Content warning: non-consent, slavery, forced seduction, indeed, a well earned hate fuck, demons are not nice people x enjoy.
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From the very first, Ramona has done nothing but endure and submit. Now Oblata's rebellion puts that fearful submission to shame. So what if the Donna gets angry? The truth is Donna Valentino is half the demon Ramona has become.
She rolls her hips as she walks, ungainly at first, with her wings and new curves. Her fingers stay busy keeping her cunt distracted, but hunger cramps her belly.
The Donna's respectable bedroom is a bit of a mess, clothes scattered here and there, drawers and cupboards open. Looking back, at her well camouflaged prison, who knows what other secrets Casa Valentino keeps? Ramona falters then. Centuries of secrets. Overpowering the Donna physically could be easy, keeping the upper hand is another story.
"Piccola?"
Donna Valentino stands in a doorway that seemed like a seamless wall moments ago. She is draped from head to toe in hooded robes. She sounds amused, not angry, a mocking smile plays on her crimson lips, and for some reason that makes Ramona's blood boil.
"What's so funny!"
"Are you..." the amusement fades and the cruel eyes narrow. "... fucking yourself? When I expressly forbade you... and your jewellery?"
"You've kept me like a dog, bred me like a bitch with the wrong man's seed and all you can do is..."
"One more word girl. Just try me."
"Why are you being such a..."
The Donna makes a sweeping gesture with her left hand.
A force lifts Ramona clean off her feet with a white hot flash and she hits the dressing table with a crunch, rebounds, lands hard on her knees, searing pain flaring from her injuries.
She tastes blood, sees nothing but stars. For a time all she can hear is a high pitched whine, but gradually as her ears recover her own panicked sobs can be heard along with six or seven different Italian words that all mean idiot.
Ramona's scalp screams as her weight dangles from a handful of hair. The first image that comes into focus is Oblata crawling past, and Donna Valentino kicking the blindfolded thrall's rump spitefully as she flees. That's when Ramona's demon heart sees red.
A gout of the Donna's blood floods onto the carpet as Ramona swipes blindly behind her; with a horrified shriek her hair is free. Ramona's bloodied claws throw dark flecks of blood across the wall as she rounds on her tormentor and thrusts them gleefully into that unprepared belly, the squeals are music to the beast in her heart. Frenzied Ramona howls. That feeling of tearing into flesh is as exhilarating as the deepest cock in her hungry cunt.
In answer, the Donna's own transformation is near instant, and iron hard talons smash into Ramona's face.
Panic returns as Ramona's vision is obliterated and a second later, the white hot pain of lightening sears her body. The thunderclap that follows could be the last beat of her heart.
Rocking like a boat on water, Ramona hears her name called in anger from a misty far off shore.
"I know you can hear me, you arrogant little bitch. Open your eyes. Subito!"
I still have eyes? Ramona's muddled mind swims dizzily through concussion. Open them. Yes.
Back in the mirrored boudoir, hanging from mangled arms bound tight behind her. There is no pain in the limbs or twisted shoulders and that can't be good, everything else hurts.
The awful truth is rendered in glorious technicolour. Livid bruises flower across her body, her face is torn up, a gruesome Picasso of exposed crooked teeth and torn flesh. Her wings hang limp in their heavy chains like a broken umbrella, all the little bone fragments grate as she moves. There's a heavy steel band around her neck with a chain hanging off it. Her tail encircles her narrow waist, clipped in place with more metalwork. A shrill moan of horror escapes her fragile self control.
"That's right you little ass, you are fucked."
Donna Valentino did not escape unscathed of course. She is smoking a cigarette, gripping the long ivory stem of the holder between trembling fngers. Her ghastly belly wounds are covered, but the fight has weakened her.
"'The wrong man's seed'. Bah." The Donna sets the cigarette down carefully and approaches Ramona with a scowl of resentment. "Of course you'd be a connoisseur of semen. My hungry girl." The tremor fades from the slender hand as she reaches out to brush the hair off Ramona's battered face. "Look what you made me do." Was that a note of remorse?
Ramona keeps her terrified eyes on the Donna's, unsure what to expect, but the touch is gentle. She says nothing. Between her head pounding and her torn face, what can she say?
"I know you couldn't help it, cara mia. It's my fault alone. If I don't bind you well enough, how can I keep you safe? Eh?" A claw emerges from the Donna's fingertip and she catches Ramona's tear on the very point. "I will never ever make that mistake again, Piccola. I have learned my lesson."
The claw traces along the open facial wounds, the salt and irritation awaken the jagged nerves and Ramona flinches in pain.
"Now. There was no need to throw my collar on the floor. No need to mangle the gold I gave you." Another taloned hand rubs gently between Ramona's legs, heightening her awareness of the emptiness within. "You will learn your lesson, however long it takes."
The pain fades surprisingly quickly, the wounds and bruises become flawless skin again, but her arms stay twisted with no chance to heal. The price of raising a hand to Donna Valentino. Once the pain is gone, Ramona's empty mouth, cunt and arse begin to consume every waking thought.
She begs and pleads, but the Donna only laughs at her and leaves.
Ramona tries to count her fitful bursts of sleep, but loses track somewhere after a hundred.
She wonders if she'll ever see the outside of this room again.
She howls in anguish as days pass but she is given no semen, no-one comes to give even the lightest rub to relieve her frustrated clitoris.
The only company she has in this perverse nightmare is a dozen reflections of her body in bondage. Her luscious lips are full, an inviting dusky rose that matches her peaked nipples. Her tits have more than doubled in size since the first day the Donna pierced her wings, and her sexy arse is now more than a generous handful.
Ramona grimaces at her own reflection. Even calm, her teeth are nothing close to human any more. The long canines are perfectly aligned and bone white. They are more animal than demon, like a dog or a chimp. It's only when lust takes hold that the demonic maw bursts forth, her tongue, a hollow proboscis, all her teeth like knives. The lust consumes her for hours at a time until her exhaustion overcomes her, and in her dreams threads of human memory pull her back from the edge. She prays for mercy, dares to beg forgiveness from her wicked jailer.
When at last the door opens a tiny crack, Ramona's pleading begins anew, but it's not the Donna that answers her pathetic prayers.
As Oblata's reverent fingers split Ramona's cunt the young demon weeps in blessed relief. Clarity of thought leads quickly to suspicion.
"Does she know you're here?" Ramona whispers.
Oblata shakes her head. Those gorgeous deep blue eyes are full of their own need, their own hope. The tender touch is an imperfect connection. Ramona imagines the girl filling her, deeply, wantonly, but in its own way, that soft caress is exactly what's needed.
"What... what changed?" Ramona scrutinises the girl's face for any sign she is hiding something, or worse, maybe Oblata's not here at all, it could be the Donna herself.
