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"thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "pools": [ { "pool_id": "93331", "name": "Commissions", "description": "Paid for word", "count": "14", "submission_left_submission_id": "3637948", "submission_left_file_name": "5597244_GuiltyDen_tb_part_5.rtf", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5597/5597244_GuiltyDen_tb_part_5.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5597/5597244_GuiltyDen_tb_part_5.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5597/5597244_GuiltyDen_tb_part_5.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "A wonderful commission for [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/user/joseff-smoughseph/]Joseph Smoughseph[/url].\n\nI loved getting to work on this one, even if work and the world did all they could to get in the way. It tickles so many fetishes of mine, and the setting has special significance to me.\n\nAll characters are property of Joseph Smouseph.\n\nIf you have enjoyed, and think you believe I deserve it, I have a tip jar with [url=https://ko-fi.com/guiltyworkshop]Ko-fi[/url]. Otherwise, a comment is worth just as much to me, so I can know what worked and didn't for you.\n\nI'll next be working on a personal piece, and then I have had a tip for a prequel to the \"Fairy Well\" duology.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A wonderful commission for Joseph Smoughseph.

I loved getting to work on this one, even if work and the world did all they could to get in the way. It tickles so many fetishes of mine, and the setting has special significance to me.

All characters are property of Joseph Smouseph.

If you have enjoyed, and think you believe I deserve it, I have a tip jar with Ko-fi. Otherwise, a comment is worth just as much to me, so I can know what worked and didn't for you.

I'll next be working on a personal piece, and then I have had a tip for a prequel to the "Fairy Well" duology.", "writing": "It was a cold start to Alexei's day. A chill had come upon them, following along the Urals to promise a traditional frozen winter in a few months. Alexei didn't mind it though, in fact he was glad of it, as it drove him from his bed, and forced a little wakefulness into his tiring bones.\n\nThe grey dog shuffled his thicker winter jacket around his shoulders, pulling the side breast tight with a corded sash. He'd never felt old in his bones before, and in truth he wasn't, though perhaps it would have been impolite of him to ride in the cavalry any longer, such chances for glory belonged to younger men. However, the last week of restless dreams had left him drained, creaking, and his mind wandering in a fashion that made him remember his father at the end of his life.\n\nSuch thoughts followed him down to the morning meal, the humble palace quiet for its size. Times were hard in the outer provinces, and even a Boyar had need to tighten his purse strings, leaving his house with but the barest few loyal retainers while he awaited his fortune's return. So stepping through the painted doors of fashions past, he found his table host to only two fine young women, who each rose and bobbed to him.\n\n“Good morning Papa.”\n\n“Good morning Sir.”\n\nSmiling, the pale grey borzoi gave a bow as if greeting the most noble beauties of St. Petersburg, which he then compared them too as he creaked into his chair, and waved them both to stop being silly and resume their meal.\n\nHe beamed proudly at the prettier of the pair, at least to his eye, for what father would he be if his daughter was not the most beautiful creature in his life. Lilita was pure Borzoi, like himself, and she had flowered well into womanhood, now entering her third decade. The bodice of her blue French dress, a gift she had begged from him, and he had only ever pretended to begrudge the expense, now strained to contain the fullness of her body. The faint cream curls in her coat, so much like her mother, spilled out about the breast, puffing her bosom with overabundance. Just as the pinched waist did the same to her hips, tail, and pert bottom. So much like her mother, he looked on dreamily, remembering wild nights of passion, of holding and stroking and-\n\n“Tea, Sir?”\n\nHe chocked back such indecent memories, brought to his senses as his daughter's companion, the family maid, poured for him. Sheepishly, he took it, and used it as an excuse to transfer his gaze from his darling Lilita, to the odd one out of their company.\n\nEliza was distinct amongst his staff, and had certainly raised a stir when fortunes had been better, and they'd lived in their town house in the capital. With dark purple scales, teal membranous wings, and prehensile tail the length of her body, the draconic maiden's family had likely come through Turkey, perhaps as far away as Arabia. A foundling, he'd taken her on shortly after Lilita's mother had passed, not just to aid in the womanly tasks of the household, but to be companion and friend to his then grieving daughter.\n\nIn fact, while never so much as to be indecent, Alexei had often been remarked to have two daughters, for he did tend to favour the scaled woman a little more than other nobility would their own servants. His paternal affections for the maid went so far that, just as he had tried to arrange a suitor for his beloved Lilita, he had taken to ensuring that Eliza was present at any gatherings containing young men of suitable station. He’d even hinted at have been willing to provide a modest dowry should any gallant wish to have her.\n\nAnd just as with his own flesh, he couldn't stop his wandering eye from lingering on the distinct curves that came with her kind.\n\n“Will you be needing me at all today, Sir?” She asked sweetly, a slight purr caused by the rasp of a reptilian throat.\n\nDoing his best to be true to himself, Alexei assured her that she did enough already, and he would be out seeing to the state of the smaller settlements, and wouldn't subject either of the pair of them to such a dull chore, and long ride.\n\n“In which case I will take my leave to help tend Father Bekski. I'll be back this afternoon.”\n\nWith that, Eliza bobbed a curtsy, shared a smile with Lilita, and swayed her plump tail out of the room.\n\n“That girl shouldn't be wasting her time having to dote on old men,” Alexei sighed, sipping the sweet, herbal tisane, “she should be thinking more of her future. If only the Patriarch hadn't saddled Father Bekski with that handful of a Sister, then our Eliza could put her efforts into younger men.“\n\nLilita tittered, covering her mouth to hide her smile.\n\n“Oh, clearly your father has said something foolish, to make you laugh at him so,” Alexei said, feeling peevish as his daughter smirked and giggled.\n\n“No, no, nothing at all, Papa,” the young woman countered, hiding her mirth poorly. “I just feel that Eliza doesn't need much help in finding herself male attention.”\n\nNarrowing his eyes suspiciously, Alexei finished his cup, feeling warm and flustered, before quitting the table himself. Later climbing into his carriage, his driver noted a certain agitation, and lack of focus in his master's eyes.\n\n“Nothing enough to stop me, Boris. But I will be glad of my bed come our return, now let's be off.”\n\n***\n\n[b]“десять.”[/b]\n\nHe tossed and turned, the soft touch of silk across his body not sheets, but the caress of ethereal fingers. A nail running through his fur, from behind the ear, down his neck, circling his Adam's apple. The faint scratch, the drag, the coolness of the prickle, the heat of the trail. \n\n[b]“девять.”[/b]\n\nHe could feel her. Her breath rolling against his ears, huffing and purring, smelling of spice, and need. Her body was on him, dragging against his arm, his shoulder, while her fingers ran spirals through his pelt. Firm flesh, pressing against his own, sending warmth through his skin, radiating contentment and joy, likewise making other parts ache with longing.\n\n[b]“восемь.”[/b]\n\nHe felt weightless, suspended, the world becoming water, and his body buoyed on strange tides. The touch had gone lower, leaving runnels through his coat, as it dragged and spiralled down his belly, catching on his flat, male, teats, prompting them to stand tall in the cool air, and be plucked one by one. He gasped, or tried to, his lungs reluctant to inflate in his slumber, leaving him on that cusp of waking, yet always denied.\n\n[b]“Семь.”[/b]\n\nOh god, how he wished she ended there to let him sleep. And simultaneously how he begged the dream to go on, for that touch to travel south, to wrap about his sheath, to tug and roll and stimulate his dormant flesh. He felt lips kissing at his neck, a tongue lap and curl his fur, and stubbornly those fingers stayed, arrested at his navel, letting his tired mind do all the work as he envisioned a body of golden fur, of plump breast, of familiar scent.\n\n[b]“Шесть.”[/b]\n\nA growl broke his muzzle, lips fluttering in wheezing breath, as at last the woman, her features swimming, her aroma so appealing, drifted down. He was floating atop a roiling sea, motion rocking him, or he rocking it in waves, as now his hips rolled in needy anticipation. He hungered for what would come next, how firm claw would be replaced with moist lips, how lusts sunken in the deep recesses of his psyche would bubble up and resurface.\n\n[b]“Пять.”[/b]\n\nRolling wet, a tongue lapped up from below his sheath, going from sac to apex, and in doing so making his own damp flesh come forth and cool in the air. He couldn't see, but he knew, he could imagine clearly in his mind. Soft golden fur, a long and playful muzzle, eyes that seemed almost devilish in their teasing of him, just as her tongue seemed to be a tool of infernal temptation. Feelings echoed back over years stirred new passions, as his grey and veined member pulsed and grew, dribbling his own dampness into his belly.\n\n[b]“Четыре.”[/b]\n\nShe would be gorgeous, he knew, the owner of that maw. The mouth that dragged down his spire again, and worried playfully at his pouch. He whimpered and bucked, as on her next ascent, her lips pursed, and wrapped around the head. Oh how he would have screamed her name, how he had missed having it on his own lips, but all he could do was float above that bottomless abyss, and feel as his member sank into oblivion before him.\n\n[b]“Три.”[/b]\n\nHumid warmth surrounded him, adding erotic slurps to the soundscape of his imaginings. Flesh sliding within a velvet glove, her maw sealed tight, her tongue lashing. It was exquisite. Every moment sent his heart racing, made his brain dance, as the pleasure mounted higher and higher. He was moaning, grunting, his face screwed up and lost in his delirium. He wanted more, longed for relief, for release from the beautiful nightmare in the most primal fashion of his repressed male urges. That perfect mouth, and the throat beyond, rose and fell, just as his hips did the same, dragging more earthly pleasure from his nightly fantasies.\n\n[b]“Два.”[/b]\n\nHis fingers clawed the air, seeking the silken ears, the warm curls, the face of his love, so he might force her down all the harder! So he might thrust and buck as a young dog, to take his intended as carnally and ferociously as he could only do in dreams. He grasped nothing, of course, but in that dream he held her by the nape, stroked features he knew by heart, and pounded home with unrelenting need. She fought briefly in play, before submitting to his rampant lust, and taking him to her hilt. Tight constricting bands of muscle closed on turgid cock, as hungry as his loins, as perfect as his fantasies. Till in a torturous slurp, her touch lifted, his grip as elusive as smoke.\n\n[b]“Один.”[/b]\n\n'No, come back!' He cried out in his dream, on the cusp of completion, knot full and proud, balls throbbing and twisting. The ghostly lover laughed, silent, but her touch was still real, leaning over him now, breasts crushing into his chest, her nipples driving hard into his skin, her weight pressing the air out of his lungs. Wetness wrapped around him again, slicking back and forth, up and down, tantalising him with images of her feminine sex, ready and eager for him, burning in heat and need, just as he was full of lust. Her breath was in his neck, teeth at his throat, scent deep in his nose. He wanted her, needed her, had to have her. He felt lips part, a kiss beneath his ear, a tongue tracing the cartilage, before she spoke in a breathy whisper; “Papa.”\n\n[i]'Snap!'[/i]\n\nHe was undone, the woman in his arms was undeniably not his wife, not his lost love. His dream of Lilita cooed into his fur, as his cock spurted across his pelt, as it painted her familial flesh, as it sullied her grey and cream coat in the seed of her father and condemned them both to-\n\n***\n\nA sharp knocking at the door jolted Alexei firmly out of lustful dreams, and into panicked wakefulness. The sun was truly up, light splitting the gap between the curtains, sounds of life echoing about the house, and a distinctive dampness was covering his crotch.\n\n“Sir,” Eliza called from beyond the door, “Breakfast has already been cleared, so I brought yours up with me. I'll just put it on the table while I make your bed and tidy for you.”\n\nFrantically, the ashamed Boyar cast his eyes about the room as he heard the handle turning. Eliza, so used to being free in his company, had no hesitation in entering her employer's bed chamber. He could not bare to think of the girl he'd raised, practically as a daughter, seeing him in nothing but a soiled nightshirt. In fevered desperation, he spotted his only chance to save his dignity.\n\nWhen the dull scaled dragon maid entered the room, she found it seemingly empty, till a rustle drew her eyes to the old privacy screen that had gone unused the entire time she'd served her master, having belonged to his wife, and being abandoned in the palace ever since her death.\n\n“Oh, I didn't know you were still changing Sir,” the dutiful maid chimed, “I'll just place the tray on your desk, and start on the cleaning. Do you need any assistance dressing?”\n\n“No!” He coughed, having failed to hide his startled bark, “no, that's fine, thank you Eliza. I'm not an old man who needs help with his trousers.”\n\nBehind the painted wooden screen, Alexei was already naked, desperate to be free of the ruined cloth, and praying that the young woman's nose wasn't as sharp as his own. Both his drawers and his nightshirt stank of his nighttime expulsion, a greasy stain visible and still tacky to the touch. His midriff and thighs were not much better, but until the ever dutiful dragon left, he would have no chance of reaching the basin to remove the evidence.\n\n“Of course not Sir. Oh, it is a little stuffy isn't it, should I open the window to let in some fresh air?”\n\nGritting his teeth, he did his best not to snap at her and tell her to just leave him to his embarrassment. But that would just draw greater scrutiny, and he did not wish to upset Eliza for simply being good at her job.\n\n“Yes, yes that would be fine. You don't need to make a fuss of me, I'm sure you have other things to see to,” he gave a quiet plea, huddling against his cover to give as little chance she might catch him cowering like a young pup afraid of a bath.\n\n“Oh no Sir, most of the work has already been done. When I'm finished here, I'll likely just go into town to see to Father Bekski again, and run a few errands. I'll be back in time to help with supper, and anything else should you need.”\n\nShe'd begun humming, as she worked, bustling about the room while he waited with bated breath for his chance to slip out without her notice. If only he'd had a chance to grab his clothes from where they'd been left for him, at least then he could hide his shame, but they sat folded at the bedside, neglected in his haste, where of course she spotted them.\n\n“Oh, are you wearing something different today Sir? Should I put these away for you?”\n\nHer voice came from just behind his ear, parted by just a few centimetres of board, her claws clacking on the wooden floor as he saw her shadow approach the screen. He could smell her subtle perfume, hear her breath, imagine the warmth of her body, as she was so close to discovering his nakedness.\n\n“That's fine! Just leave them there, I, um, fancied a change, what with the weather we're having.” He lied, blushing bright beneath his whiskers, now acutely aware of the rise the situation was getting out of him. His paws were no longer obscuring just a messy sheath, but the wet tip of the member that had gotten him into such a situation. “Anyway, perhaps later I should accompany you, to see the holy Father. See how he's doing for myself.”\n\nInternally he muttered 'And see if he can offer some spiritual guidance, or absolution, for all this.'\n\nThere was a brief pause from the other side of the partition, and for a heart stopping moment the naked man feared she'd spotted, or smelled, something about his predicament.\n\n“Oh... I wouldn't trouble yourself much, Sir.” Eliza continued, walking away before the rustling of fabric said she was back to making his bed. “Father Bekski's condition is quite severe, he needs much tending at the current time. Why, did you have need of him, Sir?”\n\n“No, nothing, nothing much at all. Just, much on my mind, the business between men, been a little troubled is all.” Alexei rambled, desperate for Eliza to finish and be on her way.\n\n“Well I'm sure some herbal tea and good sleep will see to it. I'll make sure to prepare some for you this evening.” She chirped, and the sound of her sweeping back towards the door was like music to his ears. “Anyway, the room is done, so I shall take my leave, enjoy your breakfast, Sir.”\n\nHe didn't let out his breath until he heard the door latch.\n\n***\n\nLater; washed, dressed, and only half as humiliated as he had felt that morning, Alexei was buried in his books. The tedious, but necessary, drudgery of accounting seemed a certain cure for his lustful thoughts.\n\nThe last of summer's tally had come in, as had the petitions from his serfs, and on top of that he had received a letter from Prince Dolokhov, informing him he'd be expected to host him and several connected friends from Moscow for a hunting trip in the coming weeks. That would require funds he had not set aside, and thus a great deal of re-balancing needed to occur, if not outright borrowing.\n\nAll while his sleep addled mind was doing its utmost to distract him. His eyes wandered over the figures, the neat lines, and attempted to contort them into the shapes of breasts, hips, thighs, and other softnesses.\n\nMore than once, he found his fingers drifting to the decanter at his side, along with a neglected luncheon, the amber brandy looking ever more tempting a distraction.\n\nPushing away such notions, as he was a proper man and not a drunkard, he instead chose to soothe his head with fresh air. Opening the window, the cold breeze did indeed refresh him, and a deep inhale did wonders to clear the visions that danced just behind his eyelids.\n\nWhen Alexei opened his eyes again, looking out along the path towards the settlement, they were drawn to a vivid splash of colour, as two figures in bright dresses walked arm in arm. Lilita and Eliza were unmistakable, the young pair having clearly met on the maid's return, and were taking a stroll in the early afternoon together.\n\nHe was at once transfixed, at first just content to watch and smile paternally, then soon being hypnotised by the swaying motion of hips, the rise of fall of the Eliza's skirts, and the full and suggestive swell of Lilita's bustle. The middle-aged male gulped, wide-eyed, as the seductive roundness of his daughter's dress forced him to note what else was smooth, and curved, and rounded about her.\n\n'Damned corsets, what devil possessed me to buy it for her?' He bit his lip, tracking every step the good friends took. 'I should order her not to wear it so much, lest she make herself ill. But then, that would make me look like a stupid old fool. Better to let her have it and simply ignore- oh, oh Lord...'\n\nThe pair had stopped, Lilita turning to laugh and smile, and Alexei felt his loins burn hot as the busts of both young women, visible in profile, jostled and jumped, while they playfully slapped at each other like siblings. He could see the fabric straining to contain them each, and could easily picture such lush beauties in his palms, as he-\n\nTearing himself away, an overspill of brandy stained Prince Dolokhov's letter, as Boyar Alexei drowned out his evils in drink.\n\n***\n\nIt was dark now, Alexei believed his crusted eyes were still shut, before realising he was staring into unlit night. Just the subtle light from the small study window let the groaning man drag his surroundings back into focus. He'd fallen asleep, passed out at his desk, the same numbers that had failed him now mocking him in smudged ink, that and the ache in his head, and a devil of a thirst.\n\nHe needed a drink, and not another glass of spirits.\n\nStumbling, he found his feet and staggered from his office into the gloomy hall. With how quiet it was, he knew the hour must must be late, the rest of the palace having retired to their homes or their beds. Which suited him better, given it would mean none would see his dishevelled, disgraceful, state.\n\nNavigating by memory, Alexei tripped his way about his own home, head pounding, each footfall intolerably loud. He was headed for the kitchen, intent on wetting his throat, and perhaps sating the gnawing hunger from missed meals. So he was almost pleasantly surprised to see light coming from under the sturdy door, no doubt the cook making preparations for tomorrow, perhaps willing to indulge their master with a late meal.\n\nIndeed, something smelled good, as he placed a paw upon the handle. Sweet and spiced, with an underlying earthiness. It was as foreign as it was intriguing, and the growling stomach of the Boyar led him to open the way with an excited grin. A grin which faded, and was lost in horror as soon as his eyes made sense of what he saw.\n\nLit by just the dull light of a single candle, and what little escaped from the coals of the oven, the room was warm, musky, like the lair of a beast, or the inside of a belly, with the low, curved, arch of the walls and ceiling. The aroma was stronger, cloyingly saccharine, and more noticeably animal, adding to the air of foreboding. But nothing impressed upon him the feeling of having stepped into hell, as much as the lone figure within.\n\nCast almost entirely in shadow, visible more as an impression of black within the dull interior, the horned thing crooned and hummed, a wicked, lashing tail, swaying to-and-fro, as they laboured before a small cauldron. Spines adorned them, from the horns on their head, to full protrusions on their front, as the thing bore a perversity of the female silhouette. Beneath a jutting muzzle, a long and slender neck grew into a gross swell of a bosom, pendulous and heavy, it visibly sloshed as the thing toiled and worked them, for a clawed hand could be seen gripping and tugging a monstrous spike of a nipple, which squirted freely into the pot with the sound of sizzling rain.\n\nTheir digits worked as a dancing shadow, and the horrified man could only follow, as when one phallic teat was drained, the figure worked down, over a somewhat bulging gut, to between a thick pair of thighs. Another jutting '[i]udder[/i]' rose proud there, which when tweaked dripped a thick and gluey residue. This too was caught, captured on a talon, and dropped into the bubbling brew.\n\nThe figure huffed, hissed, and moaned, as they stirred the concoction, the sounds of their pleasure mixing with their singing, just as their fluids did with their potion.\n\n“Witch,” Alexei choked out, aghast at the infernal spectre, and at once realised his mistake, when two shining eyes swung and almost physically sent him reeling back from the door.\n\nThe suddenly sober Boyar stumbled, turned tail, and fled, feet scrabbling at the stone tiles, as dread unlike any he'd experienced in battle took hold of his heart, and thrust his tail firmly between his legs.\n\nWitchcraft. In his house, beneath his own roof. And with the state he was in, he had no choice but to flee, to take his family and escape the creature's accursed influence, and seek sanctuary at the church. He could only pray his daughter and Eliza were not yet tainted by the vile magic, as clearly that was what had been bewitching his thoughts the past week.\n\nRunning as if the hounds of hell were at his heels, Alexei threw himself down the halls, bashing off the corners, scrabbling at the walls, as the whole palace took on a sinister air, the shadows seeming to reach for him, the flickering lamps casting dancing demons across every surface. He nearly tripped, his own feet feeling leaden, and his breath ragged, as the pain in his head grew to a splitting migraine. Through his swimming vision, the father and master of the house spied the door to his daughter's chambers, and dragged himself against the stout wood, his fevered fingers flailed at the handle.\n\nHe was about to speak her name, to command her to dress and come at once, but a moan from inside sent a chill up his already frozen spine. It was not a moan of pain, but of the intimate pleasures of a woman.\n\nFear not forgotten, but held at bay by the dreadful plummeting of his heart, Alexei's hand finally closed about the handle. The door opened, as did his mouth, and as were his daughter's thighs.\n\nSpread out upon the bed, her legs bent at the knees, in nothing but her golden fur, Lilita lay deep in her personal pleasure. One hand, fingers curled to a cupping palm, was wrapped around her exposed breast, while the other was nestled between her thighs. Her moans came in time with each pump she made, a wet slick visible on every digit as her wrist rocked back and forth, her paw pads stroking at the pink nub of her clitoris. Her body was tense, her toes curling, as she rolled her hips, the creamy fur of her inner thighs showing dark from the moisture of her arousal.\n\nIt made the horrified father harder than he had any memory of being his whole life. He could barely look away, the sight of his naked, beautiful daughter, burning into his retinas, but with an effort of will, he wrenched his eyes aside, turning about, intent perhaps on going for his own room, to retrieve his sabre, and defend her door. But when he wheeled around, it was to find himself face to face with the other woman he had sought to find instead.\n\nAlexei was about to bluster his way into an apology, an excuse, and a hurried explanation for his behaviour, but was forestalled as Eliza, grinning like the devil himself, grabbed the hem of her skirts, and pulled them up to her breast.\n\nUnable to stop himself from looking, the man had but seconds to gasp, as at the maid's naked crotch was a swollen, bulging, erection. The pseudo-penis, moulded from her clitoris, small and rubbery, jolted before his eyes before it spat a thick string of white across them. The scent blinded him as much as the clinging ejaculate, turning the world to black.\n\n***\n\n[b]“Шесть.”[/b]\n\nLike burning ice, a tingle ran up the Boyar's unsheathed cock. Teasing, it had already succeeded in drawing his whole grey-pink length out of hiding, so as to let that touch go from the veiny base, to the twitching tip. Then, there was a pause, a torturous, cruel, moment of stillness, before it traced its path again, up and down, up and down, over and over. It was like the devil's tongue, and the poor man could do nothing but moan, and plead for more, as his hips juddered, his member bounced, but his legs unable to kick or thrash.\n\nSlowly, as the sensation grew, so did consciousness. Boyar Alexei, biting his tongue to contain his whimper from the weakness of his flesh, found his eyes focusing on the ceiling of his own bedroom, before falling. The touch was feather-light, as it was in fact a feather, plucked from a duster, the long grey quill pinched in the grip of the one who he had given it to.\n\nSitting at his side, the garnet eyes of Eliza looked down on him, a smirk of the most devilish glee twisting her features.\n\n“Eliza…” he groaned, and when he went to grab her hand to stop her erogenous act, he realised he was bound, spread-eagled atop his sheets. Not quite naked, he'd been allowed to keep his drawers, however the taunting of the woman's tool had caused his cock to bulge beyond their confinement, adding to his discomfort. “What are you doing?!”\n\n“Oh Sir,” the reptilian woman leered, flashing teeth that seemed a little long for her dainty maw. “I'm just helping you with your needs~.” Her breathy, raspy, purr of a voice made him shiver, or perhaps that was the feather, fluttering around his urethra.\n\n“[b]Пять[/b],” she spoke again, and a fresh pulse of heated blood ran down his spine, up through his shaft, to make it bulge even more grossly.\n\n“He-help me with- Stop that!” he protested, chewing his cheek to stop from making a more obscene sound. “H-how is this... helping me!? What's gotten into you, girl?!”\n\n“[b]Четыре[/b].” She did not relent, only smiled even more wickedly, leaning in as she worked, so now her breath added more humidity to the rising air of his dampening crotch. “Teaching you to enjoy yourself, Sir. It's not healthy to keep these lustful urges, these natural impulses, all bottled up inside. [b]Три[/b].”\n\nHe throbbed again, and now couldn't hold in the moan. Each time she counted down, each time she used that Voice, his loins ached with a contained, bound, chained pleasure. Burning male need, distilled and amplified, rocked his rod with enough force he fancied he might tear his underwear.\n\n“As for what's gotten into me, inside me? Why Sir, that would be my Master, he's been, [i]everywhere[/i]~.”\n\nA cold chill grew in Alexei then, as a flick of the wanton woman's eyes made him keenly aware that they were not alone in the moonlit room. Hidden in shadow, indistinct against the black, a figure, tall and horned, sat motionless in Alexei's own armchair, watching passively with glowing, slitted eyes. The Boyar looked into those orbs with their inner light, and gulped, knowing it must be the devil himself he looked upon, only the great enemy could stoke such fear, or cause Eliza to have fallen to such depravity.\n\n“[b]Два[/b].” Eliza continued her torture, and now the feather was but one of the torments he suffered, for the maid had, at some point, slipped her free hand beneath his drawers, her claws scraping about his tight, straining, sac. “Oh Sir, I can feel how desperate you are to satiate that need, that thirst inside you. Just as I was once. Don't worry, by then end of the night, you'll be just like me, and never want for pleasure again~.”\n\n“Like you?” With a painful effort, he pulled his eyes away from the thing in the chair, and saw at once what his mind had refused to accept. This was no longer his Eliza, the chaste and dutiful girl he'd been so proud of. Her draconic horns had lengthened, curled about her ears, taken on a pearlescent sheen. Aside from the lengthening of teeth and horns about her face, he saw other aspects of her had become engorged, bloated in a phallic way. Her nipples protruded a full fingers length, fat and turgid, unfit to be on a woman's body. Each was ran through with piercings, three golden studs a side, puffing up the flesh further in a way that made Alexei deeply uncomfortable to even look upon. A scent came with her too, cloyingly sweet, pungently animal, and undeniably of sex, her dark purple scales rippled with the aroma of lust in a haze, that only grew worse when she swung a thigh over the lip of the bed, and revealed her naked labia. They too, were pierced, ran through with hoops. What should have been a dainty bud at their apex was instead the same grotesque protuberance of a pseudo-cock that he now remembered, as stiff as his own member, but a third the mass.\n\nLady no more, she was her Master's creature now. A demoness, a temptress, corrupter of the fleshly pleasures, with designs upon his immortal soul.\n\n“Not long now, Sir. [b]Один[/b].” The throb that came then was painful, his mast at full tilt, unable to engorge anymore, veins bulging, skin stretching, tract rippling. “Just a snap of my fingers, and all that tension, all that lust, will come spilling out. All I need to do is-”\n\nHe squawked and hollered like a man on the gallows, watching her raise two painted claws, wet with pre, before his eyes. “Wait! Wait no! Stop! Eliza! Stop! Haven't I been good to you? Haven't I been fair? Please, be fair to me! Give me a chance! I didn't want to be here, I didn't want this!”\n\n“Hmmm,” the teasing succubus paused, the feather dropping, but her fingers pinched still. “Well, I guess it wouldn't be fair for me to just make you cum your soul, right out of those ripe, swollen balls. Not if you really don't want me to.”\n\nAlexia breathed a sigh of relief, even as he felt the straining of his urethra, right on the cusp. The faintest touch would have made him cum fire a cannon, if it wasn't for the demon's conditioning holding him back. He was about to give his thanks, to bargain, till...\n\n'[i]Snap[/i]'.\n\nHowling, he went off like a rocket. Hips jerking, balls clenching, dick rearing. The bound Boyar stained his belly and briefs in a tide of musky, sticky white. An uneven volley of wet shots, and with each one he moaned, sure he was about to fall into damnation, as the relief rushing through his body was beyond heavenly. It left him weeping, gasping, exhausted in the aftershock, unable to think of much save what the repercussions would be for his failure to resist.\n\n“Oh, you didn't think it would be that quick did you?” Laughing, dragging a claw through his now musky belly fur, Eliza gloated at his distress. “Oh no, you need to want it, to ask for the gift. So, I'll make you a promise. If you can resist begging me to let you finish by dawn, then I'll let you go, I'll never bother you again. Why, I might even let you drag me to the church to repent, if you think I've been a particularly bad girl, Sir. But if you fail, I'll be more than happy to make you cum your '[i]Souls[/i]' out, all, night, long~.”\n\nThe sight of the demoness, with her claw in her mouth, sucking it clean of his own seed, was almost enough to make the poor Boyar hard again, and send him to damnation on the spot. But with his heart in his throat, he nodded, knowing he could endure anything for the few hours he had left before sunrise. He had avoided temptation for decades, been a good and Christian man since his daughter had come into his life. For that, and for her, he could hold onto his soul no matter what the fiend might do.\n\nGrinning broader than any cat, the succubus dismounted the bed, and circled towards the door. Tracking her in trepidation, Alexei's eyes again caught on the figure in the corner, watching the play go on, unblinkingly. The demonic maid’s claws clacked on the handle, as she opened the way wide, and he finally realised what it was she had said.\n\n“He's ready for you now, [i]Cher Ami[/i]. Come come, let him have a look at you.”\n\nHorror greater than any other took him then, as the figure behind the door stepped into the dim beam of light. He groaned and begged 'No, not her.' But it was. In her fine French dress, the bustle and skirts left behind, revealing long, golden legs, generous hips, into the tight wasp waist of her corset. The strings were cross tied, and half laced, leaving her bounty barely contained, and yearning for freedom. The blue dye of the silk was near black in the shadow, making her blonde curls stand out in stark relief, as her rough rose up into an elegant neck. Her head was down, her hands clasped before her, a picture of demure femininity, but her eyes were glassy, distant, those of a blind woman.\n\nLilita stepped inside the accursed chamber, shy and bashful, bobbing to where he lay on the bed as if he were not her father, nor that he was coated in his own semen.\n\n“Thank you for indulging my selfishness, Sir. I know this is not appropriate, and yet I find I cannot help myself. I'll be in your care tonight.” She curtsied again, chest noticeably bobbing and heaving as her sensitive nose drew in the musky aroma of her own father's seed. And still she did not react as if anything were the matter.\n\n“Do you like her, Sir?” The playwright of the performance crooned, taking the hand of her friend to guided her to the bed. “I've been working on her even longer than I have yourself. You would not believe the depths of repressed passion, and lust, within your daughter's heart.”\n\n“Lilita! Snap out of this! Cannot you not see this devil has bewitched us?!” Alexei barked, straining as the roped dug painfully into his wrists. But the young woman did not react.\n\nLeading her like a Judas-goat, Eliza set the young woman at the foot of the bed, reclining herself at her former employer's side. “She hears and sees what I wish her to. She won't be free of the illusion, not until I snap my claws again. Now, let's see how long you can last, when it's your own flesh and blood trying to please you. Go on, [i]Cher Ami[/i], you can touch him. I won't mind.”\n\nShivering in barely contained lust, the Borzoi maiden reached out with a tentative claw, her fingers trailing up the bound man's thighs, till settling on his drawers. “It's... alright, isn't it Lizi? You are sure you don't mind... sharing him with me like this?”\n\n“I'm sure, Lili,” the treacherous maid said in the tones of a loving teacher, and act betrayed by the flick of her tongue around her lips. “Go on, he's ready for you. Get your first feel of a real man.”\n\nDeaf to his pleas, Lilita did just that, her delicate pads daring to venture up, and caress his soaking tip. He was softening up, but a quick command of “[b]Десять[/b],” had his protesting penis juddering back to fullness. So much so that the young woman squeaked and flinched, but a nod from her mentor had the girl's palm wrap about the very girth that had helped bring her into the world.\n\n“He's so damp,” she said in a reverent whisper.\n\n“He's just excited to meet you. Go on, don't be afraid. [b]Девять[/b].”\n\nHe jolted again, gaining his full, natural, thickness, even as his mind revolted with the knowledge that it was his own daughter exploring his shame.\n\nLilita trailed her tips up and down for a moment more, squeezing gently on the grey and red flesh, her ensorcelled eyes never moving from her fixation. Again the demon spoke, and harder still he became in her grasp. Again and again, till he felt as if he would rupture in his daughter’s paw.\n\n“He looks more than warmed up now. Why don't you help him get more, comfortable, Lili?” Eliza purred, and with her smile the young maiden lost all control of herself.\n\nTongue lolling, breath huffing, Lilita fell face first into the musky wetness of her father's soiled undergarments. The borzoi woman took a heavy drag of his scent, nose digging into where his balls met his sheath, and proceeding to climb from there.\n\n“He smells, incredible,” she muttered, tongue touching and tasting his shame, “almost like-”\n\n“[b]Take off his pants[/b],” Eliza interrupted, and the faraway look in Lilita's eyes grew even stronger.\n\nEncouraged, the young woman opened her muzzle, and closer her teeth about the sodden cloth. She tugged and worried at it, working it by fractions down his legs, to tangle about his knees, leaving his monstrously hard rod standing proud and erect. A dribble of precum ran down its side, the whole edifice a sticky testament to his previously dormant virility.\n\n“Oh my, Lili, I didn’t say you had to use your mouth. Though that definitely made him happy. Isn't that nice, Sir? To have your daughter so eager to taste your cock? Such a dutiful, thoughtful woman she's grown up to be. Aren't you glad you brought us together?”\n\nHe would have objected, if not at that moment the panting lustful woman, dragged herself up his body. Her corset finally lost the battle with her burgeoning breasts, releasing her golden ruff and the globes inside to dangle before his eyes as she straddled his thighs. Between her own he could see she had forgone small clothes, a wet and quivering pair of pink lips glistening with pearls of anticipation, then she began to grind them back and forth across his sac.\n\n“Forgive me, Sir. But I just... you are just…” Her fingers wrapped feverishly about his shaft, heat and need radiating from her skin, as she inexpertly began to drag her womanhood up and down his full girth. “It's here, isn't it? I just have to... no, no, that's not right, maybe...?”\n\nAlexei thought his doom forestalled, as his inexperienced daughter fumbled with aligning his drooling tip with her watering depths. Unfortunately, a second set of hands intervened.\n\n“Here, let me handle that, just raise your hips a little Lili,” Eliza chimed, and like the good puppet she was, Lilita complied. A single claw tipped the fat, tapered head of Alexei's shaft into the furrow of her sex, where it sank in by a centimetre, and then another. “There, that's the spot. Now, let gravity do the rest~.”\n\nA moan, a sigh, an almost relieved gasp, escaped her muzzle, as her weight alone was enough to take him the rest of the way. Her tunnel was tight and tense, unused to intrusion, but unable to resist the hypnotised manhood of her own father. There was a brief pause in which she hiccuped, holding herself still as a prickle of pain run up her spine and shivered her tail. Before a pair of taloned hands took her hips, and eased her passage out of virginity. Down she went, deeper and deeper, till with a final gasp, she was seated in the lap of the man who raised her, his knot beating against her outer folds, his balls throbbing against her buttocks.\n\n“Ah-aha~. So-so that's how it fits,” she muttered, her tongue lolling as the sensation of being utterly filled took over her senses. Some deep part of her, deeper than his cock was currently knocking, was dimly aware of the significance of the man she was riding. But any chance for reflection was robbed from her, as a snake-like tongue whispered in her ear, and her hips were pulled up, and pushed down again.\n\n“Go on, Lili. He's all yours, for tonight. Enjoy this precious moment. It can only happen once~.”\n\nThat was all the bewitched bitch needed. Mechanically at first, she raised her tail end, wincing as the dog's dick dragged through her torn hymen, before falling with a wet slap of unleashed arousal. Then again, and again, till her own desires took hold of her, and she was bouncing, panting, fucking her '[i]Papa[/i]' with wet, meaty '[i]Plaps[/i]'.\n\n“Lilita. Daughter. You have to, stop. I'm your father!” Whined Alexei, straining against the bonds, the pain helping to ignore the incredible sensation of a virginal cunt sawing up and down his impossibly hard length.\n\n“Oh Sir, you shouldn't say such things,” Lilita shivered, fur on end as she rode all the harder atop him. “Making me think of. Ahh~, my own, father, oh God~. Making me imagine that, my Papa was...”\n\nShe broke off in another yelp, of pleasure this time, clitoris grinding hard on his ensorcelled knot as she bit her lips and rolled her unseeing eyes in a small orgasm. Her inner walls clamped and rippled, strangling the man inside in fluttering contractions that made him yelp as well. He would have cum, despite his own wishes, but the demon's hold on his seed was too strong, and all that happened was a dry ejaculation which brought no relief.\n\n“This is incredible,” the young woman panted, catching herself as she fell, propped up so her full and bountiful breasts wrapped about the tip of his snout, smothering him in familial fluff. “I think I'm in love with this, with you. Oh if only you weren't with Lizi. It's as if you're made for me.”\n\nCackling, Eliza ran a claw up the Boyar's chest, teasing a nipple before cupping his chin, keeping his eyes buried deep in his daughter's tits. “Isn't he just? Almost as if you were cut from the same cloth. Oh, but don't forget to pull off when he's close. You wouldn't want any, accidents, would you [i]Cher Ami[/i]~.”\n\nHe himself was in a hell of his own breeding, his own lusts having been manipulated and forced to bear fruit. His hips were already bruising from the way his daughter's pelvis slammed into his, and the scent of thick, female fertility, played around his nostrils. The notion made his mind shrink in horror, even as wild imaginings twisted in his gut to make him throb again in anticipation.\n\n“Oh Sir, it's happening again. Please... please make this special for me. Call me... call me daughter more, let me call you... call you Papa!” Her voice was like a whip, lashing his soul, his body already reacting to the forbidden taboo.\n\n“No! No, I can't, I can't!” he cried, but his cock only pulsed the harder, the demonic influence of Eliza's magic stoking the fires of his libido till his knot was visibly pulsating. The pleasure was beyond belief, as was the need to finish, to let out the mounting pressure in his penis, and finally be free of the need to fill the female making terrible love to him.\n\n“Papa~! Oh yes, I can feel you throbbing, oh yes, Papa. Ahhn! Unf~!”\n\nAnother crushing squeeze from his daughter's sex, another dry eruption from his strangled cock. His heart could barely contain it, he thought it would burst before his balls with the strain he was under. And still Lilita did not stop. It took just a suggestion from the waiting demoness, and she was moving again, clearly dishevelled and exhausted, but not caring, or not feeling, with the deep spell she was under.\n\n“She's dreamed of this, you know,” Eliza whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek as he whimpered in desperation. “What a shock it was, hearing her inner most confession, coaxing out her most hidden secrets. She thought she'd put it well behind her, but your oh so proper daughter, has always looked at you as more than just a father. She was so ashamed of herself, but now look at her. She's free to be who she wants to be. Don't you wish you could be the same? To be free to just admit what you want, and blow your big, beautiful load, deep inside that perfect, tight, cunt?”\n\nHe was about to break. His body, his mind, his soul, all were on the brink, and his mouth could not even form words anymore. Just a low, keening, wail of want. How long had they been at it? Mating, rutting across the marital bed? The same one Lilita was conceived in? Had it been hours, or just minutes? Time seemed meaningless, as if he was trapped in the moment of death, between hell and heaven, the devil and her angel of lust, each conspiring to damn him for all eternity.\n\n“He's close,” said demon chuckled, “not much more and you'll make him ever so happy. Why not tell him what you want, that will surely make him, [i]pop[/i]~.”\n\n“Yes, yes, oh, Sir!” Lilita was drooling now, the constant humping of her clit on his swollen knot causing her to lose her mind. With all they'd done, her labia were loosening, enough that even his fully engorged glans was sinking a little deeper on each hard downswing. “I know... I know I shouldn't but... but I want you to finish. I want you to do it inside me. Please, Sir. Fill me up. Make a mother of me, Papa!”\n\nAlexei broke then. His will, his resistance, it all crumbled before his daughter's desperate plea, to be bred by the same cock that had given her life. He needed to cum, he needed relief, and he needed to make his daughter happy. That was the only thought that remained as his eyes met the devil's, and his mouth formed the words that spelled his doom.\n\n“Eliza... I... I... I can't... I need to cum... Please, let me cum...”\n\n“Oooh, very good. You’ll feel so much better soon,” Eliza grinned, and he saw her claws raise for the snap of her fingers. Lilita rose again, Alexei held his breath, the fingers paused before his eyes. And then his daughter slapped down, and took his entire knot.\n\n'[i]Snap[/i]!'.\n\nThe squeeze of his daughter's vestibule about his turgid bulb was the last sensation he felt, before the boiling tide smashed free of his balls. Visibly crawling up his tract, it was as painful as it was blissful to be free of it. Damn the consequences, damn the damnation, they were nothing compared to the exultation of that one expulsion of pent up semen. He didn't think, didn't try to rationalise. His mind was only on the wet, tight, quim of his daughter, and how he wanted to fill it to the brim with his seed.\n\nJust as it freed his semen from its cage, the veil was lifted from Lilita's eyes. Shocked at the inundation of his climax, she saw clearly her father beneath her, howling his lust into her body, as she lost control and did likewise. A hot, throbbing, wetness, painted her again and again. She had flashes of thought, of the price she might pay, of the wrongness of what she'd done. But none of it mattered anymore! “Papa,” she screamed, and “Lilita,” he shouted back!\n\n[i]'Snap', 'Snap', 'Snap', 'Snap'.[/i]\n\nEliza clicked again and again, making sure Alexei's ejaculation would never end. The white tide thinned, but the pleasure didn't. A purplish glow suffused their loins, a sweet and musky aroma clouded the air, an infernal buzzing filled the ears.\n\nThe escaping splashes from the lover's union went from pearly seed, to flecked with pink, till a thick ooze of congealed, expelled, purity, seeped out and around their coupling. An unnatural light filled the woman's womb, as her own father's soul, turned to nothing more than sexual energy, suffused her flesh, and transformed it to a new, lustful form.\n\nGroaning and orgasming still, the borzoi bitch's body bulged more obscenely, fat and tissue growing in her rump, her hips, her breast, remodelling her externally, and internally. As her gut began to expand with all it was taking, her womb transformed into a second stomach, a sack to hold and digest her new diet, while further down other changes took root to better fit her purpose. With her next climax, she flung her hips forward, and in the motion, her clit surged out into a perfect mate for the cock deep inside her quim. The newly made phallus was more purple, mottled, and obscene in every facet, and it was just as aroused as the rest of her. When she came again, so did it, painting her father's chest in her own molten soul-stuff, lashing him with thick pink strings, which bubbled and hissed as they were absorbed into his fur.\n\nAlexei drank in his daughter's lost innocence, wearing it forever as his coat curled and changed. Thick swirls of purple sprouted against his abdomen and chest, immortalising his daughter's first masculine ejaculation. Below, from what leaked from her lips, his balls bathed in her potent need, and doubled in size to meet them. Thick veins bulged within his sack, as the goose-eggs they now wrapped about became unceasing seed factories, churning fresh fluids from nothing to fill and bloat his daughter's gut. Below even that, his small star between his glutes formed into a puffy ring, as inviting as a female orifice, and just as moist.\n\nNeither needed the snapping of Eliza's fingers any longer. Driven by unleashed desire, unrestrained by such petty things as morality and decency, the newborn incubus pulled, and broke the restraints on his arms, grabbing the fresh succubus on his lap, and wrapping her in a less than fatherly embrace.\n\nLeaving them to the rush of their first sex as infernal spawn, the fallen dragoness slipped off the covers, turned to face the room, and bowed to the sound of slow applause from her loving audience.\n\n“Did I please you, Father?”\n\nThe thing in the chair stood, clapping still, and stepped into the pre-dawn light.\n\nFather Bekski smiled dotingly on his '[i]Child[/i]', the corrupted priest visibly aroused by the show she had made for him. As the familial demons fucked themselves to exhaustion for his entertainment, he rewarded his ever diligent convert with a claw under the chin, and a long-tongued kiss, that travelled down her throat.\n\n“Very good, my Child,” he curled the words out in infernal smoke, the senior demon of their pack favouring his first re-born with a playful grope, before pressing her down to her knees in front of his arousal. While Eliza saw to her 'Patriarch', he played with the thing in his claws, turning the somewhat stained envelope over and over as he listened to the sounds of slapping and sucking. “Make sure you clean them both up when they're done,” he mused, patting Eliza on the horns, “we want everything to be perfect for when Prince Dolokhov arrives.”\n\nThe dawn came, but there was not a soul in the palace to see it.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "It was a cold start to Alexei's day. A chill had come upon them, following along the Urals to promise a traditional frozen winter in a few months. Alexei didn't mind it though, in fact he was glad of it, as it drove him from his bed, and forced a little wakefulness into his tiring bones.

The grey dog shuffled his thicker winter jacket around his shoulders, pulling the side breast tight with a corded sash. He'd never felt old in his bones before, and in truth he wasn't, though perhaps it would have been impolite of him to ride in the cavalry any longer, such chances for glory belonged to younger men. However, the last week of restless dreams had left him drained, creaking, and his mind wandering in a fashion that made him remember his father at the end of his life.

Such thoughts followed him down to the morning meal, the humble palace quiet for its size. Times were hard in the outer provinces, and even a Boyar had need to tighten his purse strings, leaving his house with but the barest few loyal retainers while he awaited his fortune's return. So stepping through the painted doors of fashions past, he found his table host to only two fine young women, who each rose and bobbed to him.

“Good morning Papa.”

“Good morning Sir.”

Smiling, the pale grey borzoi gave a bow as if greeting the most noble beauties of St. Petersburg, which he then compared them too as he creaked into his chair, and waved them both to stop being silly and resume their meal.

He beamed proudly at the prettier of the pair, at least to his eye, for what father would he be if his daughter was not the most beautiful creature in his life. Lilita was pure Borzoi, like himself, and she had flowered well into womanhood, now entering her third decade. The bodice of her blue French dress, a gift she had begged from him, and he had only ever pretended to begrudge the expense, now strained to contain the fullness of her body. The faint cream curls in her coat, so much like her mother, spilled out about the breast, puffing her bosom with overabundance. Just as the pinched waist did the same to her hips, tail, and pert bottom. So much like her mother, he looked on dreamily, remembering wild nights of passion, of holding and stroking and-

“Tea, Sir?”

He chocked back such indecent memories, brought to his senses as his daughter's companion, the family maid, poured for him. Sheepishly, he took it, and used it as an excuse to transfer his gaze from his darling Lilita, to the odd one out of their company.

Eliza was distinct amongst his staff, and had certainly raised a stir when fortunes had been better, and they'd lived in their town house in the capital. With dark purple scales, teal membranous wings, and prehensile tail the length of her body, the draconic maiden's family had likely come through Turkey, perhaps as far away as Arabia. A foundling, he'd taken her on shortly after Lilita's mother had passed, not just to aid in the womanly tasks of the household, but to be companion and friend to his then grieving daughter.

In fact, while never so much as to be indecent, Alexei had often been remarked to have two daughters, for he did tend to favour the scaled woman a little more than other nobility would their own servants. His paternal affections for the maid went so far that, just as he had tried to arrange a suitor for his beloved Lilita, he had taken to ensuring that Eliza was present at any gatherings containing young men of suitable station. He’d even hinted at have been willing to provide a modest dowry should any gallant wish to have her.

And just as with his own flesh, he couldn't stop his wandering eye from lingering on the distinct curves that came with her kind.

“Will you be needing me at all today, Sir?” She asked sweetly, a slight purr caused by the rasp of a reptilian throat.

Doing his best to be true to himself, Alexei assured her that she did enough already, and he would be out seeing to the state of the smaller settlements, and wouldn't subject either of the pair of them to such a dull chore, and long ride.

“In which case I will take my leave to help tend Father Bekski. I'll be back this afternoon.”

With that, Eliza bobbed a curtsy, shared a smile with Lilita, and swayed her plump tail out of the room.

“That girl shouldn't be wasting her time having to dote on old men,” Alexei sighed, sipping the sweet, herbal tisane, “she should be thinking more of her future. If only the Patriarch hadn't saddled Father Bekski with that handful of a Sister, then our Eliza could put her efforts into younger men.“

Lilita tittered, covering her mouth to hide her smile.

“Oh, clearly your father has said something foolish, to make you laugh at him so,” Alexei said, feeling peevish as his daughter smirked and giggled.

“No, no, nothing at all, Papa,” the young woman countered, hiding her mirth poorly. “I just feel that Eliza doesn't need much help in finding herself male attention.”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Alexei finished his cup, feeling warm and flustered, before quitting the table himself. Later climbing into his carriage, his driver noted a certain agitation, and lack of focus in his master's eyes.

“Nothing enough to stop me, Boris. But I will be glad of my bed come our return, now let's be off.”

***

“десять.”

He tossed and turned, the soft touch of silk across his body not sheets, but the caress of ethereal fingers. A nail running through his fur, from behind the ear, down his neck, circling his Adam's apple. The faint scratch, the drag, the coolness of the prickle, the heat of the trail.

“девять.”

He could feel her. Her breath rolling against his ears, huffing and purring, smelling of spice, and need. Her body was on him, dragging against his arm, his shoulder, while her fingers ran spirals through his pelt. Firm flesh, pressing against his own, sending warmth through his skin, radiating contentment and joy, likewise making other parts ache with longing.

“восемь.”

He felt weightless, suspended, the world becoming water, and his body buoyed on strange tides. The touch had gone lower, leaving runnels through his coat, as it dragged and spiralled down his belly, catching on his flat, male, teats, prompting them to stand tall in the cool air, and be plucked one by one. He gasped, or tried to, his lungs reluctant to inflate in his slumber, leaving him on that cusp of waking, yet always denied.

“Семь.”

Oh god, how he wished she ended there to let him sleep. And simultaneously how he begged the dream to go on, for that touch to travel south, to wrap about his sheath, to tug and roll and stimulate his dormant flesh. He felt lips kissing at his neck, a tongue lap and curl his fur, and stubbornly those fingers stayed, arrested at his navel, letting his tired mind do all the work as he envisioned a body of golden fur, of plump breast, of familiar scent.

“Шесть.”

A growl broke his muzzle, lips fluttering in wheezing breath, as at last the woman, her features swimming, her aroma so appealing, drifted down. He was floating atop a roiling sea, motion rocking him, or he rocking it in waves, as now his hips rolled in needy anticipation. He hungered for what would come next, how firm claw would be replaced with moist lips, how lusts sunken in the deep recesses of his psyche would bubble up and resurface.

“Пять.”

Rolling wet, a tongue lapped up from below his sheath, going from sac to apex, and in doing so making his own damp flesh come forth and cool in the air. He couldn't see, but he knew, he could imagine clearly in his mind. Soft golden fur, a long and playful muzzle, eyes that seemed almost devilish in their teasing of him, just as her tongue seemed to be a tool of infernal temptation. Feelings echoed back over years stirred new passions, as his grey and veined member pulsed and grew, dribbling his own dampness into his belly.

“Четыре.”

She would be gorgeous, he knew, the owner of that maw. The mouth that dragged down his spire again, and worried playfully at his pouch. He whimpered and bucked, as on her next ascent, her lips pursed, and wrapped around the head. Oh how he would have screamed her name, how he had missed having it on his own lips, but all he could do was float above that bottomless abyss, and feel as his member sank into oblivion before him.

“Три.”

Humid warmth surrounded him, adding erotic slurps to the soundscape of his imaginings. Flesh sliding within a velvet glove, her maw sealed tight, her tongue lashing. It was exquisite. Every moment sent his heart racing, made his brain dance, as the pleasure mounted higher and higher. He was moaning, grunting, his face screwed up and lost in his delirium. He wanted more, longed for relief, for release from the beautiful nightmare in the most primal fashion of his repressed male urges. That perfect mouth, and the throat beyond, rose and fell, just as his hips did the same, dragging more earthly pleasure from his nightly fantasies.

“Два.”

His fingers clawed the air, seeking the silken ears, the warm curls, the face of his love, so he might force her down all the harder! So he might thrust and buck as a young dog, to take his intended as carnally and ferociously as he could only do in dreams. He grasped nothing, of course, but in that dream he held her by the nape, stroked features he knew by heart, and pounded home with unrelenting need. She fought briefly in play, before submitting to his rampant lust, and taking him to her hilt. Tight constricting bands of muscle closed on turgid cock, as hungry as his loins, as perfect as his fantasies. Till in a torturous slurp, her touch lifted, his grip as elusive as smoke.

“Один.”

'No, come back!' He cried out in his dream, on the cusp of completion, knot full and proud, balls throbbing and twisting. The ghostly lover laughed, silent, but her touch was still real, leaning over him now, breasts crushing into his chest, her nipples driving hard into his skin, her weight pressing the air out of his lungs. Wetness wrapped around him again, slicking back and forth, up and down, tantalising him with images of her feminine sex, ready and eager for him, burning in heat and need, just as he was full of lust. Her breath was in his neck, teeth at his throat, scent deep in his nose. He wanted her, needed her, had to have her. He felt lips part, a kiss beneath his ear, a tongue tracing the cartilage, before she spoke in a breathy whisper; “Papa.”

'Snap!'

He was undone, the woman in his arms was undeniably not his wife, not his lost love. His dream of Lilita cooed into his fur, as his cock spurted across his pelt, as it painted her familial flesh, as it sullied her grey and cream coat in the seed of her father and condemned them both to-

***

A sharp knocking at the door jolted Alexei firmly out of lustful dreams, and into panicked wakefulness. The sun was truly up, light splitting the gap between the curtains, sounds of life echoing about the house, and a distinctive dampness was covering his crotch.

“Sir,” Eliza called from beyond the door, “Breakfast has already been cleared, so I brought yours up with me. I'll just put it on the table while I make your bed and tidy for you.”

Frantically, the ashamed Boyar cast his eyes about the room as he heard the handle turning. Eliza, so used to being free in his company, had no hesitation in entering her employer's bed chamber. He could not bare to think of the girl he'd raised, practically as a daughter, seeing him in nothing but a soiled nightshirt. In fevered desperation, he spotted his only chance to save his dignity.

When the dull scaled dragon maid entered the room, she found it seemingly empty, till a rustle drew her eyes to the old privacy screen that had gone unused the entire time she'd served her master, having belonged to his wife, and being abandoned in the palace ever since her death.

“Oh, I didn't know you were still changing Sir,” the dutiful maid chimed, “I'll just place the tray on your desk, and start on the cleaning. Do you need any assistance dressing?”

“No!” He coughed, having failed to hide his startled bark, “no, that's fine, thank you Eliza. I'm not an old man who needs help with his trousers.”

Behind the painted wooden screen, Alexei was already naked, desperate to be free of the ruined cloth, and praying that the young woman's nose wasn't as sharp as his own. Both his drawers and his nightshirt stank of his nighttime expulsion, a greasy stain visible and still tacky to the touch. His midriff and thighs were not much better, but until the ever dutiful dragon left, he would have no chance of reaching the basin to remove the evidence.

“Of course not Sir. Oh, it is a little stuffy isn't it, should I open the window to let in some fresh air?”

Gritting his teeth, he did his best not to snap at her and tell her to just leave him to his embarrassment. But that would just draw greater scrutiny, and he did not wish to upset Eliza for simply being good at her job.

“Yes, yes that would be fine. You don't need to make a fuss of me, I'm sure you have other things to see to,” he gave a quiet plea, huddling against his cover to give as little chance she might catch him cowering like a young pup afraid of a bath.

“Oh no Sir, most of the work has already been done. When I'm finished here, I'll likely just go into town to see to Father Bekski again, and run a few errands. I'll be back in time to help with supper, and anything else should you need.”

She'd begun humming, as she worked, bustling about the room while he waited with bated breath for his chance to slip out without her notice. If only he'd had a chance to grab his clothes from where they'd been left for him, at least then he could hide his shame, but they sat folded at the bedside, neglected in his haste, where of course she spotted them.

“Oh, are you wearing something different today Sir? Should I put these away for you?”

Her voice came from just behind his ear, parted by just a few centimetres of board, her claws clacking on the wooden floor as he saw her shadow approach the screen. He could smell her subtle perfume, hear her breath, imagine the warmth of her body, as she was so close to discovering his nakedness.

“That's fine! Just leave them there, I, um, fancied a change, what with the weather we're having.” He lied, blushing bright beneath his whiskers, now acutely aware of the rise the situation was getting out of him. His paws were no longer obscuring just a messy sheath, but the wet tip of the member that had gotten him into such a situation. “Anyway, perhaps later I should accompany you, to see the holy Father. See how he's doing for myself.”

Internally he muttered 'And see if he can offer some spiritual guidance, or absolution, for all this.'

There was a brief pause from the other side of the partition, and for a heart stopping moment the naked man feared she'd spotted, or smelled, something about his predicament.

“Oh... I wouldn't trouble yourself much, Sir.” Eliza continued, walking away before the rustling of fabric said she was back to making his bed. “Father Bekski's condition is quite severe, he needs much tending at the current time. Why, did you have need of him, Sir?”

“No, nothing, nothing much at all. Just, much on my mind, the business between men, been a little troubled is all.” Alexei rambled, desperate for Eliza to finish and be on her way.

“Well I'm sure some herbal tea and good sleep will see to it. I'll make sure to prepare some for you this evening.” She chirped, and the sound of her sweeping back towards the door was like music to his ears. “Anyway, the room is done, so I shall take my leave, enjoy your breakfast, Sir.”

He didn't let out his breath until he heard the door latch.

***

Later; washed, dressed, and only half as humiliated as he had felt that morning, Alexei was buried in his books. The tedious, but necessary, drudgery of accounting seemed a certain cure for his lustful thoughts.

The last of summer's tally had come in, as had the petitions from his serfs, and on top of that he had received a letter from Prince Dolokhov, informing him he'd be expected to host him and several connected friends from Moscow for a hunting trip in the coming weeks. That would require funds he had not set aside, and thus a great deal of re-balancing needed to occur, if not outright borrowing.

All while his sleep addled mind was doing its utmost to distract him. His eyes wandered over the figures, the neat lines, and attempted to contort them into the shapes of breasts, hips, thighs, and other softnesses.

More than once, he found his fingers drifting to the decanter at his side, along with a neglected luncheon, the amber brandy looking ever more tempting a distraction.

Pushing away such notions, as he was a proper man and not a drunkard, he instead chose to soothe his head with fresh air. Opening the window, the cold breeze did indeed refresh him, and a deep inhale did wonders to clear the visions that danced just behind his eyelids.

When Alexei opened his eyes again, looking out along the path towards the settlement, they were drawn to a vivid splash of colour, as two figures in bright dresses walked arm in arm. Lilita and Eliza were unmistakable, the young pair having clearly met on the maid's return, and were taking a stroll in the early afternoon together.

He was at once transfixed, at first just content to watch and smile paternally, then soon being hypnotised by the swaying motion of hips, the rise of fall of the Eliza's skirts, and the full and suggestive swell of Lilita's bustle. The middle-aged male gulped, wide-eyed, as the seductive roundness of his daughter's dress forced him to note what else was smooth, and curved, and rounded about her.

'Damned corsets, what devil possessed me to buy it for her?' He bit his lip, tracking every step the good friends took. 'I should order her not to wear it so much, lest she make herself ill. But then, that would make me look like a stupid old fool. Better to let her have it and simply ignore- oh, oh Lord...'

The pair had stopped, Lilita turning to laugh and smile, and Alexei felt his loins burn hot as the busts of both young women, visible in profile, jostled and jumped, while they playfully slapped at each other like siblings. He could see the fabric straining to contain them each, and could easily picture such lush beauties in his palms, as he-

Tearing himself away, an overspill of brandy stained Prince Dolokhov's letter, as Boyar Alexei drowned out his evils in drink.

***

It was dark now, Alexei believed his crusted eyes were still shut, before realising he was staring into unlit night. Just the subtle light from the small study window let the groaning man drag his surroundings back into focus. He'd fallen asleep, passed out at his desk, the same numbers that had failed him now mocking him in smudged ink, that and the ache in his head, and a devil of a thirst.

He needed a drink, and not another glass of spirits.

Stumbling, he found his feet and staggered from his office into the gloomy hall. With how quiet it was, he knew the hour must must be late, the rest of the palace having retired to their homes or their beds. Which suited him better, given it would mean none would see his dishevelled, disgraceful, state.

Navigating by memory, Alexei tripped his way about his own home, head pounding, each footfall intolerably loud. He was headed for the kitchen, intent on wetting his throat, and perhaps sating the gnawing hunger from missed meals. So he was almost pleasantly surprised to see light coming from under the sturdy door, no doubt the cook making preparations for tomorrow, perhaps willing to indulge their master with a late meal.

Indeed, something smelled good, as he placed a paw upon the handle. Sweet and spiced, with an underlying earthiness. It was as foreign as it was intriguing, and the growling stomach of the Boyar led him to open the way with an excited grin. A grin which faded, and was lost in horror as soon as his eyes made sense of what he saw.

Lit by just the dull light of a single candle, and what little escaped from the coals of the oven, the room was warm, musky, like the lair of a beast, or the inside of a belly, with the low, curved, arch of the walls and ceiling. The aroma was stronger, cloyingly saccharine, and more noticeably animal, adding to the air of foreboding. But nothing impressed upon him the feeling of having stepped into hell, as much as the lone figure within.

Cast almost entirely in shadow, visible more as an impression of black within the dull interior, the horned thing crooned and hummed, a wicked, lashing tail, swaying to-and-fro, as they laboured before a small cauldron. Spines adorned them, from the horns on their head, to full protrusions on their front, as the thing bore a perversity of the female silhouette. Beneath a jutting muzzle, a long and slender neck grew into a gross swell of a bosom, pendulous and heavy, it visibly sloshed as the thing toiled and worked them, for a clawed hand could be seen gripping and tugging a monstrous spike of a nipple, which squirted freely into the pot with the sound of sizzling rain.

Their digits worked as a dancing shadow, and the horrified man could only follow, as when one phallic teat was drained, the figure worked down, over a somewhat bulging gut, to between a thick pair of thighs. Another jutting 'udder' rose proud there, which when tweaked dripped a thick and gluey residue. This too was caught, captured on a talon, and dropped into the bubbling brew.

The figure huffed, hissed, and moaned, as they stirred the concoction, the sounds of their pleasure mixing with their singing, just as their fluids did with their potion.

“Witch,” Alexei choked out, aghast at the infernal spectre, and at once realised his mistake, when two shining eyes swung and almost physically sent him reeling back from the door.

The suddenly sober Boyar stumbled, turned tail, and fled, feet scrabbling at the stone tiles, as dread unlike any he'd experienced in battle took hold of his heart, and thrust his tail firmly between his legs.

Witchcraft. In his house, beneath his own roof. And with the state he was in, he had no choice but to flee, to take his family and escape the creature's accursed influence, and seek sanctuary at the church. He could only pray his daughter and Eliza were not yet tainted by the vile magic, as clearly that was what had been bewitching his thoughts the past week.

Running as if the hounds of hell were at his heels, Alexei threw himself down the halls, bashing off the corners, scrabbling at the walls, as the whole palace took on a sinister air, the shadows seeming to reach for him, the flickering lamps casting dancing demons across every surface. He nearly tripped, his own feet feeling leaden, and his breath ragged, as the pain in his head grew to a splitting migraine. Through his swimming vision, the father and master of the house spied the door to his daughter's chambers, and dragged himself against the stout wood, his fevered fingers flailed at the handle.

He was about to speak her name, to command her to dress and come at once, but a moan from inside sent a chill up his already frozen spine. It was not a moan of pain, but of the intimate pleasures of a woman.

Fear not forgotten, but held at bay by the dreadful plummeting of his heart, Alexei's hand finally closed about the handle. The door opened, as did his mouth, and as were his daughter's thighs.

Spread out upon the bed, her legs bent at the knees, in nothing but her golden fur, Lilita lay deep in her personal pleasure. One hand, fingers curled to a cupping palm, was wrapped around her exposed breast, while the other was nestled between her thighs. Her moans came in time with each pump she made, a wet slick visible on every digit as her wrist rocked back and forth, her paw pads stroking at the pink nub of her clitoris. Her body was tense, her toes curling, as she rolled her hips, the creamy fur of her inner thighs showing dark from the moisture of her arousal.

It made the horrified father harder than he had any memory of being his whole life. He could barely look away, the sight of his naked, beautiful daughter, burning into his retinas, but with an effort of will, he wrenched his eyes aside, turning about, intent perhaps on going for his own room, to retrieve his sabre, and defend her door. But when he wheeled around, it was to find himself face to face with the other woman he had sought to find instead.

Alexei was about to bluster his way into an apology, an excuse, and a hurried explanation for his behaviour, but was forestalled as Eliza, grinning like the devil himself, grabbed the hem of her skirts, and pulled them up to her breast.

Unable to stop himself from looking, the man had but seconds to gasp, as at the maid's naked crotch was a swollen, bulging, erection. The pseudo-penis, moulded from her clitoris, small and rubbery, jolted before his eyes before it spat a thick string of white across them. The scent blinded him as much as the clinging ejaculate, turning the world to black.

***

“Шесть.”

Like burning ice, a tingle ran up the Boyar's unsheathed cock. Teasing, it had already succeeded in drawing his whole grey-pink length out of hiding, so as to let that touch go from the veiny base, to the twitching tip. Then, there was a pause, a torturous, cruel, moment of stillness, before it traced its path again, up and down, up and down, over and over. It was like the devil's tongue, and the poor man could do nothing but moan, and plead for more, as his hips juddered, his member bounced, but his legs unable to kick or thrash.

Slowly, as the sensation grew, so did consciousness. Boyar Alexei, biting his tongue to contain his whimper from the weakness of his flesh, found his eyes focusing on the ceiling of his own bedroom, before falling. The touch was feather-light, as it was in fact a feather, plucked from a duster, the long grey quill pinched in the grip of the one who he had given it to.

Sitting at his side, the garnet eyes of Eliza looked down on him, a smirk of the most devilish glee twisting her features.

“Eliza…” he groaned, and when he went to grab her hand to stop her erogenous act, he realised he was bound, spread-eagled atop his sheets. Not quite naked, he'd been allowed to keep his drawers, however the taunting of the woman's tool had caused his cock to bulge beyond their confinement, adding to his discomfort. “What are you doing?!”

“Oh Sir,” the reptilian woman leered, flashing teeth that seemed a little long for her dainty maw. “I'm just helping you with your needs~.” Her breathy, raspy, purr of a voice made him shiver, or perhaps that was the feather, fluttering around his urethra.

“Пять,” she spoke again, and a fresh pulse of heated blood ran down his spine, up through his shaft, to make it bulge even more grossly.

“He-help me with- Stop that!” he protested, chewing his cheek to stop from making a more obscene sound. “H-how is this... helping me!? What's gotten into you, girl?!”

“Четыре.” She did not relent, only smiled even more wickedly, leaning in as she worked, so now her breath added more humidity to the rising air of his dampening crotch. “Teaching you to enjoy yourself, Sir. It's not healthy to keep these lustful urges, these natural impulses, all bottled up inside. Три.”

He throbbed again, and now couldn't hold in the moan. Each time she counted down, each time she used that Voice, his loins ached with a contained, bound, chained pleasure. Burning male need, distilled and amplified, rocked his rod with enough force he fancied he might tear his underwear.

“As for what's gotten into me, inside me? Why Sir, that would be my Master, he's been, everywhere~.”

A cold chill grew in Alexei then, as a flick of the wanton woman's eyes made him keenly aware that they were not alone in the moonlit room. Hidden in shadow, indistinct against the black, a figure, tall and horned, sat motionless in Alexei's own armchair, watching passively with glowing, slitted eyes. The Boyar looked into those orbs with their inner light, and gulped, knowing it must be the devil himself he looked upon, only the great enemy could stoke such fear, or cause Eliza to have fallen to such depravity.

“Два.” Eliza continued her torture, and now the feather was but one of the torments he suffered, for the maid had, at some point, slipped her free hand beneath his drawers, her claws scraping about his tight, straining, sac. “Oh Sir, I can feel how desperate you are to satiate that need, that thirst inside you. Just as I was once. Don't worry, by then end of the night, you'll be just like me, and never want for pleasure again~.”

“Like you?” With a painful effort, he pulled his eyes away from the thing in the chair, and saw at once what his mind had refused to accept. This was no longer his Eliza, the chaste and dutiful girl he'd been so proud of. Her draconic horns had lengthened, curled about her ears, taken on a pearlescent sheen. Aside from the lengthening of teeth and horns about her face, he saw other aspects of her had become engorged, bloated in a phallic way. Her nipples protruded a full fingers length, fat and turgid, unfit to be on a woman's body. Each was ran through with piercings, three golden studs a side, puffing up the flesh further in a way that made Alexei deeply uncomfortable to even look upon. A scent came with her too, cloyingly sweet, pungently animal, and undeniably of sex, her dark purple scales rippled with the aroma of lust in a haze, that only grew worse when she swung a thigh over the lip of the bed, and revealed her naked labia. They too, were pierced, ran through with hoops. What should have been a dainty bud at their apex was instead the same grotesque protuberance of a pseudo-cock that he now remembered, as stiff as his own member, but a third the mass.

Lady no more, she was her Master's creature now. A demoness, a temptress, corrupter of the fleshly pleasures, with designs upon his immortal soul.

“Not long now, Sir. Один.” The throb that came then was painful, his mast at full tilt, unable to engorge anymore, veins bulging, skin stretching, tract rippling. “Just a snap of my fingers, and all that tension, all that lust, will come spilling out. All I need to do is-”

He squawked and hollered like a man on the gallows, watching her raise two painted claws, wet with pre, before his eyes. “Wait! Wait no! Stop! Eliza! Stop! Haven't I been good to you? Haven't I been fair? Please, be fair to me! Give me a chance! I didn't want to be here, I didn't want this!”

“Hmmm,” the teasing succubus paused, the feather dropping, but her fingers pinched still. “Well, I guess it wouldn't be fair for me to just make you cum your soul, right out of those ripe, swollen balls. Not if you really don't want me to.”

Alexia breathed a sigh of relief, even as he felt the straining of his urethra, right on the cusp. The faintest touch would have made him cum fire a cannon, if it wasn't for the demon's conditioning holding him back. He was about to give his thanks, to bargain, till...

'Snap'.

Howling, he went off like a rocket. Hips jerking, balls clenching, dick rearing. The bound Boyar stained his belly and briefs in a tide of musky, sticky white. An uneven volley of wet shots, and with each one he moaned, sure he was about to fall into damnation, as the relief rushing through his body was beyond heavenly. It left him weeping, gasping, exhausted in the aftershock, unable to think of much save what the repercussions would be for his failure to resist.

“Oh, you didn't think it would be that quick did you?” Laughing, dragging a claw through his now musky belly fur, Eliza gloated at his distress. “Oh no, you need to want it, to ask for the gift. So, I'll make you a promise. If you can resist begging me to let you finish by dawn, then I'll let you go, I'll never bother you again. Why, I might even let you drag me to the church to repent, if you think I've been a particularly bad girl, Sir. But if you fail, I'll be more than happy to make you cum your 'Souls' out, all, night, long~.”

The sight of the demoness, with her claw in her mouth, sucking it clean of his own seed, was almost enough to make the poor Boyar hard again, and send him to damnation on the spot. But with his heart in his throat, he nodded, knowing he could endure anything for the few hours he had left before sunrise. He had avoided temptation for decades, been a good and Christian man since his daughter had come into his life. For that, and for her, he could hold onto his soul no matter what the fiend might do.

Grinning broader than any cat, the succubus dismounted the bed, and circled towards the door. Tracking her in trepidation, Alexei's eyes again caught on the figure in the corner, watching the play go on, unblinkingly. The demonic maid’s claws clacked on the handle, as she opened the way wide, and he finally realised what it was she had said.

“He's ready for you now, Cher Ami. Come come, let him have a look at you.”

Horror greater than any other took him then, as the figure behind the door stepped into the dim beam of light. He groaned and begged 'No, not her.' But it was. In her fine French dress, the bustle and skirts left behind, revealing long, golden legs, generous hips, into the tight wasp waist of her corset. The strings were cross tied, and half laced, leaving her bounty barely contained, and yearning for freedom. The blue dye of the silk was near black in the shadow, making her blonde curls stand out in stark relief, as her rough rose up into an elegant neck. Her head was down, her hands clasped before her, a picture of demure femininity, but her eyes were glassy, distant, those of a blind woman.

Lilita stepped inside the accursed chamber, shy and bashful, bobbing to where he lay on the bed as if he were not her father, nor that he was coated in his own semen.

“Thank you for indulging my selfishness, Sir. I know this is not appropriate, and yet I find I cannot help myself. I'll be in your care tonight.” She curtsied again, chest noticeably bobbing and heaving as her sensitive nose drew in the musky aroma of her own father's seed. And still she did not react as if anything were the matter.

“Do you like her, Sir?” The playwright of the performance crooned, taking the hand of her friend to guided her to the bed. “I've been working on her even longer than I have yourself. You would not believe the depths of repressed passion, and lust, within your daughter's heart.”

“Lilita! Snap out of this! Cannot you not see this devil has bewitched us?!” Alexei barked, straining as the roped dug painfully into his wrists. But the young woman did not react.

Leading her like a Judas-goat, Eliza set the young woman at the foot of the bed, reclining herself at her former employer's side. “She hears and sees what I wish her to. She won't be free of the illusion, not until I snap my claws again. Now, let's see how long you can last, when it's your own flesh and blood trying to please you. Go on, Cher Ami, you can touch him. I won't mind.”

Shivering in barely contained lust, the Borzoi maiden reached out with a tentative claw, her fingers trailing up the bound man's thighs, till settling on his drawers. “It's... alright, isn't it Lizi? You are sure you don't mind... sharing him with me like this?”

“I'm sure, Lili,” the treacherous maid said in the tones of a loving teacher, and act betrayed by the flick of her tongue around her lips. “Go on, he's ready for you. Get your first feel of a real man.”

Deaf to his pleas, Lilita did just that, her delicate pads daring to venture up, and caress his soaking tip. He was softening up, but a quick command of “Десять,” had his protesting penis juddering back to fullness. So much so that the young woman squeaked and flinched, but a nod from her mentor had the girl's palm wrap about the very girth that had helped bring her into the world.

“He's so damp,” she said in a reverent whisper.

“He's just excited to meet you. Go on, don't be afraid. Девять.”

He jolted again, gaining his full, natural, thickness, even as his mind revolted with the knowledge that it was his own daughter exploring his shame.

Lilita trailed her tips up and down for a moment more, squeezing gently on the grey and red flesh, her ensorcelled eyes never moving from her fixation. Again the demon spoke, and harder still he became in her grasp. Again and again, till he felt as if he would rupture in his daughter’s paw.

“He looks more than warmed up now. Why don't you help him get more, comfortable, Lili?” Eliza purred, and with her smile the young maiden lost all control of herself.

Tongue lolling, breath huffing, Lilita fell face first into the musky wetness of her father's soiled undergarments. The borzoi woman took a heavy drag of his scent, nose digging into where his balls met his sheath, and proceeding to climb from there.

“He smells, incredible,” she muttered, tongue touching and tasting his shame, “almost like-”

“Take off his pants,” Eliza interrupted, and the faraway look in Lilita's eyes grew even stronger.

Encouraged, the young woman opened her muzzle, and closer her teeth about the sodden cloth. She tugged and worried at it, working it by fractions down his legs, to tangle about his knees, leaving his monstrously hard rod standing proud and erect. A dribble of precum ran down its side, the whole edifice a sticky testament to his previously dormant virility.

“Oh my, Lili, I didn’t say you had to use your mouth. Though that definitely made him happy. Isn't that nice, Sir? To have your daughter so eager to taste your cock? Such a dutiful, thoughtful woman she's grown up to be. Aren't you glad you brought us together?”

He would have objected, if not at that moment the panting lustful woman, dragged herself up his body. Her corset finally lost the battle with her burgeoning breasts, releasing her golden ruff and the globes inside to dangle before his eyes as she straddled his thighs. Between her own he could see she had forgone small clothes, a wet and quivering pair of pink lips glistening with pearls of anticipation, then she began to grind them back and forth across his sac.

“Forgive me, Sir. But I just... you are just…” Her fingers wrapped feverishly about his shaft, heat and need radiating from her skin, as she inexpertly began to drag her womanhood up and down his full girth. “It's here, isn't it? I just have to... no, no, that's not right, maybe...?”

Alexei thought his doom forestalled, as his inexperienced daughter fumbled with aligning his drooling tip with her watering depths. Unfortunately, a second set of hands intervened.

“Here, let me handle that, just raise your hips a little Lili,” Eliza chimed, and like the good puppet she was, Lilita complied. A single claw tipped the fat, tapered head of Alexei's shaft into the furrow of her sex, where it sank in by a centimetre, and then another. “There, that's the spot. Now, let gravity do the rest~.”

A moan, a sigh, an almost relieved gasp, escaped her muzzle, as her weight alone was enough to take him the rest of the way. Her tunnel was tight and tense, unused to intrusion, but unable to resist the hypnotised manhood of her own father. There was a brief pause in which she hiccuped, holding herself still as a prickle of pain run up her spine and shivered her tail. Before a pair of taloned hands took her hips, and eased her passage out of virginity. Down she went, deeper and deeper, till with a final gasp, she was seated in the lap of the man who raised her, his knot beating against her outer folds, his balls throbbing against her buttocks.

“Ah-aha~. So-so that's how it fits,” she muttered, her tongue lolling as the sensation of being utterly filled took over her senses. Some deep part of her, deeper than his cock was currently knocking, was dimly aware of the significance of the man she was riding. But any chance for reflection was robbed from her, as a snake-like tongue whispered in her ear, and her hips were pulled up, and pushed down again.

“Go on, Lili. He's all yours, for tonight. Enjoy this precious moment. It can only happen once~.”

That was all the bewitched bitch needed. Mechanically at first, she raised her tail end, wincing as the dog's dick dragged through her torn hymen, before falling with a wet slap of unleashed arousal. Then again, and again, till her own desires took hold of her, and she was bouncing, panting, fucking her 'Papa' with wet, meaty 'Plaps'.

“Lilita. Daughter. You have to, stop. I'm your father!” Whined Alexei, straining against the bonds, the pain helping to ignore the incredible sensation of a virginal cunt sawing up and down his impossibly hard length.

“Oh Sir, you shouldn't say such things,” Lilita shivered, fur on end as she rode all the harder atop him. “Making me think of. Ahh~, my own, father, oh God~. Making me imagine that, my Papa was...”

She broke off in another yelp, of pleasure this time, clitoris grinding hard on his ensorcelled knot as she bit her lips and rolled her unseeing eyes in a small orgasm. Her inner walls clamped and rippled, strangling the man inside in fluttering contractions that made him yelp as well. He would have cum, despite his own wishes, but the demon's hold on his seed was too strong, and all that happened was a dry ejaculation which brought no relief.

“This is incredible,” the young woman panted, catching herself as she fell, propped up so her full and bountiful breasts wrapped about the tip of his snout, smothering him in familial fluff. “I think I'm in love with this, with you. Oh if only you weren't with Lizi. It's as if you're made for me.”

Cackling, Eliza ran a claw up the Boyar's chest, teasing a nipple before cupping his chin, keeping his eyes buried deep in his daughter's tits. “Isn't he just? Almost as if you were cut from the same cloth. Oh, but don't forget to pull off when he's close. You wouldn't want any, accidents, would you Cher Ami~.”

He himself was in a hell of his own breeding, his own lusts having been manipulated and forced to bear fruit. His hips were already bruising from the way his daughter's pelvis slammed into his, and the scent of thick, female fertility, played around his nostrils. The notion made his mind shrink in horror, even as wild imaginings twisted in his gut to make him throb again in anticipation.

“Oh Sir, it's happening again. Please... please make this special for me. Call me... call me daughter more, let me call you... call you Papa!” Her voice was like a whip, lashing his soul, his body already reacting to the forbidden taboo.

“No! No, I can't, I can't!” he cried, but his cock only pulsed the harder, the demonic influence of Eliza's magic stoking the fires of his libido till his knot was visibly pulsating. The pleasure was beyond belief, as was the need to finish, to let out the mounting pressure in his penis, and finally be free of the need to fill the female making terrible love to him.

“Papa~! Oh yes, I can feel you throbbing, oh yes, Papa. Ahhn! Unf~!”

Another crushing squeeze from his daughter's sex, another dry eruption from his strangled cock. His heart could barely contain it, he thought it would burst before his balls with the strain he was under. And still Lilita did not stop. It took just a suggestion from the waiting demoness, and she was moving again, clearly dishevelled and exhausted, but not caring, or not feeling, with the deep spell she was under.

“She's dreamed of this, you know,” Eliza whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek as he whimpered in desperation. “What a shock it was, hearing her inner most confession, coaxing out her most hidden secrets. She thought she'd put it well behind her, but your oh so proper daughter, has always looked at you as more than just a father. She was so ashamed of herself, but now look at her. She's free to be who she wants to be. Don't you wish you could be the same? To be free to just admit what you want, and blow your big, beautiful load, deep inside that perfect, tight, cunt?”

He was about to break. His body, his mind, his soul, all were on the brink, and his mouth could not even form words anymore. Just a low, keening, wail of want. How long had they been at it? Mating, rutting across the marital bed? The same one Lilita was conceived in? Had it been hours, or just minutes? Time seemed meaningless, as if he was trapped in the moment of death, between hell and heaven, the devil and her angel of lust, each conspiring to damn him for all eternity.

“He's close,” said demon chuckled, “not much more and you'll make him ever so happy. Why not tell him what you want, that will surely make him, pop~.”

“Yes, yes, oh, Sir!” Lilita was drooling now, the constant humping of her clit on his swollen knot causing her to lose her mind. With all they'd done, her labia were loosening, enough that even his fully engorged glans was sinking a little deeper on each hard downswing. “I know... I know I shouldn't but... but I want you to finish. I want you to do it inside me. Please, Sir. Fill me up. Make a mother of me, Papa!”

Alexei broke then. His will, his resistance, it all crumbled before his daughter's desperate plea, to be bred by the same cock that had given her life. He needed to cum, he needed relief, and he needed to make his daughter happy. That was the only thought that remained as his eyes met the devil's, and his mouth formed the words that spelled his doom.

“Eliza... I... I... I can't... I need to cum... Please, let me cum...”

“Oooh, very good. You’ll feel so much better soon,” Eliza grinned, and he saw her claws raise for the snap of her fingers. Lilita rose again, Alexei held his breath, the fingers paused before his eyes. And then his daughter slapped down, and took his entire knot.

'Snap!'.

The squeeze of his daughter's vestibule about his turgid bulb was the last sensation he felt, before the boiling tide smashed free of his balls. Visibly crawling up his tract, it was as painful as it was blissful to be free of it. Damn the consequences, damn the damnation, they were nothing compared to the exultation of that one expulsion of pent up semen. He didn't think, didn't try to rationalise. His mind was only on the wet, tight, quim of his daughter, and how he wanted to fill it to the brim with his seed.

Just as it freed his semen from its cage, the veil was lifted from Lilita's eyes. Shocked at the inundation of his climax, she saw clearly her father beneath her, howling his lust into her body, as she lost control and did likewise. A hot, throbbing, wetness, painted her again and again. She had flashes of thought, of the price she might pay, of the wrongness of what she'd done. But none of it mattered anymore! “Papa,” she screamed, and “Lilita,” he shouted back!

'Snap', 'Snap', 'Snap', 'Snap'.

Eliza clicked again and again, making sure Alexei's ejaculation would never end. The white tide thinned, but the pleasure didn't. A purplish glow suffused their loins, a sweet and musky aroma clouded the air, an infernal buzzing filled the ears.

The escaping splashes from the lover's union went from pearly seed, to flecked with pink, till a thick ooze of congealed, expelled, purity, seeped out and around their coupling. An unnatural light filled the woman's womb, as her own father's soul, turned to nothing more than sexual energy, suffused her flesh, and transformed it to a new, lustful form.

Groaning and orgasming still, the borzoi bitch's body bulged more obscenely, fat and tissue growing in her rump, her hips, her breast, remodelling her externally, and internally. As her gut began to expand with all it was taking, her womb transformed into a second stomach, a sack to hold and digest her new diet, while further down other changes took root to better fit her purpose. With her next climax, she flung her hips forward, and in the motion, her clit surged out into a perfect mate for the cock deep inside her quim. The newly made phallus was more purple, mottled, and obscene in every facet, and it was just as aroused as the rest of her. When she came again, so did it, painting her father's chest in her own molten soul-stuff, lashing him with thick pink strings, which bubbled and hissed as they were absorbed into his fur.

Alexei drank in his daughter's lost innocence, wearing it forever as his coat curled and changed. Thick swirls of purple sprouted against his abdomen and chest, immortalising his daughter's first masculine ejaculation. Below, from what leaked from her lips, his balls bathed in her potent need, and doubled in size to meet them. Thick veins bulged within his sack, as the goose-eggs they now wrapped about became unceasing seed factories, churning fresh fluids from nothing to fill and bloat his daughter's gut. Below even that, his small star between his glutes formed into a puffy ring, as inviting as a female orifice, and just as moist.

Neither needed the snapping of Eliza's fingers any longer. Driven by unleashed desire, unrestrained by such petty things as morality and decency, the newborn incubus pulled, and broke the restraints on his arms, grabbing the fresh succubus on his lap, and wrapping her in a less than fatherly embrace.

Leaving them to the rush of their first sex as infernal spawn, the fallen dragoness slipped off the covers, turned to face the room, and bowed to the sound of slow applause from her loving audience.

“Did I please you, Father?”

The thing in the chair stood, clapping still, and stepped into the pre-dawn light.

Father Bekski smiled dotingly on his 'Child', the corrupted priest visibly aroused by the show she had made for him. As the familial demons fucked themselves to exhaustion for his entertainment, he rewarded his ever diligent convert with a claw under the chin, and a long-tongued kiss, that travelled down her throat.

“Very good, my Child,” he curled the words out in infernal smoke, the senior demon of their pack favouring his first re-born with a playful grope, before pressing her down to her knees in front of his arousal. While Eliza saw to her 'Patriarch', he played with the thing in his claws, turning the somewhat stained envelope over and over as he listened to the sounds of slapping and sucking. “Make sure you clean them both up when they're done,” he mused, patting Eliza on the horns, “we want everything to be perfect for when Prince Dolokhov arrives.”

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