09. The Moth by Ilph

ilph

The drow had just stumbled upon this new job. Sure, the kid that had hired him made it sound glamorous, and indeed it was starting to look interesting at least. He was young and strong, with biceps as wide as a drow warrior’s. He took great pride in the numerous piercings and tattoos that decorated his body, all of them self-designed and most of them self-applied. His hair was short, spiked up with crushed embermoth eggs, and his eyes blue, unnaturally colored that way with dye.

Stepping into the web chamber, he studied his new occupant. She was amazing, he had to admit. For a non-drow, that is. He wasn’t quite sure what she was – possibly some sort of demon. He thought she surely had to be a succubus. For no other creature would have such a beautiful body, perfectly proportioned breasts, a narrow waist and curvaceous hips. Long bat-like wings sprouted from her back, extending out behind her. And a pair of horns peeked out from under her long reddish-gold hair.

She was captured like a moth in the webs that filled the chamber. The webs his spiders spun became strong as steel once they had been exposed to air for 30 seconds. His succubus was nearly cocooned in them, from her ankles to her wrists. She had been fighting, but her flesh was weaker than the webs, and numerous gashes and cuts streaked her body, creating a network of narrow open wounds and bloody streams over her pale skin.

Reflecting at the oath she swore before he had silenced her by inserting a narrow rothe intestine tube up her nose, down her throat and into her stomach, he could not control the welling fear that possessed him once more. Her eyes had been full of loathing, her voice dripping with acid. “I will feast on your heart, wael, then send your bloodless carcass to your Queen before I’ve breathed my last breath! Save yourself and free me now and I might take pity upon you! Your master is doomed as are you if you damage a single hair on his head!” A shiver drifted through his body, hot and vibrant. He was impressed, more than a tad bit intimidated and extremely turned on.

Approaching the demon woman, he attached a small bladder to the end of the tube sticking out her nose. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he flooded her stomach with warm water and a chalky substance that instantly turned her insides against her. Placing his hand on her belly, he continued to fill her, until he could feel the pressure against his fingertips, hard and hot. Grinning, he gave her stomach a shove, to which she grunted in pain. Too much more would burst her stomach, and he didn’t want her dead. But some pain would remind her how helpless she was.

Next he grabbed a handful of her long hair. Using a knife, he sliced off what he held; the beautiful locks fell freely, covering the floor. Not real mindful of the quality of his work, he continued to slice off the strands, bit by bit, until all that remained was a short mop of wild curls around her head. The small horns that poked out of the top front of her forehead seemed longer now that her hair was gone. As an afterthought, he collected the silky locks littering the floor and placed the mass on the single piece of furniture in the room; a sturdy, long table. The unusual color struck him, he knew what he’d do with the glittering length.

While the fluid in her bowels churned and worked, the drow opened a sack that contained a thick rancid mud. It was rich with carbon, volcanic pumice and lime. Scooping it up in his hands, he applied the mixture to her skin, scrubbing deeply into the most mundane crevices of her body. Each inch he covered, burned like acid over fresh flesh. It was a lengthy process because of the webs that bound her, the extended wings behind her, and the distracting beauty he discovered within the smallest details of the mysterious woman.

By the time he was finished with her wings, his hands moved with great care, like a lover’s might. Fingers delicate and relaxed glided effortlessly over each and every curve, between the fine bones of her slender fingers, and under the swell of each breast.

Once completed, her body finally purged everything it had inside it. It was not a pretty process, stomach cramps and contracting muscles pushed out her bowel’s dark contents, letting it fall freely down her legs and over the floor. The drow assisted the process, with warm water and cream, completely flushing her out. When the cramping subsided, he retrieved a hose from the far side of the room, billows created strong water pressure, which he turned on her body. The bitter cold water further burned her skin as it seared away fluid, soil, and ointment, leaving the satiny flesh an angry red. Everything drifted down a small grate in the floor.

The drow took the time to dress the wounds on her wrists and ankles, injuries she sustained during her capture. The clean water continued to drip down her wondrous skin, revealing the sweet scent of her body to his darkness-honed senses. Unaware of the natural spell her body was weaving over him, he spoke as he stood, “Do you know what my Master has planned for you?”

Touching her collarbone, his skin was smoothly soft from the scouring. His hand drifted lower, over her right breast. “Perhaps I can distract my Master. Such beauty as yours should not be destroyed by madness.”

Wed, Aug 4th – 11:45PM