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She knows you about as well as you know yourself. Every fine detail about your personality, likes, dislikes and peeves? She knows all of them, and could recite them if she really wanted to, which, naturally, she didn't. You can feel her warm, crisp breath against your lightly sweating neck, her sharp, agile tongue tasting your flesh. She insistently continues to drag her tongue across your jugular vein, which causes you to shiver in fear. She IS a rainbow drinker, and when a rainbow drinker licks at your veins? You can only HOPE they don't take a chunk out of your neck with a grin. You whisper, pleadingly, for her to stop. You aren't ready for this.
You can barely hold yourself when you lay your fingers upon yourself, so having the most sexually experienced troll make you her plaything would make you explode. She calmly, in a motherly tone, hushes you, commanding you to “let momma Porrim make you feel just right”. You continue to whisper in defiance, too scared to even move at this point. Tears well in your eyes as she nibbles at your neck, those nibbles soon turning into skin piercing bites. You feel the blood trickle down your neck, paralysing you with fear, causing you to seemingly forget how to breathe as your soulless, white eyes roll up into your head as the jadeblood suckled upon the spring of life water on the side of your neck.
Questions ran through your head. Am I going to die? Is she going to kill me? They ran through your head faster than you could answer them. Her hands... Her evil, dextile hands... Began to travel down your torso, groping at your meagre breasts with noticeable strength, a straggled moan emitting from you. You continue to mutter the words “no” and “stop”, but your pleads fall onto deaf, jadeblooded ears. Her hands continued to map your now shivering, sweaty body, moving the lower half of your body, her nails dragging behind with her fingers. You WANT to shut your legs, to deny your matesprit (Though, for not much longer.) access to your nether regions, but, you can’t bring yourself to do it. You’re paralysed with the fear of what she might do to you, should you try and stop her harassment of your body. After all, rainbow drinkers aren’t notorious for being peaceful and complicit.
Your breath stutters as you feel her hands explore your calves and thighs, your heart beginning to thump and thunder behind your ribs. You hate yourself. You feel so uncomfortable, nervous, scared, violated and you feel as if you’re slowly forgetting how to breathe. As your puppet madam snakes her hands closer to your danger zone, your basically untouched bulge begins to unsheathe, pitching a hardly discreet tent in your cerulean dress.
You scream at yourself in your head, begging your bulge to go back inside you, but, of course, the attempts flop and die in your conscience. No words come from the black, pierced lips of the jadeblood. Only a smirk. A smug, proud smirk as she hiked up your thighs, her nails barely scraping your nook’s soft, moist entrance. The sensation was shamefully amazing, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle your strangled, screaming moans, but to no success. In the crotch of your other half, a rather large tent was beginning to make itself present, much to her pleasure. She dragged her free hand up her dress, touching herself sparingly. She catches your look of fear at your crotch. “So eager, are we?” she breathed into your ear, her tongue lathering your blood leaking neck, the bleeding now, thankfully, subsiding. Sadly, the same cannot be said for your fear, or lack of consent.
Her self massaging hand pulled her dress over herself, her bulge coiling and uncoiling in the air. There’s no way, in your head, you could manage to go through this. You can’t take that... that thick muscle. Of course, that doesn’t even matter anymore, consent no longer apart of the equation at all. She quickly straddles you, holding your arms down, fully obliterating your feeble attempts of resistance. She forces her lips atop yours, her tongue slithering like a cobra into your mouth, standing proud and dominant atop your tongue. You try to turn your head, to break free of the blood addicted, tattooed, pierced rapist. Though your attempts are indeed valiant and strong willed, they don’t come close to breaking the jadeblood off of you. Quickly, unexpectedly, she thrusts herself inside you, sighing as she did.
The only thing you can do at this point is scream. Scream in pain, scream for help, scream for her to stop, all of them, sadly, unmoving to her. Tears are now rushing down your face, and you can feel bile rising in your throat. She slowly thrusts to a beat inside you, each thrust bringing more tears out from your eyes. At this point, in your current state of bleeding from two places, crying, and intense pain, you realize something: not only is she violating your body, she’s violating your mind. You’re never going to be the same, are you? You’re not going to trust anybody, and, as sure as the sky’s blue, you’re NEVER going to speak of this. You and her both discharge simultaneously, feeling her thick fluids shoot up inside of you. She plants a sick kiss on your cheek as she pulls herself out of you and cleaning herself off, looking as impeccable as ever. She’d smell as if she just had sex, but, that’s exactly the way she liked it. She elegantly rose to her feet, leaving you to your own devices. After all, she’s far too busy to help you clean yourself off. You begin to shake as you hug yourself, tears running down your face harder than ever before. You try to calm yourself, whispering that it was all over. But, the hard truth? It isn’t. And never will be.
The End.