work the way they were supposed to, everything felt sluggish and painful with the effort. A whine rose in her throat as she tried to lever off the bodies but couldn't.
Zillia peeled away from her body, the snake-like darkness pushing the bodies aside as they crawled out from the bottom. Near her ankles, she could feel the vines slipping along her skin, trying to wrap around. Thankfully, she had no feet and could pull it close.
The triple beat of her heart slammed against her chest as she writhed up to the top of the wagon. The magical light over the wagon burned her skin and she started to smoke, but she had to look around.
They were on the top of a sheer cliff that surrounded Abbinkey Prison. Only a short distance away, but nearly a quarter mile down, was the guard entrance. Armed guards patrolled underneath her, no doubt armed to kill any prisoner that showed up. She remembered Fomasal's edict, approach the entrance and die.
The path that Pirlin and Jale had followed went almost three kilometers along the cliff, a bare path that was barely wider than the wagon. She spotted no shade or shelter along the east-facing wall. She could too easily imagine being caught in the sunlight halfway down the trail with no chance of escape.
Whining, she looked up. The entire other edge of the prison valley was bright with the approaching sun. Even from a distance, she could see the wall of trees and plant life surrounding everything. Fomasal had said something about the top, but she couldn't imagine it was lush, primal, or animated unless she saw it with her own eyes.
Her whine grew louder as she peered down the cliff. She could plummet a quarter mile and hope it didn't kill her. If it did, then she would be throwing herself into the cycle of recovering in the sunlight and having her body burn away before she could recover. There was no pile of leaves or dead trees to protect her.
She knew her only option, it just scared her.
(You need to get into the trees.)
Merrie's ears flattened against her head as she looked along the wall of life. Something told her that it was just as bad as an option, though not one that involved burning alive.
She considered her options. She had magic, her touch would corrode anything. If she could summon shadows inside the trees, there was a chance she could burn her way across the top of the plateau and out the other side. Or remained just inside the edge until night and to return to the prison.
Merrie took a deep breath. The wall of plants looked like her best option. She drew energy into her body with a prayer to Parn for forgiveness but the spell crumbled from the magical lantern above her. She whimpered and tried again but couldn't shape her body with the light pinning her in place.
The wagon continued to slide toward the wall of plants. More vines and roots reached out to grab it.
(We have to crawl for it.)
Zillia slithered back around Merrie's body, wrapping around her in a cloak of darkness that shielded her somewhat from the magical light. It hurt Zillia and the pain echoed along the connection.
Unsure that she could transform herself, Merrie half-crawled and half-fell off the wagon. Hitting the ground, she rushed away from the wagon's bright light and the questing tentacles. Sharp rocks dug into her body, tearing at her knees and wrists as she rushed forward the writhing wall of plants.
At the last moment, she summoned an aura of shadows. The darkness pounded in her veins. Black flames surrounded her body and the vines beneath her body began to rot and wither away.
Until she breached the wall of plants.
Between one step and the next, the shadows snuffed out. Even her connection dimmed but didn't break. She stumbled forward, planting her face into a large flower. The perfumed pollen surrounded her head as she accidentally breathed in a lungful.
Heat fluttered through her body. She pulled back and shook her head. (Zillia?)
She could feel her cloak's presence but it had dissolved from her body. She frowned and reached out for her cloak.
Zillia sent out a wave of weak emotions: fear and surprise.
Merrie tried to turn back, to escape the pressing confines of the plants but the wall had sealed itself up around her. There was only a few faint marks of rotted plant that disappeared in front of her eyes.
Fear prickled her spine as she tried to summon up a wave of shadow to rot it away the plants to escape.
Nothing.
Surprised and whimpering, she concentrated on her senses. Looking out, she saw there was no magic surrounding her. No, there was magic but it was being absorbed by the plants before she could tap it.
A wave of dizziness washed over her.
She lifted her arm but it refused to move.
There were more tendrils of smaller plants wrapping around her limbs, binding her down. She could feel the pressure as they caught her thighs, legs, and even woven into her hair.
She tried to pull free. Some of the roots snapped but there were hundreds that replaced them. Soon, she would bound tighter than any metal or leather restraint could hope to match.
Helplessness and energy surged into it, fueled by her own desires. She felt her body grow slick even as she felt dizzier. Motes of pollen danced around her as she tried to concentrate. A spell started across her mind but then faded.
She was being pulled toward something.
Merrie struggled to concentrate on her spell, to find some way of breaking herself free. She was in darkness now, she could transform. Only if she could get the calligraphy to race across her mind.
(Zillia, help me!)
Energy rippled back, pushing away the fog of lust.
Then a vine shove into her pussy.
Any hint of concentration crumbled as she was instantly filled with twisting roots and tendrils. They burrowed deep into her core, a coil of twisting tips stroking along her inner walls. The entire mass rotated back and forth as the tendrils sought the fluids inside her and a place to root.
With a low moan, Merrie slumped forward and panted. She was so close. Her hips rose as more of the vines impaled her pussy, weaving themselves around each other to thicken and strengthen the squirming length that invaded her.
More tendrils pressed against her anus, mouth, and nostrils. Even her ears were assaulted by the questing plants. They started to rotate as they shoved into her moist holes. The discomfort rose quickly but then she felt smoother tendrils working their way in and prying her open.
With a surge of pleasure, the thick, ridged and knotted tentacles plunged into her body. It felt like her insides were about to rupture before they stopped and withdrew, dragging out countless bumps and crevices against her sensitive openings.
Merrie threw back her head and moaned. She was so close.
Pleasure swamped her senses. She gathered it up, clutching to the energy in hopes of casting a spell.
The ground slid underneath her, the roots were dragging her along the ground.
Peering through the mass of roots that were violating her throat with deep, twisting strokes, she spotted a large pitcher. No, it wasn't a pitcher, it was a plant shaped like one. It was massive, about four meters tall with a lid that slowly lifted to bring a thick, moist heat to wash over her.
The plants lifted her body, picking her easily off the ground as they continued to pump into her orifices. It was almost impossible to think with the wiggling, splitting, and rotating that was going on in her pussy; she almost felt like the plants were trying to take root in her body.
Her spell crumbled.
Her orgasm of helplessness tore through her, ripping through her senses as it plunged deep. Instantly other vines joined it to weave their way into a twisting mass like the ones that were straining her pussy and ass.
She shuddered helplessly as her body was positioned over the open pitcher plant. The bottom had some thick-looking liquid swirling around. The smell of sweet syrup flooded over her.
An orgasm tore through her body.
She had the energy for magic but it was impossible to concentrate. It felt like she had been drugged, but what would drug a creature of the shadow? What could stop her?
More pollen danced in the air, clinging to her skin. She could almost feel it burning along her skin and into her veins. It flooded her was a dazed sense of pleasure and lust.
Her pussy was soaked with need.
The plant raping her cunt continued to grow. It formed a ball of roots into the soaked depths of her pussy until it was knotted inside her. The pressure of her insides being stretched out by the writhing mass of roots and tendrils shoved her into another orgasm.
Then she was at the edge of the pitcher plant. Looking down, she breathed in the heady scent of syrup and sap. It was like the pollen, fogging her mind and making it hard to concentrate on anything but the waves of pleasure wracking her body.
The vines holding her above the plant lost their tension. She plummeted down. Any sound she would have made were muted by the roots that twisted and plunged into her her throat, cutting off her breath and driving almost to her stomach.
Merrie gagged on them as she landed in the bottom with a splash. She expected the liquid to be cold, but it was searing hot against her skin. The heat quickly cooled but it left a feeling of being covered in thick oil behind.
She tried to roll over but her naked body only slipped helplessly on the smooth sides of the pitcher plant. There was nothing for purchase, nothing to grab to pull her up.
The three thick masses of vines continued to plunge into her openings, raping mouth, ass, and pussy as knots drank up the juices that poured out of her. Around the twisting masses, the fluids that surrounded her seeped into the spaces left by the twisting and plunging vines. Soaked from the inside, the vines were able to thrust faster and harder.
An orgasm tore through her, a spark of purest black swarming across her vision.
She tried to channel it into a spell but couldn't. The pollen or drugs made it impossible. When she concentrated on her collar, the energy flowed sluggishly; it felt as if the plants were draining it away from her as fast as she could orgasm. (Zillia?)
Only a faint, unfocused thoughts washed over her from her cloak. She could feel the energies being drained from it, leaving only the shell. She was sure that Zillia wouldn't be destroyed, the collar anchored her, but at the moment, Zillia was nothing more than a shadow.
She had to serve herself.
Merrie whimpered as she tried to pull herself up. The smooth ends of her wrists couldn't catch anything and she fell face-first into the deep pool forming around her.
The vines raping her throat never stopped. They plunged past her lips and gagged her. The sickly sweet syrup that she was coated in flooded her mouth, coating her insides with the oily substance that made it even harder to concentrate. All that was left was a plunge of being violated and the tingle of her body under the liquid.
More orgasms tore through her. She moaned as she writhed to escape but her body was failing. It was too hard to use her energy, to hard to concentrate.
Everything told her to sink into the orgasm and the sap, to let both fill her body. She wanted to give up, to let herself go.
It was the drugs talking.
Sobbing, she kept fighting but she was losing. It was just too hard to concentrate.
Her senses focused on her ass and pussy. The woven rope of vines and roots brought intense waves of pleasure as they continued to pry and plunge into her openings. She felt every thick ridge and bump. The leaves caressed along her sex as they plunged in and out. The smell of her sex, sake and alcohol, mixed in with the heady sweetness of the sap that now covered her body.
Merrie's head plunged underneath the surface of the sap. She frowned, it wasn't that deep when she first looked but now it was completely covering her body. She could feel it tingle along every centimeter of her skin.
Above her, the leaves of the pitcher plant began to close.
It was dark, blissful orgasmic darkness, but Merrie couldn't use it. There was no power around her, no energy that the plants didn't absorb.
She flailed helplessly as the liquid rose above her head. She felt it seeping into every hole, every orifice. It flooded her insides and set off a wave of orgasms that never seemed to stop.