Having given explicit instructions to her apprentice that should last until closing, Victoria ascended the narrow wooden, stairs to her apartment above the shop and closed the stain glass door behind her. Where the curio shop was a dark jungle of magical items, sounds, and activities, her apartment was tidy and regal (but also magical). Her students, even her apprentice, were never allowed to be here, indeed, even when she brought play partners to 3 Boman St, she would take them to the dungeon to play instead of her apartment. The duties of a Deamoness often required solitude. This was her sanctuary; the physical manifestation of her mind palace and it would be unthinkable to sully it with any type of influence from the outside world.
She kicked her black heels off, leaving them by the door for later. She walked through the small foyer placing her keys in a bowl on the side table. She caught a glimpse of her tall, curvy body in the ornate floor to ceiling mirror that hung in the entryway. She wore a grey midi dress that opened on the sides at the waste. She let one of her long, athletic leg escape to the side and whistled, turning her butt left then right, marveling at the curves of her body. She threw her thick, long braid behind her then entered the sitting room. The days light shined onto the floor at her feet through the yellow and green stained-glass windows that faced West. She lifted the needle on her antique gramophone, chose a groove, and placed it on the vinyl. She made a small, almost sad smile as Rachmaninoff began to play quietly, the sounds from the shop below receding completely, cutting that world off for now.
She slid the dark, cherry, pocket doors that led to the parlor open and poured a drink from the bar inside. Whiskey, one cube. After a taste, she added a splash of water to the tumbler. The parlor’s thick curtains were drawn closed, the only light coming through the entryway to the sitting room. Veronica moved to her thinking chair, placing her drink on the antique table next to it and turned on a brass lamp. The chair had been with Veronica for centuries and was one of the few items she had been able to evacuate from Constantinople when the Ottoman’s invaded. It was a unique magical item, evil, some might say (she would vehemently disagree), and one of her true treasures. After the day’s events, she was looking forward to using it. She had some decisions to make and the chair was exactly what she needed to make them.
She lifted her dress and pulled her black lace panties, garter belts, and sheer stockings down to her ankles. As she began sitting, she heard a terrified voice shriek, “Oh for fuck’s sake, what in the fuck is this!?”, from between her legs. Any mortal would have fled in terror but Veronica had been using the chair for hundreds of years and was used to it, though she would prefer they didn’t scream when she was trying to relax. Rolling her eyes, she turned around to see Mitchell, a douche bag pedophile she had sent to the Neverlands (similar to Purgatory), not more than a week ago, oh, how he had cried and pleaded as she physically forced him into the dark wagon that would deliver him. His face had materialized in the leather seat of the chair the moment she began to sit, leaving his faceless body defenseless in that sinister place. “Oh”, Veronica said, a pout forming on her full lips, “You thought you were done with me, sweetie?”, “Fuck you”, Mitchell spat, abject terror in his eyes. “We’ll see”, Veronica shrugged, smirking. “Since you’re new to this, consider this lesson number one”, she said, turning and placing her curvaceous bottom directly on his face. Mitchell attempted to speak but the words were muffled by Veronica’s pussy and ass flesh being pressed heavily against his face. Victoria moved her bottom back and forth for a moment to get comfortable, lit a cigarette and sat back to think.
She thought of her apprentice and wondered if it was smart to leave her attending the shop alone so soon. To be safe, she cast a ward that would alert her to any unusual activity downstairs. Concerto .2 began playing in the sitting room, the music wafting quietly into the parlor. Veronica took a sip from her tumbler, deep in thought. She couldn’t wait until her apprentice had fully grown into her powers; it was lonely at the top and Samantha would be the perfect partner. Attractive, bright and lately… distracted. Was she pushing the young girl too hard, she wondered? She was outpacing the other students in her comprehension and her studies, voracious for any information regarding the arcane. No, she decided. To give Samantha less work than the other students would only add strife to the class. Mitchell’s face squirmed, his tongue working frantically under her in an attempt to catch a breath. Veronica flicked her cigarette into the ashtray, drew from it and blew the smoke down, between her legs. After a moment his tongue flail more frantically making Veronica feel giddy. She wasn’t worried about killing him, he was already dead. He didn’t know that though, hence his amusing struggle for breath. Half smirking, she returned to her thoughts. Her apprentices’ abilities impressed Veronica often but this past month had been rough. Letting that ancient alien artifact leave the store… That disaster was narrowly averted, the precious tool returned to the “off limits” area at the back of the shop with the other dangerous items. All memories had been returned to their correct minds… Veronica hoped. And the fucking nonsense with the dragon this morning… after being warned! Veronica pursed her lips and slightly shook her head. The girl was lucky to still have a head atop her shoulders…
Veronica sighed and remembered her own studies, almost eight millennia ago. The dangers never seemed so dire when she was learning the dark arts. Perhaps she didn’t realize the dangers? Simpler times, she thought, assuring herself, knowing full well that her own Master would scowl and disagree. Veronica made herself change the subject and instead daydreamed about Samantha’s sweet face, her beautiful hair and the natural, earthly way she smelled. She cared deeply for the girl. Veronica felt the familiar tugs of desire at the core of her stomach and began to get wet, smiling wistfully at the thought of the sweet sound Samantha’s voice made when she made her climax.
Mitchell, desperate for oxygen (so he thought) dug with his teeth and was able to grab a large mouthful of Veronica’s ass flesh, right next to her taint. Veronica’s eyes momentarily turned to a molten gold color at the surprise and she moaned with pleasure, the pain exciting her, a small drop of juice leaking out of her vagina onto Mitchell’s chin, “Oh, excellent idea, Mitchy boy, just what I needed.”, she cooed darkly, setting her cigarette into the ashtray. She closed her eyes and recanted a short spell…
In the Neverlands, Mitchell’s nude, filthy body had stopped walking (not that he had anywhere to go) when Veronica had sat on her thinking chair, his head stuck, looking straight up, face missing right behind his ears. Anyone that looked at him could have seen the insides of his head as he stood there, his hands clawing at where his face should have been, trying to free himself. Moments after she whispered her spell, a drove of fire ants came up from the ground around Mitchell’s feet. They moved up his legs, tickling and biting his flesh, making his body squirm and leap helplessly. A group of headless school children that had been skipping by stopped to marvel at the jig caused by the ants. They pointed and laughed and made jokes in one of the strange, backward sounding languages that are spoken in the Neverlands. Some of them leapt around, mimicking his dance, blood squirting excitedly from their severed necks. To Veronica’s delight, two of them began throwing rocks at Mitchell.
Back in the parlor, Veronica could feel his face contorting and crying helplessly under the full weight of her body. “Better than any vibrator”, she murmured, sitting back and closing her eyes, fully enjoying the way Mitchell’s agony played out on her flesh. She raised a hand to her top and flopped one of her hearty breasts out, squeezing, and then pulling it away from her body, two thin lines of milk arching gracefully away from her nipple. Fluids from her cunt soaked the seat, pooling around Mitchell. She began riding the movements of his face, thinking of her sweet Samantha. Classical music mingled wonderfully in the parlor with Mitchell’s muffled, panicked cries as the ants bit welts into his flesh back in the Neverlands. One of the school children even started exploring his asshole with a sharp stick, making the other children clap their hand as they squealed with glee. His fear sent wonderful shivers through Veronica’s body. Her untouched cigarette, mostly ash now, smoldered on the table next to her. She thought of Samantha’s deep blue eyes and how they lovingly looked at her when they fucked. Veronica’s thoughts flashed to the terrified look that would fill Samantha’s eyes when she was in a dangerous situation. She grunted and leaned forward, putting her full weight onto her clit, driving it into Mitchell’s face. One tit swayed heavily, beautifully, drips of milk escaping onto the floor between her feet. She gripped both arms of the chair, grinding down hard, eyes closed. Pussy contracting and pulsing on Mitchell’s face (he screamed and screamed), she held her breath and clenched her teeth as she climaxed, shaking her head back and forth, hair falling into her face. She enjoyed the sensation as the waves rode through her body making her visibly quiver. Exhausted, she slumped back in the chair, sweating and full of bliss.
After a few minutes, her breath relaxing, eyes still closed, a wicked smile crossed her lips. Veronica called the ants off and Mitchell’s dance slowed as she kindly shooed the children (who ran off only a short distance, hovering nearby, plotting among themselves). As the pain slightly subsided, Mitchell’s body, a disaster, kind of slumped in defeat. White welts surrounded by an angry red color covered his body, blood trickled down his legs from between his ass cheeks. Veronica tucked her breast back into her dress, pulling the strap into place on her shoulder. The seat of the chair became fluid and began to lower away from her body forming a bowl under her before hardening again, Mitchell’s face at the bottom. Mitchell, free to breath for the first time since being placed in the chair, heaved, frantically gulping air into his lungs. He felt a glimmer of hope, maybe this was almost over? Veronica was giddy at the pained and tired breathing coming from under her ass. He quietly began to whisper “I’m sorry”, repeatedly. She smirked, stamped out her old cigarette and lit a fresh one, letting it dangle from her red lips. She took a sip of whiskey and then let her bladder go. Hot piss splashed forcefully off of Mitchell’s face in the bowl under her. She sighed in relief. Mitchell, unprepared, coughed and gagged as he breathed urine into his airway. In the Neverlands, he began to dance his jig again, flailing and clawing to cover his nonexistent face. One of the children lobbed a stone from a distance, hitting him squarely in the chest, making Mitchell howl. The other headless children jumped and cheered in unison. Once her stream slowed, Victoria gave a small grunt as she farted, “Oop, incoming!” she giggled. Her asshole slowly expanded as a nice sized turd started to peek. She imagined Mitchell’s point of view and chuckled. Seeing the turd, Mitchell huffed and then screamed, horrified. Veronica took another sip of whiskey, savoring the taste and continued to enjoy her smoke, letting the excrement take its time to leave her body. Finally, a nice thick turd fell out of her and plunked loudly onto Mitchell’s face. He retched loudly and wept, making Veronica smile evilly. Satisfied, she fell back into contemplative thought. After a time everything became silent, waking Veronica out of her deep thoughts, her legs almost asleep. Mitchell had either passed out, was in shock or had accepted his fate (he wasn’t dead, she knew, can’t do that twice without magic). Veronica could hear the record in the hall, still spinning, making a repetitive scratching sound as the needle skipped. She wiped, twice, and tossed the paper into the hole. She got up to wash her hands in the basin that had formed at the top of the chair and leered down at Mitchell in the commode below. He looked up at her, submissively, face covered in Veronica’s piss and bodily fluids, a wet piece of toilet paper covering one eye and a huge turd lying next to his left ear. “Next time you are summoned, I suggest you be polite”, she scolded, “Maybe I’ll let you lick me clean and you can do some good by saving a tree”, she said. He gulped once and pleaded, “Please, I don’t understand.” Veronica shrugged, uncaring, “Shouldn’t have fucked kids, asshole.”, she said, shaking her head in disgust. Mitchell’s face relaxed into a look of realization. “Compared to their torment, you got it easy bud.”, she finished. His facial expression changed to despair as the hole closed, effectively flushing Veronica’s waste into the Neverlands. The chair bottom, completely clean, became a full, comfy seat again. Veronica sat, crossing one leg over the other. She resumed her cigarette, drink, and thoughts.
In the Neverlands, Mitchell stood in place, in shock, covered in excrement, ant bites, and other wounds, regretting his life decisions to the fullest extent that his idiot mind would allow. “Shouldn’t have fucked kids.” Veronica’s voice echoed in his thoughts.
He shuffled away, head down, no where to go. The headless children followed behind him, bleeding, taunting… reminding him. They laughed and howled wildly in that backwards language that Mitchell couldn’t understand. Some parodied his dance, others flipped birds, all had a blast.
Except for Mitchell.
Fuck that guy.
End (For now).
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/cmfc8p/troubling_decisions
This redefines revenge porn.
damn fucked up lmao