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Whispering filled his head, gnawing its way through his thoughts. Telling Octavian to finish her. He looked at a woman on the ground, at her face. Barely breathing, unconscious. Blood forming a puddle beneath her. So young… not a woman, just a girl. She got all that time to live and still chose to come here. To find her father, who is right here, in the corner. Covered in ice like a grotesque statue, his face filled with fear. Not for himself, but his child. He can see everything yet unable to do anything. What a miserable fate. Octavian raises his hand, concentrating on a spell, one that will kill swiftly. He doesn't want Cadence to suffer. She earned that at least. Good fighter. Made him unsure of his victory at one point. Someone who understood music even, he saw that sparkle in her eyes, similar to one he had.
He froze. Was it really necessary to kill her? What for?
Whispering got stronger, but he ignored it.
She touched the Lute, tasted a mere fragment of its power. Maybe, just maybe, she will understand. If they talk. They can write songs together! He will even try to tolerate the presence of her father. Whispers turned into screams, making his head spin. Deafening. Choir of voices ordering him to kill, to spill blood, saying that in every language simultaneously. He could hear every word, understand it, even when they turned into white noise.
"No." He said, his voice steady.
The Lute didn't like that. It roared, and screamed, and cried, burning words all over his thoughts. Octavian falls to his knees, pressing hands to his head as if he was trying to prevent his skull from cracking.
"I don't want!" He screams and everything quiets. His ears ringing. He can hear his own heartbeat fastening. Mind raising through every possibility he can think of.
He angered the Lute.
It was bad, so bad he was scared to turn around, to look at that artifact, let it see his eyes. His soul, all that was left of it. Such a miserable move — it wasn't really his for years, he couldn't hide it from the new owner. Octavian felt a cold wave touching his back. He never was that scared before. Something was forming behind him, growing, pressing on his form, the mere presence felt like it was tearing his skin and grinding his bones. Closing its claws on his throat. It felt almost unreal. He forced himself to inhale, catching that feeling. Unreal. Fake. Everything that he felt now was fake. Right. The Lute likes to play with him like that. Altering thoughts, messing with his sanity. And now it got too far. Octavian grits his teeth, standing up, fists clenched.
"You," he turns. There it was, lying on the ground, glimmering in the dim light of torches. He felt weight leaving his shoulders. "You are nothing but an instrument. You belong to me. And you will do what I say!"
It took him one heartbeat too long to understand that something was not right.
Strange noise, sounding like thousands of flies, like falling rocks, like thunder. The Lute was laughing. Its form twisting, metal screeching in agony. It cracked. Deforming, growing bigger. Sharp spikes coming out of it, melting into each other. Octavian stepped back, his eyes wide. The Lute was barely recognizable now. It grew teeths sharp as a knife, metal pulsating and bulging as it formed into paws and muscle. Long tail cracking the floor as it came down. Lute's neck was so unnaturally long he felt nauseous. He knew it was powerful, ancient, filled with magic to the brim. He thought it was just reflecting the last emotions of its previous owners. Not that it was alive. Mistake that could be his last. He felt heat rising through him, concentrating in palms. He was ready to create fire, the deadliest variation of spell that he knew.
Sharp scales grew out of the beast's back, tearing the skin, glowing purple. Lute roared and opened its eyes.
The next second Octavian yelped, feeling sharp pain at the back of his head. Then he understood that he was sprawled on the floor, hands pinned by claws right beside his head. He moved his fingers, redirecting the spell he was readying. Flame burst through the room, licked the golden skin, engulfed it by a few seconds.
It did nothing.
Lute didn't move as if it wanted for him to see, to understand how helpless he truly was. It didn't know that the flame was not meant to harm it. Octavian could only hope that it worked, that this beam reached the ice, melting it. Those two little heroes are not obliged to die here with him. He hadn't even wanted to fight with them in the first place.
"Get off me!" He screamed, kicking the golden belly, drawing its full attention onto him. He couldn't free his hands, claws cutting into his wrists as he tried.
Lute was looking at him, slowly lowering its head. He felt warm breathing, moist and foul, smelling like rotten flesh. Disgusting. Saliva was dripping on his face.
"You shall learn," Lute spoke, its voice distorted. It slithered its tongue out, long and thin, licking its sharp teeth. "How to behave."
Lute arched, pressing its back paw onto his chest. His ribs were aching under that weight. It pulled, making him cry out in pain as sharp claws dug into his skin. Its soft tongue pushed in his opened mouth, sliding deeper as he gagged. Octavian trashed, trying to free his hands, to turn away, as he felt how parts of his cloth moved with the claws, leaving him mostly naked. He let out a muffled scream as three lines formed on his body, emitting warm blood. Absolutely unimportant when he couldn't breathe. White specks filled his vision, his lungs burning. The tongue was pushed even deeper and then finally out of him. He gasped, catching air with his lips. Trembling. Fighting with nausea from the taste on his lips.
"Pathetic," Lute said. "We have just started and you are shaking already."
It moved, sliding its tongue over his face, catching tears, going lower, leaving saliva on his neck. It purred with delight, licking blood off his chest, then stomach.
"You wouldn't…" Octavian whispered, terrified.
"Oh, I sure do." Lute licked his thigh, getting its head uncomfortably close.
He felt sick. Helpless. Hated every moment of that. And Lute was bathing in his discomfort. There was no way for him to escape — it was too strong. He couldn't even try to close his legs, knowing that it won't hesitate to break them. Why should it be gentle when it can easily bring him back even if he dies in the process? Hot breathing brushed his skin. Lute growled, its tongue wrapping around his limp dick. He bit his lip, tasting metal. Fuck. Its growls started to sound annoyed. And then he felt that. Slight tingling behind his mind, somewhat similar to one he got when Lute talked to him. Like a wave, that feeling coursed through his nerves, setting them on fire. Suddenly he was feeling too much. Sharp pebbles pressing on his back, rough cloth rubbing skin, breathing touching his thighs scattering goosebumps all over his legs. Every touch felt like a star exploding underneath his skin. The tongue moved, setting his mind blank with that pleasure. Overwhelming, yet fake. He closed his mouth, not wanting any sound to escape him and failing miserably. The touch felt amazing, making him want to thrust his hips just to feel more. He whined and shut his eyes as heat rose inside him.
The tongue tightened around his dick, flicked on its tip, making his entire body jolt. Octavian was suffocating in that pleasure with nothing he could do besides knowing that it was fake to the core. He could imagine how amused Lute was, playing with him like that. His member got hard, being rubbed on all sides. And then, as he was getting too close, it stopped. His dick was left alone, covered in saliva. He hoped that it was the end, that Lute was bored, counted it as enough. It was thinking otherwise. Hot tongue touched his ass, pushing inside without a warning. He gasped, arching, painfully bumping the back of his head onto the floor.
"Stop!" He sobbed, feeling the tongue slide inside of him even faster. "I— I'm sorry! Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Lute got so close its teeth punctured skin on his tights, adding more pain to all that mess in his head. The tongue moving inside, folding over itself, twisting, thrusting in and out. Wet noise coming from it, overwhelming and inescapable. It was wrong at so many levels. Then why did it felt so good? Octavian trembled, heat overtaking his mind. Like a golden flash behind his closed eyes. He moaned, cumming all over himself. For a moment stretched into eternity he felt pure happiness, basking in its warm light. And then reality came crashing back. He tasted blood in his mouth, dripping from the bitten lip. His insides were aching being stretched like that. For a fraction of a second he shed all foreign emotions and was lying cold, and scared, and hurt. Alone in the face of the most ancient thing in this world. Dizziness overtook him, masking how Lute whispered, forcing all that out of his head, replacing it with arousal.
"I'm not here for apologies, my little bard," Lute freed his hands. Its claw brushed his cheek, asking him to open his eyes. "I'm here to break you."
He is free but trapped. There's nowhere he can go, even if he manages to crawl away without dying. No one to help him here, no one waiting outside. It's becoming hard to think, to concentrate. As if his thoughts were underwater. Lute stepped closer, its belly over him now. He felt more desperate with every second nothing was touching him, yet still he shut his lips tight, trying to stay silent. Desperately wishing to be anywhere but here, to stop existing. Lute allowed his little rebellion. Octavian knew it wasn't for long. He lowered his gaze, tracing Lute's stomach. Looking for what waited for him. Inhaling sharply as he saw it. Golden metal formed into smooth shape, long, getting thicker closer to its base, full of bumps sticking out on sides. He swallowed loudly. Lute moved, lying its cock on his belly. It pressed on his dick, enough to make him hard again. But even with all that lust forced in his mind he felt scared. That thing reached his ribs. He'll be dead, surely.
Octavian tried to push Lute away, clawing at its neck, kicking its legs. It was his flesh against metal. Nothing he could do will save him. He felt it thrust hips slowly, just to show him, to let him understand what length soon will be inside. Shivers run down his spine from all that rubbing his dick got. Lute readjusted its front paws, placing them to his shoulders so he wouldn't just slide on the floor. He held his breath, feeling metal pressed to his butt. Surprisingly warm. He curled into a ball as much as he could, pressing knees to his chest. Hiding. Lute pushed, and he cried, feeling sharp pain as the tip entered him. Cold sweat covered his back, making cloth stick to his skin. It slid deeper, stopping dead with not even a half inside. Lute growled.
"Please!" Octavian stutters, finding it hard to remember words with something that big inside. "Please stop! I beg you—"
Lute thrusts its hips, slamming its dick into him with a loud slap. He felt something inside breaking.
"Oh, look at you. Poor thing," it thrusts again, watching him squirm, gulping air. "What's wrong? Can't breathe while I'm inside? Am I too big for you?"
It hurts, hurts so bad nothing foreign can possibly stick to his mind. And yet… he feels pleasure. He inhales as Lute pulls out, hugging its neck, knees shaking. Maybe all that time alone in the Crypt really drove him insane. Maybe Lute broke him long, long ago.
"I know you better than even you do," he hears something in its words. Something similar to care. "I can feel every thought, every sensation forming in your mind. Don't be shy."
Sweet, sweet lies. He was never like that. But his mind was nothing but a canvas to that monster, all these years. Is he even slightly similar to old himself anymore? His body aches with every movement, but he still moves his hand, reaching for his dick. His thoughts tangled with each other. He doesn't want to think how fucked up he is if that really is what turns him on. Lute goes hard and fast, beating moans and whimpers out of him. It whispers, pressing tongue to his ear, licking it.
"Do you want me to keep talking?"
He whines, gulping air between thrusts. "Yes... yes, please," pleasure overwhelms him but whatever he does he can't finish. "You did something to me? Why am I—"
"Unable to cum? Sorry, darling, but it's my turn."
He moans and squirms, trying to move his hips. It feels like dying, to have something that big rearrange your insides, filling your veins with pleasure with every thrust.
"My precious little thing," Lute licks his face, going slower. "You belong to me. You aren't in control, never was and never will be. Mine." It pushes harder, arching, lifting his ass off the ground. He can feel something flowing in him, see how his stomach bulges. Lute pulls out, stepping aside, dick covered in cum. It doesn't spill out, being too deep. The pressure inside is so overwhelming that Octavian didn't even notice how Lute placed its paw on his stomach until it pushed. Viscous white liquid flowed out of him, forming a puddle beneath. He screamed, cumming.
"Thought you were better at this," Lute licked his chest, rubbing sensitive nipples, and got on top of him again. "It's good that we have all that time for you to learn, isn't it?"
He wheezed, unmoving, with no strength left. Its cock was in him, slowly moving in and out with its whole length. He asked and pleaded, begging Lute to stop. It laughed, fucking him faster.
"What if we see how much you can take before it starts to pour out on the other end?"
He felt cum flowing inside, but Lute didn't even slow down. He just couldn't take it anymore. Octavian gathered scraps of power he had left, turning it into a sharp ice spike, aiming at Lute's head. It should be a weak point, right? Ice broke with a loud crack, getting tiny snowflakes everywhere.
"And I thought you were smarter than that. Your immortality is my gift. I can take it back. I can force it into you. How long could you keep your attitude when I use you again and again? Filling and emptying, biting, scratching, tearing, yet not allowing you to die."
He coughed, feeling consciousness slowly leaving him. When the world almost faded to black he felt a painful jolt. Raw magic being pumped inside him along with cum, forcing him to stay awake. His nerves burned, bones buzzing with power. He felt like he was able to turn cities into dust with a snap of his fingers. And it was but a fraction of Lute's might. Might that he physically couldn't use to harm its owner.
"I will push until you break and laugh to your bones snapping. The best music is the one that can only be made with your body," Lute fucked him not really caring how he felt. "Don't cry, my bard. Scream for me. Shatter so I can rebuild you from the pieces."
It was like he balanced on the rope flung over a bottomless pit. The more power being pumped inside of him, the less pleasure he felt. As if some sort of a curse was shedding off, unable to hold onto him anymore. He could only wonder if it really was his feeling in the first place or he just got too tired to feel anything at all. He looked at Lute, not seeing his muse anymore. Only a beast that would lie and hurt him for fun.
"My bard, my pretty bard," it whispered, its tail curling in rings. "Oh, I should make that the only way for you to keep immortality. So you wouldn't have a choice besides begging me to fuck life back into your body."
Octavian didn't want that. It was not the thing he searched for when he was a human. He didn't even remember what it was to be truly alive. So why did he keep avoiding death? His vision went blurry, Lute's words getting more silent with every second. Looks like it was really too much this time. If not for his body then for his soul.
What a shame.
He felt it crack, almost broken in halves. He was swimming in that pleasant darkness, awaiting his end, wondering if he was dead already. Then something dripped on his face, covering it drop by drop. Foul taste met him as that warm liquid touched his lips.
He opened his eyes, not even realizing they were closed before. As he looked up, he saw silver shining in the center of Lute's chest. A sword.
Those brave little heroes came back for him.