We Couldn’t Find Any Honey, So We Tore Down The Moon (Witch)
Content Warnings:
Graphic depictions of consensual smut! They bite, the nibble, they pin and get muppled! Woops! Ethically harvested Free-range Ousia Feasting. Talk of past abuse and shaving bones and painful transition re-knitting! Considerations of past Suicide Ideation after the loss of an abusive loved one. Deeep bone pain that a character keeps flared up because she likes it!
Everything hurts worse than it ever did under Yselda’s knittings. She may have peeled back skin and shaved away at bone when she was feeling particularly voracious, but never did we tear even one out and replace it. Much less so many.
Before the end, she never went farther than I said I wanted. Never forced me to endure even a second of her attentions unless I agreed, and sometimes not unless I begged.
That’s… Why I had to start calling her ‘Old Cunt’ instead of her name. Despite her capricious nature, sour regard when ignored, and wretched cruelties toward Dolls… she really did love me in the only way that mattered, maybe even the only way she could.
She gave me a world where I was what I chose to be. Even if that choice was to be a truly cruel person. She was a manipulative bitch who knew exactly how to wind my little wounded heart all about her fingers, Knit me into her Floret and lay the pathways she knew I couldn’t resist walking, driving me to embrace the cruelties I had such weaknesses to indulge in. I’m not sure she actually changed me. Just set me free to be my worst self.
Even after what she did to me. What she tried to make me into… I still wanted her back. For over a decade I’ve been an empty shell waiting to die. Her end was mine, just… postponed as my heart and mind withered. I only really survived out of embittered guilt.
Everything Hurts as I grapple with that, the pain I refuse to numb cuts and sheers away all the lies I’ve built up over these past decades to keep such thoughts away.
Wanted.
Not WANT.
The pain of Verbess and Xafra’s workings shattered something in me. More than she ever did. Ever could. Her workings were a slow carving of my old shell away to reveal the wretch beneath it all. That’s what broke today.
I don’t want Yselda back. That was made very clear to me when in the pits of pain beyond thought or reason I… did not scream her name, did not moan it, wail it, nor even consider it. My thoughts were only for the gerl at my side and the Doll carving at our forms.
Everything HURTS as I giggle manically at the feeling of new bones screaming with fire and life and freedom all through me. {Alright, my Xafra, my love. Let’s see you fed beyond reason.}
Xafra's mesh of Ousia swells outwards, thinner than I've seen it, but precisely structured as it begins to spin, tendrils extending further to reap the Physis and Ousia of every plant and animal within their reach.
::Hunger/Feast::
It’s so easy to Bask in the sensations of my Xafra’s delight at this harvest. Literally feeling an odd… Well, I wouldn’t know what to call it honestly. A jealous ache? Huh. That’s… strange. Even with my Ousia senses quieted I can still feel… Something.
But I’m still pain-drunk at the moment. So, honestly I’m probably just… hallucinating a touch. This amount of bone-deep agony has a way of breaking perceptions. And I have no plans on adjusting that. Quite adore feeling these new foundations shift and creak within me.
So I begin to carry us forward and just… indulge in her enjoyment. Share my own weary pain infused nonsense back even. {Let’s try… two hundred paces out? All about the Estate save the jungles about Root Way itself. No reason to give the off-chance of visitors an easy view of your working. I don’t want to have a mistake of clumsiness bring a Thresher Cadre here again.}
With my suggestion comes a pleased murmuring over the bond, followed by a steady expanding of the whirling mesh, carefully avoiding the Root Way and Walls of the Estate, until it grows to thrice its size.
[Mmmhmhmhm. Heck. This is so good. Free-range ethically sourced Ousia... I mean. I think this counts as ethical. You said it just all grows back, right?]
{Yes, and far more quickly than is of any use.} I reply, {No one can settle anywhere besides the Groves or the larger Root Ways because of it. Which… would be something to balance if the jungle yielded anything worth eating. Half of it is toxic, the other half devoid of nutrients we can use without an insidious amount of preparation.}
Xafra continues feasting for a time as I carry her through the forest, both of us just… enjoying the shared muses through the bond as the jungle dies all around.
[Would you like a top up? With the new bones, I can get you to about double what I could previously without risking any damage to your cohesion.]
Was planning to wait until she’d gotten more but I… I can’t help it. My everything shivers with desire at her offering. Watching her feast so freely just… rousing this ache to unbearable levels. {Please. Yes. If… you’re not at low reserves.}
She immediately begins to divert half of the incoming Ousia to myself after harmonizing it with my own. [I'm nearly at the point where I could shift into my Warlord form, if that is desired. The other, as I mentioned... I'd prefer to avoid until I can fully rebuild, which will take a day or two of soaking in my ritual with much higher reserves.]
I reach out to steady myself against the closest dead tree as I feel years and years of lost life suddenly returned. Immediately it's like a rush of cool salt water over a spoiling wound. And over the course of a couple heartbeats I… It’s… more than even our former times. Her words about my bones holding more Ousia laid bare and true in how my everything begins to buzz and thrum in growing strength.
{Which would you prefer, my Xafra? I want nothing less than for you to feel comfort in the form you wear.} I purr softly, letting the rush she’s giving me flood the tether. {We have endless jungles, their sea worth of harvest, and above all… Time. But, yes. That was a form I did want to examine more closely, if you'd like that. You are a Näherin without compare and your weavings are always exquisite.}
With a mental chuckle, Xafra shifts in my grasp to her Warlord form, once again towering over me as she stretches out, but wearing the oddest of clothing, a stretchy short sleeve top with six arm holes and shorts of the same material that don't extend past her thighs.
Must be… twice my height? Not quite, I think, but close to it. And… six arms. Of course. Because why settle for two or four when more is better? And the Quills! Oh Cracked and Riven Moon are they even more of a sight looming over like that.
I consider gripping the bond tighter to free her from my mind’s nonsense but… why would I do that? Especially here and now when they could give her such wicked ideas? But… No. Not all at once. Not this messy and still pain drunk muddle. I am a Witch, and her chosen Mistress. So I shore up my focus and let what should be a tittering of sudden and distracting interest flow down.
“Well, isn’t this just… More impressive up close.” I manage to huff out through a crooked grin I can’t suppress. "Truly. More than I honestly caught the first time I witnessed it.
"Oh? I'm open to you taking a closer look if you'd enjoy doing so." She purrs then… pauses, seems to consider the bond. "Are you managing the pain alright? I would have expected most of it to fade already, or are you holding onto it on purpose?"
“Hm? Oh. Yes to both.” I reply while only half considering her words as I step about this gorgeous form. No, of course. I'm not managing it as well as I could but... Being agonizingly aware of My Xafra's gifted Ousia and Bones is just too wonderful a sensation to dull. “Love the way you’ve bound the muscles, I always read it was tricky to keep bones from snapping under the pressure these forms could exert. Do you cheat with your Physis tendrils? Or simply… reinforce the frame with exotic materials?”
"The bones are interwoven with tungsten for strength. It can be hard to come by unless you know where to look." Xafra glances back and down as she responds with a broad smile.
I trail a hand up her back, overmuch enjoying the rolling texture of her spine beneath this incredibly thin material. “Brilliant. And all so much more flexible than I’d have guessed.” Then I let more than a little dangerous aching hunger spill through the bond. “When was the last time you got to break something or… someone while in this shape?”
"Mmmmm. Too long. Eheheh.” She cackles and… Cracked and Riven Moon, is that such a delightful rolling laugh she has. “Would you like a hands-on demonstration?"
I dredge up old workings I’d never thought to weave again. A younger me would consider this wasteful but… I’m inspired and drunk on pain infected with ravenous hunger. I’m allowed to indulge a bit with the gerl who's given me my life back.
{Garrote} I giggle, and weave up a tapestry of my own versions of the spell. A mimicry of what we had today but… more versatile and only six to manage. Knit from about half the Ousia reserves Xafra’s been feeding me. Permanent, but only in the part that slivers down and plunges into my own soul. The tips of the other ends are frayed and can freely latch and unbind at my leisure.
“More than anything else.” I answer as the spell settles, each of my new little tethers hovering just outside Xafra’s core. An offering of every sensation she would inflict returned and magnified. “Other than the bones you gave me, everything else is… well, disposable. So... beyond that let's not allow any worries about fragility to stop us.”
“Very well.” My Xafra thrums, and with a deft speed that should be impossible for a frame of that size, she twists and envelopes my waist with her two middle hands while the others move to grip and tear away my clothes as others would move aside loose parchment.
My six extra tethers coil around and about her core just in time to catch and send her the raw delight, hunger and still slowly fracturing pain/pleasure of that. They do, however, communicate the rush that presses me forward to wrap my almost hilariously small fingers about her jaw to pull her lips to mine. Almost growling as I can only just barely get my ankles to her sides and pull us close.
Her four extra hands drift. Wandering and exploring flesh while I try to pull myself ever closer. These new aching bones within me seem to draw themselves to her core like enchanted iron sometimes does to stone of the same like. My own fingers and hips dragging me closer while her hands only seem to… to…
Way too softly dancing over my still tender flesh. Gentle, even.
She… is she teasing me?
Cracked and Riven Moon, what have I unleashed when it’s Xafra taking her time? And in this form!?! While I’m already set to moaning and growling at the start of this. Even for a heartbeat considered begging this gerl for her fury!
No. That will not do!
So, I fill myself with her warm breath, savoring the foreign taste and smells that brings. It steadies me into wrapping the soft explorations she seems to want about my pain drunk desires like soft silks. Thin and so easily torn and sliced away but still a barrier to the delights within. And of course I send her that image over the bond and new tethers. A tittering echo that lets this gerl know that if she wants to hear me rendered to pleading for her more ravenous attentions, she’ll have to offer interesting delicacies.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
And of course my Xafra rises to the challenge, moving even before I can process the vertigo and slamming me bodily into a nearby tree. Not hard enough to do anything but jolt a gasp from my lungs but… When someone her size decides to pin you between something and her barely contained lengths you can’t help but feel a thing or two come loose in need.
Rewarded with that chink in my defiance toward her playful teasings, she lets the claws come out next. Raking flesh and weaving little scratches while she begins to grind herself into me.
The heat rolling off her is so exquisite. A roiling need given form across her blazing warm body. I can’t help but chortle a bit in my own enjoyment before just… curling around to get a good angle on her neck and shoulder to bite down. Not hard enough to draw blood or real pain, she hasn’t earned that yet, but good enough to let her know she’s on the right path should she want more.
"Mmmmm. Alright." She purrs, then turns to toss me into the ground.
Oddly, the impact barely jolts me this time. The trick of sudden impact only works so well once, dear Xafra. But as I adjust to get my elbows beneath me she stops that with one massive foot upon my chest. Holding me still while she reaches up to pull her shirt off and away.
I smirk, letting eyes roll down from her own grin to enjoy the sight of that glorious chest, then back up to those glittering red-stone eyes.
“Oh? You’re wanting to get serious? Finally? Weeeell… Let’s test our new weaving then.” I purr while winding my Physis around the bond and tethers. Gently now, six tethers plus our core Bond is quite the upgrade from the little mess I knit before. Take this slow. Don't let your own addled mind be an excuse to overdo this again.
I give them the smallest of tugs. Deliberate enough that she should feel–
"Oh? We're weaving, are we?" Xafra growls down at me, and the resonance of her Tone sets those Quills to dancing. Filling air with such a thrumming tune.
And suddenly, dozens of hands are all about and pressing me down. Then they... they take to caressing and tweaking and scratching as Xafra lifts her foot and steps back. Eyes and grin and returning thrum from the core bond all awash with amusement as I writhe a bit beneath these wonderful workings.
Ff– fair plaaa– ay. I sh– should have expected th– this. H– honestly.
Takes me about… half a dozen heartbeats to unclench my teeth without making such an unsightly sound of delight drowned need. Only barely able to focus on gathering up the pleasure and balancing it with the pain I’ve set these new bones to pulse with as. Once done, I roll my gaze back down to regard the beautiful titan of a Gerl conducting my unmaking from a few paces away.
With how tender everything still is from the surgery… I would probably have lost this game right then since she caught me so unawares. Melted into nothing but a pleasure-drunk Witch at her feet. Already begging for what comes next instead of offering it. But... Not yet! She won't tear this request from me without a good spat of things!
I bury the undignified moan I’d love to make beneath a few deep breaths while working up the focus to reply as steadily as I can through her attentions. “Th– this is such a w- wonderful trick. Precise, delicate, even p- paced and brilliant! Buuuut…” I grin as I prepare to tug on the tether again, an action that would lash her with my own carefully festering mixture of pain, pleasure, and delighted hungers. Now bolstered by her own Quill's phantom workings across my body and poised like an obvious serpent ready to strike. “N- Not nearly enough. Not at all. Can you take as good as you can give? A Pharos? Like you claimed? Endure everything you'd inflict on me and then some extra?
"Yessssss.” Xafra purrs, a tendril of her own Physis winding up to gather her tether’s end. “I've been told by a pretty bird that I get to feast afterall, and there's no rush."
And before I understand her scheme, all these ravenous hands gather me up as she gently tugs the–
Hunger, amusement, delight, anticipation, and so much more flares and jolts through me as Xafra tugs our bonds in mimicry to my own actions. And… Well, if that had been all, it might have cracked the pain I’ve been letting roil. Dropped me into a mess of agonized sobs as old memories of another doing the same poisoned this victory we’ve claimed.
But… like the bindings to some old Tome, beneath it all is careful regard. Not quite worry but… watchfulness. Almost a promise in its own right. This gerl will stop the moment I’d ask, and only gentle love would await me then. No sour regard or cruel words at my need for relief from her ravenous attentions.
Feeling that, more than any word or action, sets my mind and heart to growling in furious desire. And as I realize I’ve been pulled to my knees before her, I can’t help but turn a wicked grin up toward my Xafra. “Is that so? I’ve heard that birds from these jungles have such sharp beaks. Best be careful. She does love to peck and bite.”
"Good to hear. You taught me something about the euphoria that pain can bring earlier.” Xafra crouches down in front of me, a comfortable but protective position as she reaches out with just one hand, the others resting on her knees. “May I show you the clarity it can offer as well?"
Even kneeling she looms overhead. Her words are… not what I expected. But…
“I’m enthralled.” I murmur. “Yes, Of course.”
And then down the bond flows… Hmm… Well, It takes a few heartbeats for my mess of thoughts to understand what I’m feeling. To recognise this gift for what it is.
But when I do I can’t help but gobble it up with almost reckless abandon. Basking these depths…
This is how Xafra ‘feels’ in this form. Incoming sensations are delivered via adrenaline rush that carries the information about precise amount of force, how much it reduces function in the region, the remaining integrity, the type and shape of the damage and so on. Endlessly complex but… easily deciphered on reflex by the Gerl’s brain stem.
And this isn’t for just damage or wounds, but EVERYTHING. A complete reknitting of the central nervous construct without dulling a single sensation, just… translates it all into a more efficient biology and communicating them in ways to encourage proper usage.
But like a whip-crack her old words roll through my mind.
How… how this masterful form was a thing born of loss. A vessel to let my Xafra reave and burn and destroy the world that took what was most dear to her. Wrapping what I’m realizing to be a person with such a capacity for empathy behind layers to heal as she sought furious vengeance.
A monument to the dead, and a promise to the cunt that made him so.
I take a deep and steadying breath. What a wonderfully haunting sight it must have been to the one that wounded her. To know that this is the form that death strides forth in. And… of course here I am wanting Xafra to fuck me silly with it.
I can’t help but huff out a pained laugh at that while mingling these gifted sensations with the brew I’m still letting simmer. “It's… Thank you. This is marvelous. Brilliant. Efficient. And… Above all else, Inspiring. There is so much here that I think I’ll… I'll...”
Why do the words get stuck in my throat? Even now?
"None of that now.” She murmurs with a bemused frown. Pulsing a soft soothing wave of healing over me.
“No. I… I’m fine just…” I shake my head almost grumpily, pushing aside the balm she would offer.
“We can do something to remember him later.” She offers, and presses the insistent balm of warmth and recovery a little harder. As one would any restorative to a stubborn lover. “If you'd like, I can teach you his favorite dice game which he was terrible at?”
I almost grumpily shove the healing back again. But… with a sigh let it pass. Allowing her will to soothe the aches I’d refused to let go of. So… so worried about losing this deep and furious comfort of feeling her workings settling within me.
“But here, with you looking so very delicious in front of me, I'd much rather focus on the present." She purrs, then pauses in consideration. "Should probably wait until after your resheathing before I start trying to get you pregnant, but that doesn't mean I can't practice in the meantime."
That causes me to sputter, and drop my final resistances against her offered aid. “Wh– Cracked and Riven… But… Xafra! Please be joking. Do not think to curse a child with me as their mother. DO NOT!”
"I don't think it would be a curse,” She counters with ease. “But don't worry, that will only happen after some long discussions and full agreement."
“Good.” I can only huff, taking a deep breath to steady myself and consider all the nonsense I must be literally dripping down the tether at this point. End up using her warm, bemused, and hungry regard to center myself. Gathering up the helpful titters of delight still fluttering about myself. Solidify them into the hungers I want desperately to return to.
When I turn back up to meet her gaze, Xafra pauses for a moment before leaning down to press lips to mine. Gentle at first but… Then our tongues are dancing and she’s so easily pushing mine to the side and shifting hers to shove deeper. Soon I’m writhing closer as the monstrous thing is fully gliding into and down my throat. My own fingers moving up to grip and pull at her gorgeously soft mane to drag her ever closer and deeper.
I’ve… absolutely no idea how those shorts contain her. Honestly. And it takes me about a dozen heartbeats to understand why she never just… ripped them away. What this odd little separation between unrealized hunger and ravenous indulgence means.
One of my hands drifts down to just barely touch the twinned lumps that strain against the cloth. Fingers gently teasing and caressing and raking nails overtop the pair. {You seem excited.} I purr through the bond since our mouths are still otherwise occupied. {Would you like me to attend to this? The cloth seems so very uncomfortable.}
[Mmmm, that would be wonderful.] She rumbles back..
With an easy snap of will and Physis I fully tear her final covering away. Allowing, from what I can feel with my fingers, two well endowed lengths to spring free. Can’t help but try and wrap a hand about one and give it a pleased little squeeze as I gift her my first little excited moan into this all-enveloping kiss.
With teasing slowness Xafra withdraws that wonderfully textured tongue back into her own mouth. Causing me to chase even the last nibbles of a kiss as she moves to pick me up once again. Upper hands gripping my own, lower cradling legs, and middle ones set to firmly grasp my waist once more.
"Well, my Witchling, how do you want me?" She murmurs gently, Quills and bonds positively thrumming in anticipation of my coming words. She has her own desires, to be sure. But I can feel just how much she honestly wants to know what my reply will be.
And… I can feel some old part of myself, already long dead of course, chip away at the answer I’ve already decided to give her.
“How did you put it? So deep inside me that you can barely feel the divide? More poetically put, of course, buuut…” I smirk with much more confidence than flutters within me. “The bones are wonderful and perfect, I’ll treasure them forever. But they are a practicality, not an indulgence. And if we tear or break something, well… I’ll simply need to trust my Näherin, my Seamstress, to help reknit them as she helps me figure out the rest of myself.”
I mix in the memory of her offers spoken while freeing me of those foreign objects, my past terror at her desires, and… and this final acceptance of them into a small and gentle surge down the bond. And here, as the old woods die about us to replenish both our soul’s fire, I ask her to help me remake myself through the Bond and Tethers. Not in secondhand aid or advice, but direct and intimate workings.
“Please.” I whisper softly, locking eyes as I finally let her hear me beg as this request of soul settles. “Xafra. MY Xafra. No Holding back. Please. Break me of these last shreds of doubt. Claim me, as you’ve let me claim you. Please!”
With a seriousness that looks out of place in such a situation, Xafra nods, clears her throat and speaks using the Voice of a Warlord. "Bone of my bone, you held my soul in your grasp as I held your heart in my hand, you drank of my wellspring as I have feasted on your flesh. By right of consent, right of mutual conquest, and right of fealty, I claim you as my Mate, my Mistress, my dearest Witchling, for as long as you will have me."
I can’t help but let out such gasp at… at that. As her Quills thrum and bond seems to quake under those words. Shaking loose any worries I had left about this gerl with a litany that seems to settle into my mind and heart and very Ousia in a way I’m not sure I could ever fully break free of. Nothing insidious but… binding. Always there to chime of my beloved’s claim to me.
Then a rolling giggle follows as her pitch returns to normal and My Xafra states, "I'm going to fuck you now."
Through a nod I can only just barely whisper. “Yes. Do that. Please.”
Purring with chest and Quills she holds me in place. Her phantom hands of Physis rub and tease at my pussy and ass, spreading my wetness and preparing me for her entry both front and back before steadily, insistently, pushing her way inside.
I attempt to stifle what becomes a deep and unsightly moan against her lips but… she holds me just far enough back to make my attempts futile. Rumbling with her own enjoyment at the sound I make as we both feel her press deep.
As the sound wanes, I feel my focus wrap about this wonderful mingling. Barely even needing to consider the pain as I’m impaled by her warmth, tasting dribbling blood as my fangs prick a lip and all while drowning in the smell of… home?
Wait. I don’t have fangs and nothing here smells like the Grove or my bedchambers or… OH! Some of these aren’t mine. That wonderful Warlord form's senses are overwhelming the bond a touch. I'm feeling Xafra’s fangs, and… my scent? Is that how I smell to her?
These realizations only make me writhe in dreadful longing for her to go deeper. Faster. Harder. Letting her know through a ravenous muddle down the bond that I long since learned how to make sure embraces like this can last as long as we want them too. Either through refreshing our reserves and hungers on the Riven forest around, or simply holding ourselves upon the edge of release. Whichever she prefers. Just so long as she doesn’t stop.
In answer she sinks her fangs into my neck, biting down and filling us both with the warm rush of flavor and pain. Then, Xafra starts to thrust in and out at that same steady pace as a humming starts in her throat. A melody that flows out to her Quills like my Doll taught her. An odd unfamiliar tune that nevertheless feels like... I should know it?
More moans and gasps laden with her name escape my lips as I fall into her, for her, as she presses deeper and deeper. The song wraps about me as my body envelopes her lengths. Easily letting me cast aside old needs to understand and categorize new things for… well... I’m not sure what this is.
What I’m doing.
I’ve never felt myself so effortlessly melt into another like this. Can’t help but ensoul and encircle myself with the tethers that thrum with that WONDERFUL song. It… it doesn’t drown my thoughts. Doesn’t smother old wills or desires. Simply… well, seems to harmonize with some good parts I might otherwise struggle to hold close. Helps my thoughts focus on this. On us.
Okay now I WANT to know what this litany means. Not in any precise sense, as art of its like is normally beyond such things, but instead the core that inspired it. I’m not sure if my plea to her for that is with lips or soul or… both? Not sure if it made sense. But I asked in a way I think she understands? Sharing how it weaves through my heart and thoughts as an example even.
She sends me a melange of images, quiet moments of happiness and hope from ages past, ancient dreams of what could be, and present thoughts of what glorious future could be woven from repurposed refuse.
And… Deeper still, I fall for and into this gerl. Who sees clearly the broken things and what they could become if only encouraged and enabled.
I’m a mess at that thought. Body and mind melting beneath the heat of her embrace, attentions and song. With every thrust, squeezing hand and bite I can’t help but let out moans and gasps and… well of course a few whimpers, I’m not embarrassed to say.
She enjoys that, growling deeper than I’ve ever heard as I feel her focus her everything on this. On me. On dragging us both into just this moment.
And when all bubbles over, she’s timed it all so well. The crescendo of her Quill-song crashing down as the climax of our bodies strikes true. The next few moments are simply nonsense titters of pleasure as I get to feel my Xafra pulse inside me in every way she can.
I… I’m vaguely aware of her cradling me close as she settles to rest at the base of a rotting tree as I slump into exhaustion. Humming a little tune of victory and satisfaction and… peace.
And at some point I must have dozed off because next thing I know I’m being led through the Driftdream by a chuckling Geist. I murmur little half-hearted things about being more than happy to rest in the grass at the edges of this place, just… so long as a part of her is there with me.
But before I can really muster up to the claim she’s laid me to rest in this Inn’s bed and curled about me. Whispering soft assurances that she can return us to the Estate after she’s consumed just a touch more Ousia from the nearby forests.