Warning: This is a very dark story containing many disturbing themes such as noncon, humiliation, degradation, corruption, sexual slavery, misogyny, sadomasochism and more. Do not read this story unless you are okay with extreme content relating to the listed themes.
I do not condone or endorse any of the activities described in this story. Sexual fantasies can be a fun and safe way to explore fetishes but always treat real people with respect. Fantasize responsibly. ^^
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Dread stood on the crest of a grassy knoll, surrounded by an idyllic pastoral landscape, gently warmed by golden rays of sunlight. There were no trees or even the hint of a forest to detract from the clear visibility. Rolling, emerald grass stretched out in every direction to greet the warm horizon. Patches of wildflowers clumped together in bright splashes of vibrant color. A field of infinitely deep blue sky tented overhead, as vast and unknowable as the sea. No clouds blemished the pale blue canopy.
Despite being beautiful, the uncanny setting proved unnerving. The grass held too green a hue with not a single dehydrated flaxen blade. The sky projected too perfect a visage, unnaturally absent of any cloud. Most of all, the colors were overly bright, false in their vibrancy. He felt as if he'd been added to a painting by the strokes of a brush rather than occupying a real place in space. With that thought, Dread knew he was dreaming, but he did not wake.
A crystalline pond demanded his attention, gluttonous for his appraisal, and his eyes swiveled to settle on the reflective surface. Had it been there before? Dread thought not. Just moments earlier, though they felt years previous, he'd been surrounded by nothing but grass and gentle hills. Now, this pool dominated his perception.
Dread's feet moved unbidden by his mind. In the way of dreams, he found himself walking as if tugged by an invisible rope. As his proximity to the pond grew, so did his uneasiness.
Standing at the edge of the tranquil water, undisturbed and indistinguishable from glass, he studied his reflection. A handsome man looked back. Himself, King Dreadhex of the Dark Lands, a dark-haired, brown-eyed mage in his middle years with a cold, cruel cast to his gaze. Eloth's pink eye was absent. The reflection presented Dread as he had been, unaltered by the influence of ancient gods.
A ripple disrupted the pristine surface of the pond. Soft splashing sounds drew his attention like a beggar to a crumb. A beautiful woman bathed in the pond. No, not a woman, a girl, and not just beautiful, but divine. A woman girl so perfect she could've fooled him for a sculpture, but she flaunted all of the appealing soft plumpness of flesh.
As Dread studied her, he found it impossible to pin down her age. His guesses changed constantly, different with every new angle, flipping between the dusk of youth and the dawn of maturity. A plush sheet of bright pink hair flowed down her naked back, obscuring her pale, porcelain skin, and her laugh tinkled as she turned to eye him from over a slender shoulder. Green augers formed her eyes, equally beautiful and abnormal. A glowing green ring framed forest green irises dotted by pupils white as virgin snow.
Dread wanted to dominate her, control her, and defile her. He longed to grip her curves with his fingers, to fill her with his cock until she screamed, but his legs refused to move. His conscious mind held no sway over his traitorous body.
"Dreadhex," the woman sang.
Her words were spoken, but her voice volleyed a melody. Every sentence she uttered became a lyric in a classic song. She reminded Dread of Myla but older. Yes, certainly older, maybe even centuries older. Riper too. A very sweet piece of fruit grown lush and juicy on the vine.
"Do you desire me?" she asked.
Dread cleared his throat. "Yes," he croaked. Vertigo sent his mind reeling in a dizzy spiral.
The woman faced him, still submerged, and revealed the most ideal cleavage he'd ever seen. Sharp features defined her angular face, and her beauty defied the mundane. She rose from the pond, water sheeting from her glistening skin, and revealed a beckoning cunt crowned by a triangular patch of pink pubic hair. Dread met her eyes and the pale green irises expanded. The halos of her eyes grew until they swallowed everything else and he shrank before twin green burning suns.
A touch on his cheek sent his awareness crashing back into his body, standing at the edge of the pool. The intoxicating creature stood within reach. Overwhelmed with an urge to touch her but unable to shift a muscle, Dread experienced sharp frustration.
"Do you want to ravish me?" she asked in a euphonious tone.
"Yes," Dread said.
Oh, what he would have given to reach out and grab her hair, pull her down, and fuck her senseless. Trading his entire treasury, years of his life, and all of his new land in the Silken City to taste her struck him as a bargain.
Her face hovered but an inch from his own, and he drank in all the details. An acutely angled nose, wide and high cheekbones, lips like dark cherries, and a spike of a chin. Sunken cheeks in a skullish head with jutting brows cut an image of severe beauty. On anyone else, her facial structure would be too much, but the extreme nature of her image suited her perfectly and elevated her into a realm of irresistible seduction.
The woman smiled, and her gleaming teeth sharpened into fangs. Her green eyes burned like underworld torches. Her mouth widened into a maw. Beautiful, striking features warped into the ferocious countenance of a predator.
Fear struck at Dread's core, and his mind sent a command to his limbs. Scramble away, flee! This creature was more dangerous than any he'd ever encountered. Still, she was striking beyond measure. His limbs refused to comply with his brain's alarm to run, and he stood frozen.
Soft hands reached up, smooth fingers sharpening into gnarled talons, and she gripped the sides of Dread's head. His body trembled violently, and he grew angry at his own craven reaction. He was Dreadhex, King of the Dark Lands, pact-striker with Vakiir and Eloth. He feared no one. And yet, she terrified him.
Her fingers drilled into his skin, penetrating the sides of his face, and he opened his mouth to scream. No sound escaped.
"Myla is under my protection," the woman sang. A discordant, frenetic shriek that reverberated in Dread's bones.
No, not a woman at all. Butterfly wings flapped out from slits in her frail shoulders and captured the sunlight. Flashing prismatic reflections in the rounded wings blinded him and seared his eyes until they smoked.
Dread tried again to scream, but he was mired in the bewitching embrace of a fairy. Her hypnotic allure stamped out any of his agency, and Dread was helpless in her grasp. All of his will and strength of personality were rendered null in the proximity of this wicked, lovely, ancient creature.
"I will flay the skin from your meat, worm," the fairy howled. A clanging crescendo with the force of a hellish chorus. Blood ran from Dread's punctured eardrums.
Dread smelled rot and glanced down to discover his muscles spoiled swiftly into rancid decay. The roiling soup of his flesh boiled away to reveal bone.
The fairy's fingers sank deeper into Dread's cheeks, and her wild pixie face reared towards him. Her teeth numbered in the thousands, lining the spiral of her jaw, and each was jagged with serrated edges. Those teeth were designed to sunder flesh.
"I will snap your feeble bones and feast on your marrow," the fairy chanted. The lyrics of her sublime, awful song sank into Dread with the weight of inevitability.
"Release Myla or I will curse your charcoal soul," the fairy's voice jingled. "Your every waking moment will be haunted by misfortune. You will know naught but misery and suffering, but I will not let you die. I will cook your mind on a spit until the juices of your thoughts fizzle and pop."
Dread tried to speak, to assure her that he would abide by her wishes and leave Myla alone, but he couldn't speak. The fairy held his wriggling, flapping tongue impaled on a long, razor talon, and her voice whistled with a high-octave auditory assault.
"You need no tongue," she screeched. "A beast need only nod."
