Urotsuki-dojo. A Fistful of Tentacles
|By : Nickamano|
Category: +S to Z > Urotsuki-doji
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|Disclaimer: I do not own Urotsukidoji, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.|
Makai – the demon realm.
The beauty of the demon realm came through its infinite shades of grey, from dull charcoal to gleaming silver. While lava, flowing up from an infinite array of volcanic rock formations, appeared in pools, rivers, oceans and lakes, geysers and falls. The red-hot molten rock providing heat and light, fuel and refuse disposal to any and all forms of life that existed in the realm.
The demon realm posed as an unconscious basis for many of the human ideas of hell. What they would describe as a nightmarish landscape.
For Issieki and Dokuhebiki it was home. However, it was boring. The two lower-middle rank demons had been sent to patrol the western isles of the smallest continent. A thankless and frankly paranoid task. Who was going to invade the demon realm? Why would anyone? There was nothing of value, expect molten lava. And there were barely a handful of demon females. Being so rare and sought after by the literal millions of their brethren, females were a highly sought-after commodity any discovered at birth were immediately snatched away by the highborn. Probably to be used up and destroyed in a matter of months. And as far as the two lowly demons were concerned, females could be the only possible thing of value in their entire realm.
Of course, there were the Caves of Prophesy but they were on the eastern continent, close to the Queen’s royal caverns. And the occasions in the past that beast scholars had entered the realm to study the prophesies, they had come openly and brought gifts in order to purchase permissions to study the timeless carvings. So why would beasts invade when they could simply buy permissions? There was simply no reason for invasion and therefore no reason to patrol.
So, with nothing of value, other than craggy rough-edged rocks and fast flowing lava, there was nothing for the two demons to patrol, nothing to do and worst of all, nothing much to eat. They sat in a hollow of rock surrounded on three sides by a lava stream to warm them. They moped.
Issieki was thoroughly miserable. His stomach churned and gurgled being so empty and all. The slick, fleshy demon huffed and sighed as he chewed ineffectually at one of his own tentacles. He could chew on the thick rubbery appendage completely off his body and consume it without issue. Pain, sure but his hunger was already a source of pain so, what the hell. Besides, the tentacle would simply grow back. It would take more energy to grow back than it could ever provide in sustenance, but still, having a full belly made him feel at least a little better.
Dokuhebiki was filling his time masturbating. It was probably the Makai’s number one hobby. The whole species, not just this particular demon. Dokuhebiki had a secondary advantage that pushed him to masturbate more and more often. His seed was also a hallucinogenic toxin. Not fatal to him of course but he could gain a rather fruity high from swallowing it.
While jerking off two side-by-side phallic appendages, and using a dozen smaller appendages that functioned as erogenous feelers up and down the shafts, he was busy regaling his brood brother with a rather boring reminiscence of the last female hunt they had been party two. It was a waste to Issieki’s ears. He had been there, right at Dokuhebiki’s side, throughout. He had witnessed and experienced everything his brood brother had. Still, he listened all the same hoping, without success, that the memories would take his mind off the savage hunger that was gnawing at his patience, sanity and his reserves of energy.
“…we skirted too far around to the right. You remember?”
“The female, was sprinting through the rocks.”
“I could smell the blood from her cut feet.”
“The rocks there were sharp, we’re they. I could hear the clap of her tits bouncing about. That was a good sound.”
“Mizugumoki had tossed its webs all over the place but she was so sweaty and sticky with cum that they wouldn’t stick to her, just slowed her down a little.”
“Bet it felt like she was fighting her way through a jungle.”
“How the fuck would you know?”
“I saw a jungle once. Through a rift… when Kohoki went through into their realm, chasing after ‘The Beast’.”
“Damn, Kohoki… Haven’t seen that asshole in a hundred years! Wonder what happened to him?”
“‘The Beast’ got him.”
“S’what I heard.”
“Damn… Anyway…” Dokuhebiki paused, frowning. “Where was I…?”
“The human chick.”
“Oh yeah. The human chick, running through our world. Prey for the horde. Everyone who’s anyone on her tail.”
“Not surprising, she was a hottie that one.”
“Yeah, young, nice figure.”
“Only until that androgenous shit sank his fangs into her.”
“Mizugumoki might have got her in the end but there must have been a half dozen other guys to their turns before he webbed her out of that scrum of them.”
“But, were we among that half dozen? We were not. We got to have shit all fun. Again.”
“I don’t know man, I quite enjoyed watching the others going at her. Managed to toss a few loads onto her flesh too.”
“From a distance. Which got you halfway splatted by Kumafukuroki.”
“Don’t remind me! That big boned, horse-headed bastard. Thinks he’s way up there in the hierarchy. But he’s just a punk!”
“Yeah… Like us.”
They both fell silent for a while. Self-eating and tugging phalluses thoughtlessly. Once again lost in their mutual misery.
However, finally, something came along to distract them. Issieki’s wide, flapping nostrils flared, then flared wider, sucking in the heat-stifled air noisily. He sniffed, sniffed again, frowned. He stretched himself upright, nonchalantly dropping the raw, half chewed limb from his soft decapodal maw. His nasal sense drawing him bodily up and away, like a fish on a baited hook. He paused at the edge of the hollow of rock that had become their temporary nest.
“Do you smell that?” He asked.
“That sweetness, pervading our foul air.”
“I like our foul air!”
Dokuhebiki paused in his absent-minded masturbation, turned an eye toward his brood brother and frowned. Mohawk-like sensory bristles gave an emotive ripple of consternation.
“Don't be a dope, c'mon.”
Issieki climbed over the shallow valley between the two tallest peaks in the surrounding wall of their granite hollow and suckered his way out of sight, leaping over the lava, catching rock surfaces with his tentacles and quickly vanishing over the far side of another randomly artistic arrangement of rocks. Dokuhebiki let out a harsh and disgruntled sigh and then released his phallic appendages, and started off after his brood brother. Grumbling to himself as the two ten-inch-long shafts of hard muscle refused to soften enough to adequately retract into himself.
If he got his cocks burned by lava, or accidentally whacked them against some outcropping of rock he would hold half of Issieki’s tentacles in fucking lava pool until they were burned to a shrivelled cinder. And then he’d pin him down and take a big steaming dump on his face!
The scent led them to a miracle. The sweetness came from the lack of sulphur throughout the airflow slipping through into their own sulphur-choked environment.
It was a faint blue line on the air. But as they closed in on it, flickering and dancing like a heat haze, the angle changed and they realised it wasn’t a line at all. It was a slit. A tear. And through its shallow oval edge they could see specks of green against a whole lot of powdery tan. And above was a scape of brilliant blue dotted with soft specks of white. Before the two demons could understand what they were looking at, they had to understand what they were looking through.
Dokuhebiki got there first. His mouth flap twisting into the approximation of an overexcited grin.
“Fuck! Do you realise what this is?”
“Well, I think we've only gone and discovered a tunnel into the human realm!”
They had both heard of the things of course, a narrowing of the barrier between the realms. Which, if narrowed enough and with a touch of the right frequency of solar radiation, created a temporary tear which acted as a doorway from one realm to the next. And they had just found one.
“So, this is what lets human chicks into our world?”
“Yeah. The way I understand it, they see or feel something strange, go and investigate and are pulled in.”
“And then its downhill all the way.”
“Not for us.”
“You know what?” Issieki said, suddenly bouncing with excitement. “Pops told me about this one time. If you are aware of the three realms, unlike dumb, arrogant humanity, then you can manipulate the barrier a little. You can travel inside the barrier. Pick where to come out. You could go straight back to your own realm, go into Jyujinkai...”
“Hot babes aplenty, but we wouldn't last more than a few seconds. When those guys get together for a demon hunt, it ain’t pretty. Makes our human girl hunts look like a hatchling’s game.”
“What I mean is we could drop into the human realm, but far away from that usual archipelago.”
Dokuhebiki rolled his eyes, a sequential expression like a wave, rolling from one side to the other.
“The only place in the whole of the human realm more dangerous for us than Jyujinkai, and it’s all because of that damn Wandering Kid!”
“Well, kids. It’s been established by the scholars that the ‘Wandering Kid’ is a mistranslation. It’s actually Wandering Kids. Plural, or even Prowling Kids, even. Though ‘number unknown’ and ‘species unknown’.”
“Really? I haven't heard that. You sure? I mean, them damn scholars, arrogant as humanity they are.”
Issieki bristled again, his own appendages flapping warningly.
“Don't let Lord Suikakujyu, or Lady Yoenki heard you say that.”
“Fuck! Lady Yoenki… what I wouldn't give for an eternity between that piece’s thighs.”
“Yeah, she's fucking awesome. But her brother'd shred your skin, rip off your tentacles...”
“And beat you to death with the wet end!”
“...If you so much as looked at her.”
“Guys’re always protective of their females...” Dokuhebiki said with an exasperated sigh.
“Yeah, if they can't protect themselves, they've got no right being alive. Or at least not being someone’s slave.”
“I agree. But we're off the subject here... what do you say brother? Want to risk it for a biscuit?”
“Go through, see if we can land in the human realm somewhere not on that fucking archipelago, and have a little fun!”
“Oh, sure. To be honest I thought we'd already decided. I was waiting for you to go first.”
“Has been known.”
“Just stick with me, and follow me through the same rift. DON'T miss the exit, or get lost along the way.”
“Relax bro. I'm not dumb. I won't let you get stranded there alone.”
Jyujinkai – The beast realm.
Megumi Amano sat naked, perched practically on the face of one of the Elder’s palace guards. She was urgently gyrating her powerful yet slender hips over the handsome young beast’s handsome face. He lay supine across the soft lush grass that carpeted the land outside the vast twin doors of the Palace’s side entrance. The palace itself, or at least this part of it, resembled a gigantic water smoothed pale grey pebble, stood up on its end. Doors and narrow windows all cut into its smooth surface. Not that anyone cared or paid the slightest bit of attention to the naturalistic nature of its architecture.
The Jyujin guard’s hands were clasped pleasantly firm onto her taut and athletic buttocks, supporting her and holding her lithe body a hairsbreadth above his face. She was leaning slightly forward, one hand encircling the root of his erect cock, a reasonable size and hard as stone, while the other supported her via a wind smoothed rounded boulder beside them.
The young lad was pretty good with his tongue, keeping a quick yet steady flickering pace against her external clitoris that, this close to orgasm, was jutting visibly from its delicate hood. Though obviously inexperienced, he had started with adoring little kisses and vibrating hums that came through his full lips to tease her vulva until they had swelled and spread for him. Then he attacked her freshly revealed labia starting with long playful licks with his tongue amid gentle teasing kisses and soft caressing pinches using his soft lips.
Once her juices were well and truly flowing, he had started to delve into her with what he revealed to be a naturally talented tongue, lapping up her sweet fluid until she was panting and moaning in pleasure. Little quivers of pleasure zipping through her loins and thighs. She had plied her breasts stroking and squeezing their firm softness, then pulled and twisted her own nipples until they ached. He had done something with his tongue thrusting it deep into her and then somehow rolling or whirling it around and around inside her, making her clench and moan with her intensified passion.
That was when she had reached forward for his cock. It filled her palm with the crown, jutting beyond the web of her thumb and forefinger. But this was pleasure meant for her. A gift. She didn’t mind a little reciprocation, a little squeezing and tugging, but she wasn’t about to go all out. She didn’t have time for starters. If he climaxed before or while he was bringing her to fruition then fine. But once he got her off it would be over and done with and he would just have to see to himself. Afterall, he was enjoying the intimacy of a celebrity. Even if she was of the infamous rather than the famous variety. And for him this would truly be a once in a lifetime experience. Whatever he got out of it would be an experience for him to treasure. Which he knew all too well.
All Megumi really had to ensure was that she channelled her orgasmic energies internally. Otherwise, her blossoming climax would not go well for the young guardsman.
She was waiting for her brother who was in a meeting with the Elder. She wasn’t allowed into the Palace. Not after the ‘incident’ that had resulted in her banishment from her home realm. Granted, the Elder’s wrath since then, had diminished enough that she was allowed to return to her own realm, as long as she was under the direct responsibility of her brother. And that she didn’t ever step foot inside the Palace. At least, not without a direct invitation from the Elder. Which she didn’t expect to receive any time soon.
Jyaku appeared only a couple of minutes after Megumi’s very fine and enjoyable orgasm had abated. The young guard’s tongue, as he noted her closeness to her peak, focussed finally and exclusively on her clitoris and that quick, energetic lashing launched Megumi past her peak and launched her billowing lust-joy straight up into the stratosphere.
The Jyujin beauty had also managed to bring off the young Palace guard entirely by accident. As the series of thunderous explosions had detonated in her loins, instantly propelling her into a mindless place of sheer erotic euphoria, she had turned the energy inward, transforming expanding sexual plasma into the ultimate dopamine surge. Overcome by that earthshattering euphoria, her hand had clutched and spasmed around the guard’s cock working the foreskin and his own pleasure centres enough to get his balls good and emptied.
She hadn’t seen it, of course, but his geyser-like eruption of sparkling seed had launched itself eight feet into the air, to rain down over them like a salty spring shower. When she did return to reality, she found the guard was fully unconscious beneath her, his limp cock bruised by her solid grasp.
She gave a nonchalant shrug and climbed off him, feeling a little weak, yet basking in post-euphoric bliss. She stretched and yawned, feeling strength returning to her along with her awareness. She turned to see her brother standing there watching her with a little grin on his lean, angular face.
“Found something to occupy your time I see.”
“Hey big brother.” Megumi sang, smiling contentedly.
“Hey little sis.”
She flashed him another smile as she started gathering her clothes. It was only a flying visit and she was essentially under guard, however, she had still gone back to their family home and dressed in their realm attire. It consisted of brightly polished flexible gold. she wore a slender crotch piece and a filigree torso covering, the human equivalent might be corset cover made from gold lace. She slipped a delicate diadem across her brow. There were bracelets and upper-armbands, a greave on her right forearm and a fingerless gauntlet on her left. A gold necklace of ancient Jyujin cryptograph plates, that was a family heirloom. And of course, her royal-blooddrop earrings.
In the beast realm, like Jyaku - though his were darker - her hair, eyebrows and trimmed pubic hair all took on a luscious sky-blue hue. Though in the human realm all three resembled the inky black of any human from the Archipelago they referred to as Land of the Rising Sun.
Jyaku perched himself on a flat-topped boulder while he watched his younger sister dress. There had never been any desire or incestuous urges between them, but he wasn’t blind to how utterly stunning she was. If he hadn’t implicitly understood exactly how powerful she was, both as a Jyujin and with all the decades of Japanese martial arts and actual combat experience she had attained, he would have felt fiercely protective of her. He still worried, but he knew she could more than look after herself.
“So, how'd it go, big bro?” She sang.
“Oh, y’know. I report, he listens. He offers advice, I ignore it… It’s more to keep him on side than anything useful.”
“Am I forgiven yet? Or pardoned…?”
Megumi tried to keep the question sounding casual, even unconcerned but she could hear the hope in her own words and it made her embarrassed. She felt herself blush. Jyaku just gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Definitely not officially. But you’re no longer on his list of ‘kingdom tyrants’, and you’re not under a death sentence anymore.”
“Just, don’t go in there,” He nodded at the great stone Palace. “Or prowling around, or you’ll find yourself back in your cell.”
“That's something, I guess. So, what was the verdict?”
“The usual. Stay in Ningenkai, report back. But essentially, I carry on doing whatever I want. He turns a blind eye. I think he likes to think of me as a spy or something.”
“I have more experience of that that you do.”
“True… proper ‘kunoichi’, you are.”
“You know that was never really a thing? It’s that damned 'Bansenshukai' tell-all book that introduced that term…”
Fully dressed, Megumi glanced down at the still unconscious Palace guard. Had a little moment of indecision and then knelt down and gave him a little kiss on his full lips, tasting herself. A little electric tingle darted across her own mouth from the latent energy of her vaginal fluid.
She whispered “Thanks kid” ignoring her brother’s amused lopsided smile. And then the Amano siblings took to the air together.
“So, what's the plan?” Megumi asked.
“Back to Edo. Keep an eye out. Suikakujyu and his bitches are definitely up to something. If they have a lead on the Chojin...”
“I feel kinda sorry for En and Fu... Do you think I get spoken about as your bitch?”
“No way, you’re my sister! Those two are just his whores.”
“So, you're heading back to Tokyo?”
He frowned. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“C'mon big bro, it’s been called Tokyo for the last thirty or forty years. You really need to keep up.”
Megumi led the way back toward their family home. While Jyaku, head elsewhere, followed her blindly. Their parents had been killed in the last demon-beast war, three hundred years earlier. It was just the two of them. However, they were still high ranking and very powerful within the small population of their realm. And, though technically outcasts, the family name still meant something, garnered respect. Jyaku, though often outwardly scored, was looked at more secretively with both respect and fear. While Megumi was in equal parts adored by the youth and despised by many of the elders. In no small part due to the ‘incident’ that had got her banished.
“I'm heading back now, and you still aren't allowed to hang around here without me as escort.”
“Fine, I'm coming. Just need to change… again.”
“I told you I wouldn’t be long.”
“Yep. You did. Kuroko had better have my things washed and dried or I’ll flick that tiny little dick of his all the way into next week!”
Unlike Megumi, Jyaku had not bothered to change and was still dressed in his Japanese student’s uniform, consisting of a navy blue, long-sleeved mandarin collared jacket with matching high waisted trousers, held up with soft leather belts over his shoulders. The buttons on the jacket were of dull repurposed brass. Western-style black leather shoes covered his feet and there was a western military-style cap atop his unruly blue-black hair.
Megumi had slipped back into the dress of the adolescent upper class British girl she had been residing as for the last decade or so. Her own blue-black hair pinned up under a lace-edged monsoon cap. The small grey fleshed humanoid, Kuroko, had successfully dried the freshly laundered cotton and lace white summer dress. It was short for post-Victorian England, stopping just below her knees with black stockings and ankle boots covering her shapely legs. Sporting a high collar, the dress’s full-length sleeves were snug fitting. Jyaku noted that the dress had been additionally tailored to fit her more snuggly, more likely than was proper, across her bust and waist. And it presented the full, perky perfection of the former, and the slender circumference of the latter.
Ready to leave, they used their preternatural olfactory senses to locate a burnished thin sliver of the barrier separating the three realms. It was located in the middle of a lush forest a few miles from the Elder’s Palace. They used their powers to turn the thin barrier into a little slit and then slid through. They repaired the damage and then looked around the multicoloured star-scape that was the channel of unreality between the realms. Megumi’s cute little nose twitched, almost immediately. She swept around in a slow circle. There were shadows of the three realms, like warped silhouettes refracted through the curvature of a glass of water, in amongst the glistening billion-colour swirl of unreality, highlighted with the frostlike glimmer of stellar glitter beyond.
“I smell intruders.” She said, sniffing.
“More Makai? I can't believe how good your nose is compared to mine.” He huffed.
“Oh yeah, you're so weak and feeble.” She muttered, rolling her eyes. “They've zoomed off over that way though.”
“Well, there you go. That’ll give you something to do while I'm doing the whole ‘shinobi’ thing on Suikakujyu and his two whores.”
“Suppose I could, might be fun.”
“You don’t have anything special over in Igirisu, do you?”
“Not particularly. Nothing I can’t go back to.”
“So, Why don’t you go get ‘em?”
“Don’t see why not. They shouldn’t be here. And even the lowliest of Makai slime wouldn’t be dumb enough to go into our realm, so… Hey, I’ve been wondering, do you think Fukakuki knows who you are?”
“Doubt it. She's just a good fuck and I guess she likes me for the same reason.”
“Okay, well, have fun. Just watch your back. You know Suikakujyu’s no slouch. And if I'm heading this way, wherever it takes me, I won't be there to watch out for you.”
“Your concern is noted.” Jyaku grinned. “Now get going. And be careful, sis.”
Ningenkai – the human realm.
Issieki and Dokuhebiki crashed down on the uneven grit and sand of a scrubby desert. It was all artistic rock formations, hard-fighting flora, dryness and heat. Though they themselves weren’t yet aware, and wouldn’t care if they did find out, they had struck the human realm in south Texas in the Christian calendar year of 1910.
The sand and grit of the desert blew in long disturbing sheets across a vast barren landscape. There was little more than jagged rocks and small spined shrubberies as far as their eyes could see. The air was hot, almost stifling, and that dry heat suffused the two demon’s olfactory receptors.
It reminded them of home, but it was much more colourful and brightly lit with the sun blazing down on them. The sky was a pale pastel blue and the clouds were not what they were used to either. Rather than oppressive, low lying and desolate inky black, blotting out everything above the horizon; these were little more than a sprinkle across the vastness of the overhead skyscape. The air tasted sickly sweet and so fresh. There was none of the putrid sulphurous sensual overload of their own realm.
The sun was low, only an hour or so above the horizon and the two demons decided they would have to find themselves shelter and preferably a human settlement, sometime soon. As close to night as possible. Once they were secure there, then they could plan their fun. And what form it would take.
Fortunately, the stifling warm air brought with it smells, of sweat and body odour, of food and drink. Of wood, metal and fabric and of animals. And of females, both human and animal. Keeping the rapidly lowering sun to their right, the two demons set off.
They flew rather than walking but they kept low to the ground. Of course, they could have gone up high and took in more of their surrounding area but the last thing they wanted to do was to alert the humans to their presence. They wanted to find some disguises quietly. Therefore, they kept to whatever shadows they could find amongst the rocks and cliff sides, following the approximate direction of that delicious rank scent of domesticity.
“So, what do you think?”
“There’s definitely a settlement up ahead somewhere. But what kind of suitability… we won’t know until we get there and proper have a look see.”
“Shouldn’t we just grab the first disguises we come across? We can always change things for the better when we get the chance…”
“Yeah, well. Let’s just get there and see what’s available.”
The desert slowly gave way to an intensification of shrubs and then tufts of grass that poked through the sand and dirt before taking over completely. And then it was stretching away for miles, turning into a great swathe of lush yellowish green. The eventual undulating blanket of grass was even dotted with a tree here and there, long bone-white trunks with skeletal finger branches spreading up and out, topped with a dome of emerald foliage. The undulations of yellow-green slowly rose in height.
“Do you think we'll meet her here?”
“Who? ‘The Beast’?”
“Yeah. She supposed to be in this realm, isn’t she?”
“I guess… Fuck, I hope so!”
“You hope so? Why for fuck’s sake? I'm praying to the Queen that we don't!”
“Are you kidding? Best possible fuck of our lives appears and you're gonna what, run off and hide?”
“Damn right! I'd rather live than lose it at the hands of ‘The Beast’.”
“Well, I'm not gonna die at the hands of ‘The Beast’. I tell you that for nothing! It ain't gonna happen to me! I'm gonna beat her.”
“Sure. You tell yourself that brother. C'mon. We all know the stories.”
“Fuck the stories. I can be the first, why not? Mark my words, no ‘Beast’ is getting me, I'm getting ‘The beast’! I'll make her mine. Bend her to my will!”
“Anything you say, brother.”
“Fuck you. I have a plan. A fool-proof plan.”
“Oh yeah? It’d need to be fool-proof wouldn’t it!”
“Forget it. So, what’s this plan then?”
“You can be guaranteed of one thing. When it comes to all of our kin defeated by ‘The Beast’, they fell for the sensations and slowed down. Tried to draw it out.”
“Why the hell would anyone do that? Easiest way to lose, isn’t it!?”
“Well, no doubt they couldn’t take the notion of such a divine level of pleasure coming to an end, even if it meant the most exquisite climax. They couldn’t help but slow down and try and savour it.”
“And that’s when she got them?”
“Of course! Slowing down allowed her to win.”
“So, let me guess… You’re not going to slow down. You’re going to go all out and beat her to the punch, so to speak.”
“Yeah! Why not!”
“Fucking genius plan!”
“Isn’t it though?!”
They landed on the lip of one of the undulations. It actually ended at a cliff top, a low promontory of grass verged sandstone and they found themselves overlooking a large expanse of land that had been fenced off. There were pens containing human realm animals. Squat, broad quadrupeds with wide noses, flapping ears and horns. And there were hundreds of them. They were obviously domesticated, just like the upper echelons did with their own females. Some fields were occupied, others were empty. A second type of quadruped appeared in yet another field, these were taller, leaner, narrower in the body, longer legs and hair tails. They sported long necks and long lozenge shaped heads similar in appearance to Kumafukuroki.
Slap bang in the middle of the area, was another area which was also fenced off. Unlike the animal pens this area was decorated throughout with trees and shrubs, a square or two of human cultivated flora. And in the centre was a cluster of human shelters. Though there might also have been a number of shelters for some of their domesticated animals too. Perhaps the weather here was changeable.
The two Makai sat on the edge of the cliff, watching the main building with its long, low slanting top. There were lights coming on, and the majority of the most interesting smells were coming from within. They assumed it to be the Human’s domicile building.
They saw figures moving back and forth across the windows, at times. Just silhouettes from this distance. Their other senses filled in additional details. One male, two females.
“I get dibs on the male.” Dokuhebiki spat hurriedly.
“I suppose I could have a female… take her out maybe, use her to find another male…”
“No, no, both those females are mine. They belong to the male. You can see for yourself.”
“What? Oh… Oh yeah. I guess so… Fuck.”
“Wanna go in for a closer look?”
“Yeah, I guess…”
They took to the air, keeping themselves at treetop height. They came to a gentle, light limbed landing on the angular top of the domicile. There was an exterior corridor with support struts that the sloping top overhung at the front.
Both demons phased their bodies slightly out of the material world, then slid down vertically through the top of the building. Inside they stepped backward, maintaining their reality drift, and slid into the fabric of the material making up the front wall of the domicile. They sat inside the wood of the wall and with silent barely held in excitement, observing the inside of the building.
The interior appeared to be open other than partitions separating out a couple of distinct rooms, to the left and right. While a wide dark wood staircase led to a second level. There was a large central fire, surrounded by a brick chimney. It fed heat to both halves of the divided downstairs. The right was filled out with softly padded seating, while the left side housed a large rectangular table. With half a dozen wooden chairs surrounding it. Even as the demons watched, that table was being filled with items human used to consume food. Not that they had any understanding of human’s consumption practices. However, there were items that were there to contain the food, tools to aid them in consumption. There were even forms of illumination, they assumed to aid in seeing the food.
And then one of the females strolled into the table-room with an armful of steaming foodstuffs in a lidded white container.
She was a middle-aged human female. She had long, straight blonde hair, wearing a plain looking dress with long sleeves, a high collar, layered skirts and most interestingly a jutting bust. The white container was an inverted dome, she lifted the lid and within they witnessed a steaming pile of a green substance, it looked like small tress mixed in with finger like lozenges in a darker shade of green.
She placed the thing in a space at the table, made a little adjustment and then headed back the way she had come. The two demons looked at each other and grinned.
A moment later another female emerged from the same door, carrying a receptacle of her own. Much smaller, this one had a handle at one end and a little tongue at the other, it was filled with a viscous brown liquid that smelled of meat and was also steaming. This female was more than likely an offspring of the blonde, though she was dark haired. Probably a young adult. She wore similar attire to her brood mother and appeared to have a slightly thinner version of the elder’s shapely figure.
Finally, the patriarch descended their stairs. He was a rough looking and stockily built male, somewhat older than the elder female. He wore a white shirt and dark trousers with straps holding them up. Collar length waves of dark hair were shot through with grey and he wore a thick bushy beard that was also adorned with grey wires of facial hair. His brows were thick and bushy. He seemed distracted, oddly packing a small bowl at the end of a thin reed of wood or horn, with shredded remnants of dried leaves.
“Okay. We’re on...” Dokuhebiki whispered. “Brother, do me a favour and go and create a distraction. One of those domesticated animals, maybe in that big building over there? Get it squealing good and loud. When the male goes out to investigate, I’ll take him.”
Issieki gave a little nod and slipped backward out of the wall, back into the material-scape, solidifying himself again while making his way across the bare ground. He hurried toward the big building containing the animals with the heads like Kumafukuroki’s. There were three of them. A huge one with hair about his hooflike feet, a smaller one though still large and powerful, and a small slender one. While obviously the smallest it also appeared to be the most well looked after. It was mottled in patches of grey over white. It was easily the most alluring and Issieki could smell the musky aroma of the younger human female all over it.
He clambered over to it, using his oversize flippers to swim through the dusk air. He easily saw the best way to get the animal screaming. He untied it from its loose fetters and opened up the little wooden door keeping it in its slot. Then drew forth one of his prehensile tentacles, allowing the tip to roll back and unveil the phallus that was concealed within. The demon rammed its phallus deep inside the animal’s puffy reproductive channel, sitting right there exposed beneath the raised hair tail.
The female animal let out a sudden, high, deafening scream. She reared up on her hindlegs, shivering uncontrollably. While, holding on tight with suckered tentacles, Issieki wrapped the rest of its teleost-like body around her hide quarters and narrow waist. The young animal screamed again, quivering, then kicked backward as through trying to dislodge her assaulter. The demon laughed and started ‘fisting’ its appendage aggressively in and out of the female’s orifice. The beast whinnied and screamed, backing out of its little wooden slot and bolted to the open doors at the front of the building. Doors the Makai had dragged open deliberately.
Howling and laughing as he clung to the bucking darting female, Issieki held on tight, watching the swelling vagina beginning to seep fluids, as the effects of its fervent manual assault started to take effect. The animal was now free in the main enclosure, running around in terror and confusion, sprinting between buildings, leaping over wire fences and wooden gates.
There was a secondary hole above the well stuffed vagina, which appeared gated by a cinched tight sphincter muscle. The Makai giggled excitedly and brought another long, phallic tipped appendage into play, unceremoniously ramming the forearm length tentacle into the female’s anus, right up to the intestinal mouth. The animal gave a great spasm and another squeal of shock, sprinting blindly off into the gathering dark. Issieki held on tight, continuing to roughly piston both tentacles in and out of the animal’s tight, hot orifices and laughing in his eroticised glee, his flipper-like hind limbs wrapped tightly around her hindquarters.
Dokuhebiki laughed as he watched his brood brother double fucking the human realm creature. It seemed like it was a lot of fun and there was an undeniable femininity to the sleek, shapely animal. He might have to have a go at one of those someday. But not any time soon. The human male was hurrying to the door, some kind of metallic and wood tubelike apparatus in his grasp. He looking shocked and angry, while behind him his two females stood stock still staring at the door. With these female humans, those female animals outside might have to wait a long time. In a matter of seconds this Makai would have two human females to play with.
Jock Chisholm grabbed his Remington side-by-side. He could only hear one of his horses, his daughter Amanda’s pride and joy Nokota mare. It was all but a one of a kind down here on the Texas border. However, it was making such a racket and the din was not coming from inside the barn. Somehow it had got free and was running around the ranch. Either some bastard was trying to rustle it, or perhaps Amanda had not tied it up well enough, left the barn door open and something had spooked it. He booted open the door of his low ranch house and stepped out onto the veranda.
Sure enough, he could see the barn door half open, and he could hear Nancy the Nokota galloping around somewhere to the left.
And then the floor went out from under him and like a hooked fish, he was yanked quickly up off his feet. The shotgun was whipped fiercely out of his hand by whatever had snatched him up. His brain was attempting to justify the impossibility, painting in pictures of a man on his shingled roof, hooking him with a lasso and hauling him up off his feet. He was whipped around, finding himself suspended above the earth, looking down at the terracotta tiles of his ranch house. And what he found himself gawking at was some infernal creature from the very pits of Hell itself. He tried to scream of course, but the instant his mouth opened and he inhaled a lungful of air, some boneless limb shot up and plunged into his mouth, wriggling deep and cutting off his airway.
Inextricably his thoughts went to his wife Sharon. And how he liked to make her take his dick down her throat, even though she complained and begged him not to. It was her duty the fucking whining bitch! But now, being on the receiving end of a warm and fleshy cylinder as it was pressed across his tongue, jammed inward past his uvula to pop beyond the barrier of his tonsils and into his throat, he reconsidered his early insistences of making her sucking his cock in such a way. With all due respect and appreciation to Sharon, she had performed valiantly every time he made her do it. Yet now, he had a special appreciation for all those times he had forced it down her throat, now that he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end. It turned out that the image of the last time he had made her give him oral, two days earlier, would be the last thing his mind would ever recollect.
The appendage slithering into his oesophagus abruptly bulged, blocking all possible motion and airflow as well as his ability to scream. And unbeknownst to Jock, it began to liquify and seep through the muscle walls of his throat and mouth, Makai cells assimilating the human, taking possession, a cuckoo taking another bird’s nest.
Dokuhebiki slithered into Jock Chisholm, each part of him that found his way inside the human turned into the consistency of raw egg. Then the demon flesh was absorbed into the human. Though it took over control, the Makai embodied the human until the demon was, at least on the outside, the human. While in real terms the human ceased to exist. And yet the demon had access to the human’s brain and therefore his memories, experiences and personality. Assimilation made for the perfect disguise for a demon.
Stretching and getting a feel for his new body and skills, Jock stepped off the roof of his ranch house, landed lightly on the packed earth of the ground, then turned to face his new home.
Grinning with excitement, he stepped back up onto the veranda and then walked in through the front door where his wife Sharon and daughter Amanda stood there waiting for him.
Issieki removed himself from the galloping, shivering animal when he saw the distant lights glowing on the ruddy horizon. He had almost absorbed the animal, intending to use its natural speed and stamina to race straight over to that cluster of lights but then thought that perhaps this particular animal might be known to whoever lived at those lights and they might go paying the ranch a visit. So, the demon relinquished his control on the beast and took off into the night sky instead, under his own power.
The lights turned out to be a small town. A cluster of a couple of dozen single and double storey buildings, all hastily put together by boards of wood. The tallest of them had a four-sided tower that terminated in a pyramid with a cross on top of it. Issieki flitted across the darkening sky over to that tower. Catching hold of the wooden cross, he clung to it while he looked down at the buildings and the walkways below with interest.
As it was barely an hour after sunset, there were still plenty of humans milling about. And therefore, plenty of options. The females were certainly a temptation. Not only the act of absorbing them was always the utmost fun, especially when it was taken slowly, every orifice penetrated followed by an unhurried absorption that he could draw out for hours, bathing in and gorging on the female’s interminable suffering until he finally took her over.
And then it would be even more fun to have her wander around seducing males every which way and ruining the female. And there was even a certain perverse pleasure to be had in taking over a female, ruining them with as many sexual associations as possible and then putting her back the way she was and walking away.
However, all too often brood brethren would take advantage of a Makai disguised female and gangbang it. There was a certain pleasure to be had of course but it always ended the same way, domination, and violence. They always took advantage and took far too much enjoyment in the sadistic domineering gang-abuse of a female-disguised brood brother.
A smell caught in his nostrils. The scent of females. Strong and, in fact, myriad. He switched his senses to the opposite end of the town he had been assessing, and almost at once spotted a gaggle of females all heading toward his building. They were mixed in age, children, adolescents, young adults, adults and the aged. There were about a dozen of them in all and each appeared to have dark hair and a darker brownish skin tone, at least compared to those occupying the opposite end of the place, who were paler skinned, with more variety in hair colour. The sooner he picked a disguise the sooner he could understand what this place and its people were about. And start to enjoy himself.
He watched until he was certain the females were approaching this particular building. It was also the largest of all the buildings in the town.
As the females walked up the steps and entered the building, Issieki phased from the material reality and slid down through the roof into the rafters. He found a shadowy corner in the vaulted ceiling of the large interior. It was essentially one large chamber with what appeared to be an altar opposite the entrance, and simple seating on either side of a long central walkway. The women took seats at the front, facing the altar on both sides of the walkway. A moment later, a human male dressed all in black with a strip of white at his throat, appeared from another door at the side of the altar and stood before the women. Interesting. And opportunistic.
Amanda Chisholm was growing increasingly concerned for her mother. Pop had never been the warmest or most gentle of fathers or husbands, but since whatever had so frightened her Nancy outside, he seemed changed.
Sitting at the dinner table, Amanda found herself devoid of appetite, having been afraid for her beloved horse and she had begged to go out and check on her, but pop had forbidden it, insisting that the animal was fine and had been returned to the stable.
They had eaten in silence, though pop’s eyes barely left either Amanda or her mother. She had wanted to press the issue about Nancy, knowing full well she knew how to wrap pops around her little finger. But when she opened her mouth to speak, her mother had caught her eye and tossed Amanda a dark looking and miniscule shake of the head. Amanda had almost ignored her mother and turned to look imploringly at pops, putting on her most adoring yet sad expression, and staring across the corner of the table at him. However, she had seen something in his face, something she couldn’t put into words, but that something had silenced her. The look had also, once given permission, had her hurry straight off to bed.
Surprisingly, she heard her parents stomping boots ascending the stairs not even a half hour later. Far, far earlier than usual for them to retire for the night.
Their boots thumped on the bare boards, quieting every now and then as they stepped onto one of the thick, geometrically patterned floor rugs. Their bedroom door shut firmly, not quite a slam but not far from it.
There were hushed murmurings, occasionally raised. Amanda picking up the odd word, though it painted no picture she could understand.
Sounds coming from the partition wall that her bed was pressed up against, though echoey, were now louder. Loud enough to be clear, recognisable. Understandable. And those noises had Amanda’s heart beating like a war drum, and butterflies dancing in her flat belly.
“Either you do it or I’ll go next door.”
“What? You… Jock, you wouldn’t?! Why would you say something like that!?”
“I won’t ask again. I won’t tell you again.”
And then, after a delay, those noises started up. Amanda shivered. Unable to put anything logical to what she was overhearing. She’d heard her parent’s doing that… stuff… before. The partition wall was only thin and she was nineteen, she was no foolish child, even if she was still a virgin with few prospects other than ranch hands that her pop would never allow her to marry. Or she supposed someone from the town, which her pop would more than likely, never allow her to marry.
Amanda’s mother was sobbing, whimpering words some of which Amanda couldn’t catch but pop’s replies were clear. And full of threat.
“Please Jock, I can’t! Please, don’t ask me.”
“I ain’t asking woman, get to it.”
“It’s too much! I can’t! It won’t fit, not that size!”
“I don’t care, you’ll take it all the way down and fucking like it!”
Amanda hadn’t heard him speak like that before. On occasion a little rough. At times a little threatening when she talked back to him. He’d also raised his hand to her on a couple of occasions, but Amanda had never seen him hit her mother. Or herself.
“Can’t you get it into your thick head, Sharon, that it’s your wifely duty. In fact, from now on I’ll be having it every day. Got that, wife? Do you understand?”
“Please Jock! I mean, it’s so much bigger, even than yesterday. I’ve always struggled, you know that, but I always did my best for you. But that thing. I don’t know how… but… Lord protect me, it’s monstrous, Jock! Please!”
There were a couple of sharp cracks resulting in little squeals and intensified sobbing from her mother, but then the sobbing started to lessen and quieten. There were a few seconds of silence and then the rough grumble of rusted bedsprings.
“Please… don’t… hit me, again.”
“So, get to it.”
Amanda’s mother sounded subdued, pleading, her voice barely audible. Pop gave a little throaty laugh. It was deep and guttural, not his usual high pitched raw bark. It hardly sounded like him at all.
Silence followed, but it was ended by some low, rumbling, masculine groans of obvious pleasure. There were wet sounds that followed. Suctioning sounds. Muffled moans while above it all were the deep groans and compliments from Pop.
“There you go… that’s more like it… better…”
Amanda had never seen it done but a twenty-something cowboy, one day when she and Pop had nipped into town for supplies, had tried shocking her by showing off a small collection of pencil sketches, erotic pencil sketches. He had assured her had bought from a French artist they came across on the trail. Amongst the eye opening and admittedly shocking life drawings had been a couple of a woman with her mouth open, her lips wrapped securely around the girth of a male’s phallus. The cowboy had flicked back and forth between the two drawings they were like a sequential sequence from almost the same angle, the first with the woman’s lips around the crown of the phallus, the second showing her lips, still wrapped around its fat girth, half buried in the charcoal squiggles of the male’s pubic hair. The implication being that the entire phallus went into her mouth. Amanda vaguely remembered running her tongue around the inside of her mouth, trying to judge how deep a person’s mouth went and the answer was not all that deep, so where had the rest of the male member gone? She had been unable to formulate an answer before her Pops had found her and angrily dragged her away from the grinning cowboy. She had been given such a spanking on her behind once he got her back home. While the cowboy had been lucky not to have been blasted in the gut by one of pop’s 44-40’s.
“Oooohhh… yeah… Suck that dick.” Pops grunted from the adjoining room.
Amanda’s room was invaded by ten minutes worth of sickening gagging amid softer and more distant sucking noises. She tried to ignore it, burying her head under her pillow but she felt anxious and that feeling found her straining her ears from beneath the pillow, actively listening rather than the sounds circumstantially washing over her. With her eyes shut all she could see was that cowboy flicking those two detailed erotic drawings back and forth, animating the charcoal blow job.
The gagging and spluttering sounds, her mother was choking out were all Amanda’s ears would offer, providing an accompaniment to the visuals her memory was supplying. Her world utterly filled with the repeated wet surging sounds of pop’s erect member blatantly thrusting. And rapidly, going by the pace of the wet hacking and slurping noises. It could only be pop jamming itself into her mother’s tight throat, while she slurped, and hawked in drool-anointed lungfuls of air whenever she could.
Eventually pop started to groan long guttural sounds while the slick slurping and sputtering came in a more and more rapid rhythm.
“Keep it going! Keep it going!” Then a few seconds later. “Faster, faster! That’s it, I’m going to cum soon.”
And finally, he approached top pitch.
“Keep it going Sharon, so I won’t have to go and visit your daughter. That’s it… that’s it! A bit more! More, you can breathe when you’re done… Come on! Come on! That’s it now… AHHH YES! YES! YES!”
Once pop had finished with his infernal and rather terrifying din, all that was left behind was her mother’s sobbing, coughing and hacking and wet, spluttering moans. Soon enough they faded too.
Silence followed. Eventually, Amanda fell asleep.
Issieki watched from the rafters of the high-ceilinged wooden chamber. The women all stared up at the brown skinned man in black as he spoke to them, reading from a book, sometimes making signs with his hand. Sometimes the women in unison ended his sentences for him. Sometimes they all spoke as one in a kind of chant.
It took an age and Issieki didn’t understand a word or even what this ceremony was about. Afterward however, when it seemed to be over, the women filed out of their seats and one by one spoke to the man in black. Every time they were subservient, demonstrably docile to him. As though he had power over them or possessed a higher rank or position.
That was something Issieki was familiar with. There was also a strict hierarchy in his own race. It was bound by power and ability and brains. And Issieki, like his brood brother, was toward the lower end of that hierarchy. Though he liked to think at the high end of their lower scale. There were certainly Makai well beneath him in power and intelligence. There were those without consciousness, those who were mindless eating and fucking machines, they were the lowest of the low. While those of his own scale were eating, fucking and thinking machines. There were those above them who had a degree of self-control, and the ability to think and plot and problem solve at a much better degree than he. And then there were the upper echelons, those of real power and control and influence, wisdom, cold calculation.
Did this human in black possess a similar degree of authority over these women? If that were so, using him as a disguise might well prove amusing and profitable.
One of the women remained separate from the others, she stood back as the remainder spoke to the male one at a time and then left the large room.
The lone woman remained seated; her head bowed. Until the rest of the females had departed. The man in black followed the last of them to the main door and threw the bolts across, locking himself and the woman inside. Then he marched quickly back along the central walkway until he stood beside her. He grasped the piece of fabric covering her head and yanked it away. Beneath, her hair was long and straight and gleaming black as though polished, reflecting the golden flames of illumination set on tall sticks flanking the altar, as well as along the walls and the rear of the chamber beside the entrance.
The woman stood, shaking, her remained head bowed. The man put a hand onto the small of her back and pushed her on. He drove her along with him, guiding her around the side of the altar and then through a small door which appeared to lead into a room beyond the main chamber.
Issieki followed them, flitting silently across to the far side of the room onto the rafter directly above the altar. Once the door was closed, separating the two humans from the observing demon, Issieki went to the dividing wall, phased his physicality into it and observed them invisibly from within its solid state.
Jock grabbed Sharon’s shoulder. She was lying on her side with her back to him. He had been lying there for a while, enjoying the afterglow. Her blow job, or more accurately his torrid skull fuck, had felt fantastic and she had acquitted herself surprisingly well. Though he must have worn her out as once she had used the basin and washcloth atop the chest of drawers opposite, and then returned to bed, she had fallen asleep almost at once. Or at least pretended to. He couldn’t tell for certain but he was almost convinced that she was still awake. He was proved right. As he grabbed her naked shoulder, she tensed and let out a little shocked gasp. He pulled her easily onto her back and shifted himself on top of her. He could see the fear in her large blue eyes, which looked amber under the light from the oil lantern on the nightstand. He could also smell that fear oozing from her naked body.
He used his heavy thighs and knees to knock her own legs apart and settled between them. His hardness, made like steel due to the demon part of him, had lengthened further since he had used her mouth. And the natural texture of veins and bulges of muscle had been made steel too, made to bulge and jut along the length of his human reproductive organ. It would do for now.
He allowed the thick hot club to lie there sandwiched between their groins while he took her big heavy breasts in his hands. He cupped them, marvelled at the feel of them, their softness, smoothness and warmth, even though for the moment they were mottled with goose bumps. He stroked fingers across and around the textured discs of her areolae and then pinched her nipples; gently at first, at least for him. He enjoyed the way she hissed and squirmed and let out a little fearful whimper. And then he justified her fear by pinching them hard and pulling her breasts up away from her chest by his cinching grasp of her nipples.
Her squirm turned into a writhe, but she was pinned by his weight and desperate to keep the noise to a minimum. So, she reached up and shoved a fist between her teeth. She bit down, deflecting one pain with another, and stifling her reactionary noise.
Jock smiled and licked his lips, which were openly and continually drooling saliva over her naked body. He lowered his mouth over a nipple and sucked it into his maw. Subtly dislocating his jaw so that, like a python, he could suck the whole of her large breast into his mouth. He laved it with his raspy tongue and chewed on the delightfully pliable flesh. However, he had momentarily softened his teeth so they were more like papillae; trusting that Sharon would not be able to tell the difference as he bit down on her flesh, bruising but not breaking the surface of her skin.
She shivered and wept, whimpering beneath him. Too terrified of him and perhaps of what he might do if she tried to interfere with his enjoyment or escape. Not that escape was in any way possible, not with Amanda in the next room.
Growing increasingly bored and paying full attention to the emotional and chemical needs the human body communicated, Jock finally reached down, lifted his hips and positioned his organ against her hole and then unceremoniously thrust it fully into her. It was a solid rasping penetration. But as he had well known, despite her plain fear and discomfort, her body responded to his effect on her and her hole was drooling lubrication. In fact, much of that free flow was violently displaced as he thrust his fat member into her, filling her from labia to cervix, even stretching that slick tunnel with the voracity of his initial thrust.
Sharon clamped both hands over her mouth as she was penetrated so completely. For her it was like having Jock’s arm slammed up into her. Her eyes bulged, tears splashed, almost as projectile as her pussy juices. At first her breath caught in her throat. The shock of the sudden and intense penetration, of the largest object ever to be pushed inside her, caused her whole, pinned down body to spasm. The effect locking up her lungs and diaphragm for a moment. But the moment passed and the air was unloaded as an almighty squeal from the back of her throat, barely blocked by the gag of her own hands.
Jock paid no heed. He started to thrust, and the power in his hips and speed of the back and forth propel of his buttocks was shocking to her. Even on their wedding night, when it had been their first time and Jock had been overexcited and all but mindless with the aggressive thrusting pursuit of his orgasm, that had paled next to the experience of this.
He didn’t bother to pace himself and the idea of giving pleasure to this woman certainly didn’t enter his thoughts. He was driven solely by the building depository of sexual pleasure. It was a high dive into the promise of sheer ecstasy. The dive in itself was pleasurable. And as he descended, he accelerated. The faster he happily, excitedly, tumbled the closer the promise of ecstasy came. And that promise expanded and enveloped him until it was so close it occupied his every sense, became his entire world. He fell, closer and closer until, with an almighty, earth-shattering splash, he was submerged. Enveloped by it. Ecstatically drowning in its moment of utter sexual excellence.
Sharon Chisholm had never experienced anything like it. The very really fear, shock and pain had all too soon been eclipsed by an unknowable degree of pleasure. Within minutes she had felt herself peaking. Shuddering orgasms, a cascade, each riding over the previous, crashing over and into one another, building and intensifying.
It was like ingredients in a cake, each a singular moment of sensual perfection added to the mixing bowl of her loins, until she had a wonderful mixture of candy delights inside her. They rose and grew and intensified, filling her, infusing the purity of all that joy into her until she lost herself to it discovering a blissful oblivion.
Issieki learned all he needed once he had absorbed himself into the male in black, a Catholic priest, as it was revealed. Luis José Camcho, he discovered once he had access to the man’s mind. There were many interesting facts that danced around in the priest’s mind. That the border town was split between Mexicans and Americans, that there was distrust and racial bias on both sides, though that the American Protestant Priest Father Adam Foster and Father Camcho shared the same church and they alternated in its use. And that it was meant as a show of peaceful collaboration and trust that both men were proud of, even though many of the townspeople on both sides disliked it.
Far more interesting was the woman who had remained behind to speak to Father Camcho. She was apparently a fallen woman, a faithless wife seduced by the devil and now pregnant with another man’s child. Camcho’s knowledge had revealed the man responsible had been the town’s Sheriff. Father Camcho was assisting with the woman’s spiritual saving, helping her in a material sense with advice and plans. If the child appeared white, and therefore definitely no son of the woman’s husband then Father Camcho would take the child and have him adopted by another family who had lost a child of their own in a neighbouring village. And if God blessed the mother with a child who looked ‘of the blood’ of full Mexican heritage, then she would bring the child up as her husband’s.
However, Father Camcho was also taking a rather delightfully sadistic pleasure in punishing the woman for her infidelity. He took full advantage of her dire situation, her self-loathing and desire to be punished and forgiven by God, by screwing ten shades of shit out of her at every opportunity. The more degrading and painful the better. And of course, she lapped it up believing such degrading, and disgracing treatment was just and proper atonement for her infidelity. The filthier and more degraded she felt, the more she felt she was atoning for her sin. So, she took on, without complaint the Father’s constant demands for deep throating and drinking his seed, for pressing her tongue up his ass, for taking his rampant cock and his holy seed into her vagina. And best of all, for rough and ready buggery when and however he desired. Ironically, she went so far as to bless and thank him for every punishment.
Issieki felt thoroughly impressed with the Priest’s manipulations. Yet even more so that he appeared to believe his own bullshit. He had truly managed to convince the married woman, Maria Conchita Quinteros but even more impressively, himself, that such rough and rampant coerced sexual interactions were necessary to save her soul and cleanse her of her sin.
Better still, and amusing Issieki no end, the initial sin of her impropriety with the town’s Sheriff had been a coercion all of its own. The Sheriff had arrested her husband and she had gone to the American to beg for clemency. And so, of course, the Sheriff had taken full advantage. Taking her over his desk and screwing her multiple times over a couple of hours all inside the town jail, while her husband sat stewing in the holding cell not ten yards away, out of sight but not out of range of his ears. Mrs Quinteros had been forced to stick her fist in her mouth multiple times so her loud moans and sometime whimpering would not be recognised by her husband.
The result had been Mr Quinteros being released with nothing more than a warning, and Mrs Quinteros finding herself with the Sheriff’s baby growing inside her.
So Issieki had excitedly observed as the Priest had fucked the woman’s slobbering mouth then made her lean over the arm of an old couch he had in the little vestry where he pummelled her from behind, starting in her pussy before using her juices to lubricate her ass until he dumped his priestly load inside her rectum.
Once she, sniffing and limping, had left the vestry by its rear door, the demon had slid out of the wall and taken over the Priest. Now he was busy analysing the man’s knowledge and experiences for how best to use this body and this controlling occupation to have himself a little fun.
“Where are you going, Jock?” Sharon moaned her voice hoarse, raw.
“Time to visit our pretty daughter.” Jock replied. “You can come along. Quietly though, I want to surprise her.”
“Leave her alone, Please Jock. Please. She’s your child for God’s sake!”
“If… If you want more, I’ll do it. I promise, whatever you want… I… I promise, I can take it. I’m all you’ll ever need!”
Jock could tell his wife was no longer fooled by him. Sharon was putting on an act, but the fear and recognition that he was no longer her husband was plain on her face. Even in the way she said his name. He shrugged and then decided that he might as well confirm her suspicion.
“Are you sure about that, Sharon?”
He paused and half turned, planting his naked torso into the glare of the lantern light. And as he looked into her eyes, he allowed the demon to develop a second long, fat phallus directly beneath the first. It was built up from the human parts of him, internals rewritten and reassigned, and covered in new flesh, crown, foreskin, zig-zagging veins and everything.
He grinned at her reaction. The horror, the confirmation and realisation. Then a whispered prayer through tears, and a gestured sign of the cross. Then came the secondary realisation of what she was offering him. She sobbed. The amber colouring of her robust naked flesh took on a definite greenish hue and yet she looked back up into the dark flames of his eyes , hers glistening with tears of terror. And though blatantly sickened, she nodded her head.
“Yes. You can do what you want to me… J… Jock…” She siffled, almost losing it. “I can take what… whatever you, you… do to me…”
And then, staring at his inhuman double cock, the horror of her promises over took her completely. The realisation stark and startling, she started bawling like a babe, she covered her face in her hands as though the twin cocks were too much for her to continue to look at.
That was when Amanda knocked on the door.
“Pop? Is mother okay?”
“Come in Amanda.”
Sharon wanted to scream at her daughter to run, to get away. But she found her lungs empty, her throat frozen, her vocal cords uncooperative. Before she could shake herself free of her disgust and terror, the door swung open and her daughter was standing in the doorway, barefoot, wearing only her floor length linen nightgown.
Laughing an inhumanly deep satanic laugh, Jock Chisholm erupted into a flurry of writhing, slick, grey tentacles. The human part of his flesh shredded away, like an old duster coat rotted by the elements.
The two Chisholm women both screamed in unison as they found their limbs and torsos encircled and cinched and then lifted up off the ground by weighty, powerful and writhing tentacles.
Glinty Mossop, owner of the Mossop and Son saloon, looked across at the card table which practically butted up against the side of the panelled, well used staircase, that lead to his whores. Shylock Hamell, Don Skyler and MacDonald ‘Mac’ Oxford were all regulars. Their town’s tailor and leather worker, the stable owner, and Blacksmith cum Gunsmith.
It was no unusual sight to find the three middle aged men sitting at the table playing poker. What was unusual and he still wasn’t quite sure what had incentivised him to allow her in, was the young China doll who was also at the tale playing with the guys.
Chinamen weren’t allowed in his saloon, not since Mossop senior had bought the plot of land in the burgeoning goldrush-era town and erected a drinking tent, serving out of the back of a wagon. Within two years the tents were gone and the two-storey saloon was standing in its place and serving just about everyone who came seeking their fortune and every resident who had stayed put long enough to put down roots and build families. Just about everyone. But not Chinamen, nor Blacks, nor Indians. That had been Pa’s rule. And technically it still was. So how was she here? Because she was like the sun? So beautiful that she could melt your eyes if you were to look at her too long? Yeah. He’d go with that. There are always exceptions for beauty. And he had found it almost impossible to take his eyes off her. That was why he was paying such close attention to the poker game. He had absolutely no care at all about who was winning and losing.
She had stepped into the saloon along with Hamell and Skyler, Mac had already been present, sitting at the bar with his beer. The girl had wandered over, she was wearing a white knee length girl’s dress with a peaked cap on her head. Her legs were sheathed in black stockings and she had on black boots. She glanced back at Skyler who had nodded at Mac. So, she went over and introduced herself to Mac with a polite, fresh and flighty English accent. Hamell dragged his attention away from her, which he didn’t find any easier than Mossop. He demanded a deck of cards and the chips and beers all round. By the time he had delivered the equipment and poured the drinks, the girl had finished her conversation with Mac and the two of them were heading over to the green felt covered circular table where Hamell and Skyler already sat. Mossop had missed the content of the girl’s conversation with Mac.
They four of them settled down and begun playing. After an hour Skyler was done. He stomped over to the bar and ordered whisky. Mossop could barely contain himself.
“So, what the hell is going on?” Mossop gushed.
“That girl… that girl.” He paused and sighed wistfully. “She offered stakes on a game. Stakes we couldn’t refuse.”
“I just lost. She must be cheating. Damn her. Now I have to give her one of my best horses. Not sell her. Give her! And a damned saddle to go with it. Goddamn that girl. She had to have been cheating.”
“What did she put down?”
“She won’t lose. I’m telling you. They’ll both lose out and she won’t have to give up anything.”
“What did she offer? What stake did she offer? What did she put down?”
“Herself. She offered her own honey-sweet flower of herself.” He paused, to sigh again. “She even made it easy on us. She said we have to lose all our chips and only then would she make her demand of one single item.”
“And you lost all your chips?”
“Well not in one go, but I was so damned sure. I had four of a kind.”
“Anytime she loses she’s offered the use of her body. She’s lost twice. But she doesn’t bat an eyelid. Just goes after the next hand. Course she hasn’t lost to me so I have to hand over one my best mares and I get Christ-all in return. Not even a tug job.”
Megumi had four sevens and an ace. She knew the hulking Blacksmith only had a pair of eights. While Hamell had a full house, twos and fives.
He had her beat but she was feeling lucky and confident. She upped the pot. Mac let out a huff and folded. Grinning, Hamell upped her bet. Megumi stared him down, holding his gaze for numerous seconds. And then doubled the bet. He looked back at her, seeing only cold confidence in her lovely ink pool eyes. And folded.
Megumi couldn’t resist breaking into a wide and victorious smile, as she took two thirds of his chips. The guy almost lost his temper. But the way she let out a little girlish squeal, almost like a victorious child, and danced on the seat of her wooden chair was so alluring and, in his eyes, explicitly sexual that it transformed his anger into desire and he settled back.
“You ain’t gonna finish me off girl, like you did Skyler. You’re gonna be the one to lose and I’m gonna have a whole load of fun on your ass.”
“If you do win,” she said, adding a playful wink. “I’ll make certain to have you screaming with pleasure. But first you have to win.”
“Next hand, Shylock. Come on.” Mac grunted.
Hamell shuffled and dealt. Megumi watched their eyes carefully. Her preternatural focus allowing her to read their cards as they were reflected in their irises.
This time she had the weakest hand. But both the men had lost confidence and they couldn’t discern her poker face. Though Megumi held off until Hamell had gone all in and then she folded, the first to do so, she let the two men carry on and whittle down their chips.
Mac won the hand and though Hamell had no chips left, he was able to play one last game. His stake being Megumi’s request. Of course, he lost it to the girl quick smart and had to retire over to the bar.
“So, what do you owe her?” Mossop asked with excitement.
“Pair of pants. She wants skin tight pants in leather. At least it’ll be fun to measure the lil bitch up and all. Might wrangle a little action out of it.”
“That’s right my friend, take the positives out of the loss!” Mossop applauded, pouring out the man’s commiserating shot of bourbon.
Back at the table Megumi had dealt and chose to switch out two cards. Leaving her with a straight flush. And reflected in Mac’s eyes she could read a three of a kind. Which he bolstered, swapping two cards and gaining a pair, giving him a full house. He bet low, trying to sucker the girl in. She followed his lead for a while but kept raising the bet, until it was her bringing him in. Finally, the both of them went all in.
They both flipped their cards at the same time. And Mac’s face fell, his victorious smile melting. The blind rage flickered and then exploded. He erupted to his feet, his chair knocked back off its legs as he burst up from the table.
A revolver appeared in his right hand, sweeping up and extending over the table. And then it was in the girl’s hand. Faster than lightning she had whipped out with a hand, snatched the pistol from his grasp, reversed it and pointed it back at him. She wore a coy smile throughout.
“How…? How the fuck did you…?”
“You regret pulling this out?”
“Well, now its pointing back at me… yeah.”
She laughed, very casual and girlish. The small revolver pointed at his face was solid as a rock in her hand.
“If I give it back to you, you going to try that again?”
“No, do think I will.”
“What will you do instead?” She grinned.
Her smiles and grins were intoxicatingly alluring and disarming. Mac almost felt embarrassed for having drawn on her.
“Give you what you want, I guess.”
Her grin turned back into a smile. Her lips were plush and the wet, succulent inside of her mouth enticed him, the pearly line of her perfect teeth, the wet glisten across her pink tongue. She wasn’t doing anything wanton with it but there was an undeniable feeling of the sexual all the same. He realised he was rock hard inside his pants.
The China girl flipped the pistol over in her hands, caught it by the barrel and returned it to him. He took it carefully from her small hand and with deliberate care slid it back into his jacket pocket. He was acutely aware that her eyes were locked on his, and there was a dangerous gleam in them, even though her alluring smile remained.
“So, you were the only one to win a hand against me?” She said, turning to Hamell.
“Guess so.” He couldn’t hold back a smile of his own.
“C’mon then, let’s go and give you your winnings… you wanna do it here?”
“No, we can use a room upstairs. That right, Mossop?”
“Yeah, any but the far end is free.”
“Would you too gentlemen like to make a start to arranging my winnings?”
“Don’t be so down Mr Oxford. Was it really so bad? I could offer you both a little something to take back to your wives?”
“A look at the goods?”
“Why not? Give you something to think about while you’re humping away on your women tonight.”
The two men’s grumpiness transformed into excited grins. But Hamell had already taken the China doll by the hand and was urgently tugging her toward the staircase.
Father Camcho was enjoying his new level of control over Mrs Quinteros. He had, at first, fucked her into oblivion. And then his Makai seed, absorbed into her body through her uterus lining, had taken over her mind. And she had turned into a mindless servant all for his pleasure.
Afterwards he had started to ransack the priest’s mind, pulling together his understanding of this realm and these humans, and the interactions of these particular townspeople. And most important of all, where the most fun was to be had.
Taking the priest over had been enjoyable, but quick. Issieki had stepped silently up behind the Mexican from the wall, as he was showing Maria to the door, having emptied his balls inside her for the second time in fifteen minutes. The Priest had closed the vestry door, turned and found himself face to face with the demon. Opening his mouth to scream or perhaps shout to his God. However, the Makai had thrust a limb into that gaping mouth, silencing the coming scream. At the same time, it had given him access to the human’s body. The takeover had lasted all of five seconds. And the now disguised demon had made use of the Priest’s vocal cords to call the woman back into the vestry.
She had almost fought with him this time, surprised and suspicious that her ‘penance’ for the day was not over. Though the Father hadn’t given her a chance to question or try to fight him off. Within seconds he had the woman on her back across the small couch, pinned under his weight with his erection thrusting deep into her mouth. He came as quickly as possible. Filling her throat and mouth with his virile seed.
While she bent over, choking, gasping for breath and sobbing at his violent treatment, even before his seed had absorbed itself into her body, he had stripped her naked and thrust into her. He had enjoyed the reaction of his larger than human phallus on her body and her resulting facial expression. However, when he had driven a second member up her ass and then allowed his tongue to transfigure into a third appendage and thrust its way into her mouth and down her throat all the way to her stomach… Well, if she had been capable of screaming, her resulting din would have brought the church roof down.
Now he sat on the couch in the vestry, naked, still enjoying his Priestly disguise. Though his human cock, his tongue and all four limbs now terminated in fat pliant phallic members. And sweet thirty something Maria Quinteros was kneeling, naked, at his feet and completely under his spell. He kept her busy jerking off his cocks in pairs, three more in each of her holes while the last was buried between her reasonably sized breasts, obediently pushed together by her upper arms.
Each time she brought him to climax she would direct his multiple spurts of that steaming hot, thick seed into the bottle of wine used for communion. When he got around to it, he would also mix his spunk into the font of holy water in the nave.
Jock, Sharon and Amanda had dragged all the bedding and mattresses together into the sitting room of their ranch house. Jock had also brought in a number of straw bales and together they had built themselves a comfortable horseshoe-shaped nest before the log fire. Once he was satisfied with the level of comfort, he had brought his wife and daughter into the nest and instigated a protracted and frenetic orgy. He had produced as many cock-tipped tentacles as required to fill all six holes, two pairs of hands and two cleavages.
With a phallic tipped prehensile tail filling her rectum, slamming brutally inside her whenever she tried to go against her husband’s demands, Sharon had meekly followed him to their daughter’s bedroom. Struggling to walk with her ass chock full of what amounted to a kind of manacle connecting her to the demon that had once been her husband.
Once inside, Jock had immediately pulled Amanda into his arms, forcing the terrified nineteen-year-old to accept his kisses and groping. He had elongated his tongue and thrust it deep into her throat, making her gag and even inducing her to vomit over the floorboards. Sharon still receiving her own wicked anal reaming, had followed Jock’s orders and stripped their daughter naked. Then she had wrapped herself around the girl from behind, legs locked around her waist, arms encircling her shoulders, putting Amanda into a full nelson. Then Jock had stood over her and fed his erect cock into his struggling, pleading daughter’s mouth, first prizing her jaw open with slaps and pinches and then raw brute strength. She squirmed and tried to twist her head this way and that to force him out but he grabbed her head in a vice grip and thrust balls deep. He kept her there, enjoying the feel of her scraping, biting teeth and the explicit vibrations of her muffled screams, while he skull-fucked her for a minute or two. As soon as the immense amount of his seed was jetted down her throat and into her stomach, she was under his spell.
She would probably, in fact both Amanda and her mother, be existing on the protein sustenance exclusively from now on. At least until he tired of one or the both of them.
Sharon was good, well experienced in sexual matters, as well as naturally curvaceous and still very attractive in a mature way, with a big, hefty pair of jugs that could take plenty of abuse. While Amanda was taller more slender, less robust. And for a human, she was extremely pretty, with big brown eyes and full cock-sucking lips. Her body might not be as traditionally sexually arousing or as hourglass-robust as her mother’s, but she had a kind of supple-fit tautness that was very much sexually entertaining in its own way.
Now the three of them lay convulsing, gyrating and moaning in their straw and bedding nest, slick with sweat and Jock’s sexual secretions.
Sharon was on her back with her legs akimbo, almost forming a ‘T’, was taking two cocks doubled up in her cunt, while he teased her anal mouth with a third, popping her sphincter with the crown, stretching her muscle ring. A delicious idle torture. And of course, he added a second torture at the other end; drilling her lips, mouth and throat right down into her stomach and then back out again. Making her keep her mouth open so he could slide that full distance in and out at his leisure. He didn’t keep her airway blocked for any length of time though. She was using her hands to keep her big weighty jugs pressed snuggly around another tentacle cock and he couldn’t have her passing out and relaxing the snug fit of dick and tits.
Amanda was on the other side of her father, on her hands and knees. Though her upper body had already collapsed into the bedding, her arms unable to hold her up. Though the teenage strumpet was incapable of taking two cocks in her cunt yet, that was fine. The young, previously unused human female was particularly sweet and tight in her cunt. At least for the time being. And the action of simultaneously double-penetrating her cunt and ass was providing almost as much pleasure as the double cunt fucking Sharon was being subjected to.
In a few hours he’d be getting Sharon to accept a double anal while introducing young Amanda’s cunt to pairs of his cocks. Once he had thoroughly stretched her out of course. For now, he continued to deep throat her with his natural human phallus while he teased her nipples, tits cupped and squeezed in both hands, squeezed brutally, nipples pinched and twisted with sadistic delight. Her moans and squeals of pain and protest giving delightful caresses to the cock he was thrusting in between her lips.
The golden light of the dawning sun revealed Megumi astride a lovely buttermilk American Quarter mare. She was wearing her delightfully soft and skin-tight brown leather trousers. Double stitched up to midthigh and in the crotch, they became laced from the outside seams of her upper thighs right up to the front and back panels of her waistband on both hips, that way she could enforce the tightness by ensuring the lacings were as snug as she could stand.
The remainder of the day following her poker win had seen Hamell the tailor busy cutting and shaping the soft, thin leather. He had cut a pattern from all the intricate and deliberately intimate measurements of her legs, hips, buttocks and crotch. Before he started preparing the leather. The next day had been where the hard graft had taken place. The cutting, assembly and stitching. And then the personalisation of fitting the garment specifically to the girl’s slender though powerful body shape. It was obvious that had been his favourite part of his obligation.
The garment’s seat and crotch had been moulded to her figure with oiled and wetted leather which she had worn throughout most of that second day until it dried against her body, moulding to the shape of her buttocks and pubis. It was a similar method to the shaping of hats but using her own body as a mould rather than a carved wooden recreation. She had been unconcerned about the method or any discomfort. It had been boring but it not in any way painful, and she had spent much of the time standing still in a quiet room distracted from the tedium by meditations. Her consciousness elsewhere.
The choice of the buttermilk-coloured horse had been the work of minutes rather than hours. And after a surreptitious yet mind expanding five-minute blow job behind the stables, she had convinced Skyler to throw in a saddle and a pair of saddle bags as well.
The tailor had gifted her a plain white cotton blouse in the off the shoulder, drawstring neckline peasant style. It had nice lace panels sewn into the under arms and just beneath the bust for airflow. It clung to her high, full breasts before cascading downward, finally loosely tucked into the snug waistband of her new trousers.
She had kept her own English boots, they were of good quality, hand fitted to her small feet and very comfortable, even in desert conditions unnatural to the British Isles. Finally, she had exchanged her small brimmed English cap for a wide-brimmed felt hat in light brown, with a sky-blue hat band.
The trip over to Mac Oxford’s gunsmith’s store had been a little more tricky, as it had been run by his wife, Matilda. The middle-aged woman, reasonably pleasant looking, not only occupied the serving counter but kept the shelves stacked, noted low stocks and balanced the books. Mac’s problem was how could he allow this stunning young China doll to go into the gun store, choose a revolver, a holster rig and two boxes of shells, all as promised, without paying his wife one single scent.
He had cheekily and in secret, made an arrangement with Mossop, who provided the girl with the cash to cover the bill. And then, somehow, Mac would recover from the day’s takings without his wife’s knowledge and return it to the Saloon owner that night.
It was fun for Megumi, even though she knew little about these modern guns. In Japan, they had been a rarity, lower class Samurai still handling antiquated matchlocks from over three hundred years earlier. It had only been in the last fifty or sixty years that foreigners had started to bring in modern small arms, metallic cartridges, revolvers, bolt action and repeating rifles.
As the great changes of the time of the ‘Meiji’ had started to take hold, she had chosen to go travelling, intrigued by these foreigners and their technological advances. She had flown over to England to investigate. Picked up the language and started to explore the culture. Then she had spread herself out a little wider, France, the Austro-Hungarian empire, Portugal and Spain, Poland, Russia.
However, England, or more accurately, Britain had certain innate similarities to Japan. Both empires, both island nations of similar area, both feudal in nature, furiously proud and territorial. She felt more ‘at home’ in England than other parts of mainland Europe.
And though she was almost literally on the opposite side of the globe from her brother, they could meet halfway, actually on the shores of Lake Pyasino, a small lake in western Russia. And the journey needn’t take more than an hour for each of them. Less, if they travelled at their fastest flight velocity.
It was in England that she had seen the first of the automatic-reloading pistols. Which had intrigued her and she had followed a gentleman who had procured one for himself, seduced him in order to be allowed to have a look and a test fire of the item.
The initial excitement had faded on entering the ‘Oxford Guns and Ammunition Emporium’, when she had learned that wares did not include a single example of an automatic-reloading arm. Looking along the racks and glass case displays, under the watchful gaze of Mrs Oxford, she noted their stock of lever action rifles and even a small selection of pump action coach guns. The long guns were all displayed on wall racks along the left-side wall, behind the ‘L’ shaped glass case. The actual wooden counter with its cash drawer lay at the opposite end.
Along the wall to the right of the entrance were pinned up examples of leather gear, bandoliers, cartridge belts and holsters. The rear wall facing the door, had a couple of shelves with numerous boxes of ammunition and shotgun cartridges, as well as cleaning equipment, gun oil, and brushes and the like. However, all they had in the way of pistols, which were displayed inside the glass case, were big bore revolvers. And of those almost all were forty-year-old single action mechanism examples.
“I’m sorry young lady but we don’t cater to Chinese. You’ll have to leave, understand?”
“I don’t come from China.” Megumi replied in a perfect clipped English accent.
It was enough to silence the woman behind the counter. She was tall and slender with flowing curls of dull red hair. Though her features might have been pretty twenty years prior, she was now lined, her skin mottled and pruned by exposure to the sun.
Mrs Oxford watched the young ‘not’ Chinese as she ran her eyes across the glass case separating them. She took in the majority of the pieces, thirty-year-old single actions, Colt’s, Remington’s, Smith and Wesson’s, Bulldog’s.
The proprietor was about to reiterate her refusal to serve foreign types when, without a word or a look, the young girl drew a wad of bank notes from the pocket of her white dress and fanned them out. It was enough to silence the red head for good.
The girl continued to cast her gaze over the contents of the glass case until she spotted a blue finished Smith and Wesson ‘New Model Navy’ double-action revolver. She asked to see it. It had a six-inch barrel, the new style trigger and guard. And plain checkered walnut grips, other than the trigger and its guard, it very much resembled the old Smith and Wesson Model Three. In fact, there was a pretty nickel-plated Model Three, at the other end of the display case that featured a lovely pair of ethereal looking mother-of-pearl grips. Those grips were a pearlescent glimmering white, featuring flecks of blue and green sparks and even little pink shimmers. It reminded Megumi of the beauty of the great waterfalls that could be found all over her beloved beast realm.
She purchased the double-action, and paid extra to have the walnut grips swapped for the mother-of-pearl. She bought two boxes of .44 cartridges and also picked out a simple light-tan cartridge belt, which had to be shorted drastically to fit around her slender hips. Finally she pointed out a light-tan cross-draw slim-jim holster that fit the Smith and Wesson.
She rode slowly through the night, enjoying the peace, an unspoken camaraderie with the four-legged animal, and the sweet kiss of the cold night air on her skin.
She could have flown south in mere minutes, following her nose, to the object of her mission. However, she was enjoying the game far too much.
Firstly, her sensitive nose was assuring her that, though the aroma of the Chojin was present in the Capital of the Archipelago, but the scent of him was not yet strong enough to imply an imminent incarnation. There was still plenty of time to waste.
Secondly, while over in England she had read a couple of penny dreadfuls detailing the James Gang and Billy the Kid respectively, and was determined to enjoy playacting the romanticised version of the American West she had read about. There was no rush to deal with those two Makai trouble makers, whatever they were up to.
There was no doubt the Makai would know of her. She could picture them afraid of her, yet excited at the same time. Their kind were all the same. And she would be on their minds no matter what mischief they were getting up to. She liked the idea of that. They weren’t going anywhere; their scent was strong in her nostrils, leading her inexorably southward. She had all the time in the world.
And the hunt was on.
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