Chapter Text
The encounter in the woods was debilitating. Fabianne's mind raced through question after question. 'Did she even give me her name? Why was her smell so intoxicating? A test of Aultes, tempting me to fall to the Malfeasance? Why haven't I seen her in Envile before? Really, why, by the grace of Aultes did I do such- such acts with her!?'
She found herself forgetting verses, scolded on forgotten chores by the mother superior, and quite annoyingly picking at bits of fur on her skin absent-mindedly, until her rooming sisters complained about the small clumps of hair littering their floors. All this was accompanied by a series of heart-throbbing, somewhat painful, and expertly hidden erections. Normally, these events would have been easily pushed aside in thought, if it weren't for the dominating image of the exposed blue devil taking root in her mind.
It wasn't Fabianne's first experience , but it had definitely been the most physical and spontaneous. The blue devil ignored Fabianne's feeble preaching attempt, abruptly initiating a physical “confrontation.” Even among other kinds of alterfolk, most knew the orderly teachings of Lord Aultes were not to be taken lightly, especially when delivered from the lips of his more devout worshippers. This blue devil, on the other hand, paid the words of Aultes no mind, and that had reached deep into Fabianne's mind just as much as the raw friction between their bodies had.
‘My ancestry does no justice to who I might be… It seems it is I who is wringing sin from myself.’
The words had resonated in the catnun's head, and with them the memory of losing all inhibitions to lustful fornication . It had been embarrassing to lose sight of the countless hours of restraint she had put herself through, but the fact that it was a complete stranger… No, a devil stranger that had made her lose sight of Aultes' way made her feel so… confused.
Fabianne slept that evening wrapped in what seemed to be the most restrictive, uncomfortable blanket in the world. The fabric was a wall against the cool night air, the catnun’s own body heat cooking her like a furnace. Not only had holding off from relieving her sexual urges multiplied her nightly emissions, but simply having a layer of itchy cloth on her skin made Fabianne twist and roll in her cot, sweaty limbs trapped in every prickly fold. When she woke, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, she discovered that at some point in the night she managed to free her member from its nightgown prison and had sandwiched her turgid length in the itchy blanket roll so it would stop being so bothersome. The sisters she shared the dull cobblestone room with had, by Aultes' will, not noticed whatsoever. Within the hour after waking, Fabianne hastily dumped the sodden blanket and dressed for the day, taking extra care to tightly stuff her member into her undergarments. There was no stopping a bulge - at this point, the other sisters paid it no heed anyhow - but Fabianne thought practicing common decency would earn her Lord’s favour.
'If only this, this tool of mine were more easily hidden,' she thought, 'I'd at least have the chance of earning Abbess' favour.'
She resigned herself to a sigh, smoothing out the front of her habit, dreading another scolding from Abbess DeRoux. Yesterday's absent mindedness meant a punishment was in order, prescribed to drive off the "Intrusive, lecherous deviations" of The Malfeasance, as Abbess DeRoux had described Fabianne's distraction. Most, if not all slacking was blamed on the culprit of bodily sin, especially for Fabianne. Her package was a subject of much persecution from the mother superior, even when it was hidden and out of sight.
Though the scriptures of Aultes did not necessitate pure chastity, they decreed restraint and modesty, which for DeRoux meant a much less lenient approach to dimorphism amongst the alterfolk of the world.
The catnun sighed again, heels clicking against the rough stone of the abbey, suddenly transitioning into soft crunches on frosted soil as she exited the dormitory, hurrying to the Abbess' house through the cloister. It was another cold morning, a breeze ruffling the orange and gold dappled courtyard trees. Fabianne was thankful the chill was dampened by her furred skin, yet still more thankful to step into the warmth of the Abbess' building.
"Early again, Fabianne?" A droll voice sounded from further in the building.
"Your enthusiasm to gratify our Lord does surprise me, despite your obsessive earthly indulgences."
Fabianne stepped into the Abbess' study, a luridly coloured room filled with stinging incense smoke, scriptural novels with flaky parchments jutting every which way piled atop pleading desks. Visible chairs were equally consumed by text, rosary beads and crosses hung across their backs. A lone, crusty ottoman offered itself for guests, its seams frayed and leather cracked, but sturdy just the same.
DeRoux barely looked up from her desk, gesturing with one clawed, wrinkled hand to the lowly ottoman.
"Take a seat, Sister, and I shall be with you soon."
"Yes, Mother," Fabianne replied softly, as she eased herself onto the fragile seat.
Abbess DeRoux appeared more like a seductive witch than a spiritual master. Her wrinkled face was coated in patchy makeup, smoky eyes and tightly pursed, slim, burgundy lips threatening to plant themselves on any available surface. Nails polished to a burgundy sheen to match; short, round and attached to bony fingers. The woman's hands scratched at some paper with a pearlescent quill, bobbing and dipping so fast a miniature tornado of incense seemed to surround it.
'Good Aultes, this mustn't be some impossible list of repentance, can it? All from forgetting to clean some rooms and organize today's scriptures? Please, let it not be…'
Fabianne could only theorize as her superior scratched away, seconds stretching to minutes with each stroke. The tension just made Fabianne sweat in her seat, the poor ottoman feeling the beginning of a wet patch under her crotch, her member begging to be released as soon as it could, desperately wanting to escape its cloth prison as its owner did from this crone's room.
As if she knew - DeRoux stopped writing and looked up to meet the inferior sister's orange eyes with a piercing gold stare.
"Luckily for you, Fabianne, you've been requested by the Winchesters again ."
A sigh of relief from the catnun interrupted the Abbess, before she continued;
"Their unruly daughter still requires a proper study of the Aultesian code if she's to become any sort of fit for rule. It would also only do you well to enforce the code of discipline unto yourself in tandem with another. After half a year being her tutor I’ve expected more from you. And Lord Aultes knows it’s about time you finally rein yourself in after being here for two already."
DeRoux sneered at Fabianne, who had been unknowingly kneading her legs together for the past few minutes, her bulge growing more evident with each one that passed.
"Th-three years, Mother! And y-yes, you’re correct, restraining myself for the will of L-lord Aultes is all I wish for."
"Restraint and control , sister, restraint and control. You're to begin this afternoon and if all goes well with that child, I expect you to return soon after sundown. You remember where the required materials are, yes?"
Fabianne's legs slowed in their movements, but the desire to rub them together didn't fade one bit.
"Yes M-Mother Abbess. I-in the chapter house, the scripture for royals."
Her response was coated with eagerness to leave, and Abbess DeRoux gave no indication of acknowledgement.
She plucked the letter she had been writing off her desk, slowly rolling it and sliding the parchment into a small, metal tube. The abbess stood, leaning over her desk, and waved the case in front of Fabianne's nose.
"This letter, sister, is for the eyes of Count Winchester only . Do not toy with it as your Malfeasant ways entice you to, or it shall be both your heads tied to a pillory and whipped ‘till purple. Am I understood, Sister Fabianne? "
The pointed comment burst the bubble of arousal that had been brewing. DeRoux was an Aultesian worshipper through and through - to the point that punishing anything that even seemed Malfeasant was always her first option.
Fabianne sighed, taking the canister with a dainty grip, ears drooping.
"Yes, Mother DeRoux. I-I will pay penitence for my sinful thoughts, and follow the ways of Aultes against Malfeasantry."
"Good, sister. Then I shall see you this evening, and I expect only results this time. You are free until your work begins."
The Abbess waved a thin hand, turning to douse one censer and light another.
Fabianne trudged through the cold dirt to the chapel house, the chilly air and the weight of guilt from being aroused pushing her lust deeper into her gut.
'As Aultes would will it, so as not to be distracted in my mission.'
It felt right, to not have her mind filled with deviant thoughts. She could focus, retrieving the heavy satchel of decreed Aultesian teachings with ease, and not a single worry came to mind as she set off half an hour later to the town of Envile proper. Not any worry at all.
" It seems it is I who is wringing sin from myself."
As soon as she had cleared sight of the abbey Fabianne's brain instantly brought forth the blue devil again. Her unabashed nature, no notion of shame…
' Maybe, ' heels crunched on frosted leaves.
'Maybe no guilt, either, for the devil?'
The catnun stopped in her tracks, shaking her head and slapping her cheeks. Whap! Whap! Thwock!
"No, it's a Malfeasant thought, girl! Aultes damn you!"
Fabianne stood paralysed in the middle of the path, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Little clouds of steam puffed from her nostrils as she regained composure, before adjusting the weighty book satchel on her shoulders and determinedly marching on the worn path to Envile proper.
The extraneous town was only a few hours’ walk from the convent, and even with such a short distance the sight of Envile offered no solace for a weary Fabianne. It had long fallen out of its prime before Fabianne came to the convent, and while many residents still remained it was clear from the dilapidated houses and crumbling storefronts that the river port town was on its last legs. The few who noticed Fabianne this early chose to ignore her, the cold weather more important to worry about than a stray kitten. This lack of attention was welcoming after the morning’s scolding, and Fabianne wove her way through the sparse streets unhindered.
Winchester Keep, refined as it was, bore the creeping vines of neglect, foliage clambering up its walls threatening to tear the brickwork apart. Its shadow grew less intimidating every day, yet still Fabianne felt apprehension even as she was waved through its gates.
Pushing open one of the heavy oak doors, inviting, warm air welcomed Fabianne inside. Polished stone columns supported the airy hall’s ceiling, decorated with lines of silver. Dull stone walls were barely disguised by colourful curtains, tickling the tiled floor. Sparkling chandeliers lit the lobby, orange light dancing off more polished sconces and decorative urns. Fiery-red carpet led from the entrance to a large circular stairwell at the end of the lobby, with various branches headed to doors with mundane secrets Fabianne would likely never know. None of the deteriorating town was reflected in the Winchester Keep’s halls, save for a human man dressed in finery fidgeting at the foot of the stairway. Sweat slid from the tip of his thin nose onto the matted fox-fur collar around his neck, hands clutching a handkerchief so hard he'd torn holes in it.
Fabianne approached the mouselike man slowly, cautious not to startle him. He was completely preoccupied in his own thoughts, mumbling words too quickly for even Fabianne's acute ears to pick up.
"Count Winchester? A-are you alright?" She uttered.
The man shot to attention. "Sister Fabianne?" He called weakly. "Thank Aultes, you've come much sooner than I expected."
He stood, knees cracking audibly and he hobbled forward, sighing, "I thought there would be no chance to meet, truly. Irathea is so troublesome, it seems the more land we lose from the kingdom, the more decadent her requests have grown." The Count stopped, fishing another handkerchief from within his robes, coughing into it with a wet, hacking noise that sent Fabianne's hair standing on end. Count Winchester had clearly been suffering for some time, and the pressure of his daughter's wishes combined with the dying town was no favour to his health. The Count beckoned to Fabianne through his coughing, and she quickly stepped to his side, bending down to offer a shoulder for support. He leant against her tall frame, and Fabianne could feel the frailty under his finery.
"Sir Winchester, are you well? I-I can see that something ails you, would you like assistance from a herbalist, or, a prayer?"
"By Aultes, no, my wife and I will be off to Lord Saredan, I will be taken care of there." He managed to spit out. "We will reach a… settlement there, to save what little this town has left. But my daughter would have none of it." Count Winchester turned solemnly to Fabianne, moustache drooping with the weight of fear.
"I beg for you to impart Aultes' will on her, or I fear any man she may be married to will be cursed with her insufferable greed."
"A-are you sure, Sir Winchester? Irathea is hardly kind to-" Fabianne could hardly begin before another bout of guttural coughs took the Count to his knees.
"Please, entertain the thought for the day, Sister. I can't have her making an embarrassment of herself in front of people again, not while I am like this."
She slowly nodded, heaving Count Winchester back to the stairwell and setting him down.
"I'll be back with assistance Sir Winchester, and I-I'll do my best to help your daughter."
Winchester smiled, relief washing over his face.
"Thank the Lord, I fear without holding her back, she'd have torn this town apart. How could I have raised such a selfish child?"
He chuckled weakly, before tears welled in his eyes from another coughing fit.
"I-I'm sure it's not your f-fault, Sir Winchester."
"Bah, it's mine alone. Her mother tries. We are simply not enough anymore."
Half an hour later, Winchester Keep's master and his entourage were on route to Lord Saredan, hoping for a positive outcome of the dismal town, and Fabianne was given a room for her stay.
It was somewhat bare, but it had a bed, desk, and its own firepit, which was more a luxury than could be stated. There was nothing more to be wanted from it.
The keep servants had informed Fabianne that the lady Winchester was currently indisposed, evidently in some important fashion as she hadn’t appeared to wave goodbye to her parents. The news was a welcome respite, and Fabianne couldn't wait to remove the weight on her back and relax before getting to work. Crickets jumped in her stomach as she emptied the contents of her satchel onto the bed, happy to be alone.
A few heavy history books, a miniature chalkboard, the pointing rod that stuck into her shoulders far too often, and various writing implements soon filled the desk, the satchel unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. Irathea was a handful normally, a ball of selfish rudeness, and Fabianne couldn’t carry both her and the educational junk at the same time. She had heard other nuns complain about Irathea being unteachable over the years, yet when Fabianne stepped forth a few months ago the notorious Winchester girl finally seemed to give some leeway to the teachings of Aultes. Fabianne wasn't even sure what about her made Irathea barely more compliant with her than the keep servants.
‘Maybe she can feel Aultes’ will through me? Maybe, she might respect me, in her own form…’ She wondered, the bulge in her dress slowly unfurling. 'Me, respected by a noblewoman! Wouldn't that surprise the Abbess!’ Fabianne stood proudly in her conclusion, and a twinge of pain forced her attention downwards, as her semi-engorged member pushed out sideways in her tight dress.
Fabianne's face flushed red as she yelped. "EEEAAAHH!! Oh gosh, darned, thing! " It was one thing for Fabianne to willingly work out sexual tension, following the tenet of moderation. It was another for her desires to rouse her before being ready to take them on. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and calmly reached into her dress to adjust the obvious angle it stuck out at. As soon as her fingers made contact, it felt like a jolt of energy had been sent through her. “Ouh! P-please allow me this momentary s-sin..” She wrapped her hands around the shaft, feeling it pulse and grow in warmth. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, and she tugged it into an upwards position, sending a wave of tickling sensations up her abdomen and down the head of her cock. Fabianne shuddered from the pleasure, mewling softly. Stickiness coated her fingers, and as she withdrew her hand from within her dress the salty aroma of her excitement gently filled her nostrils. Her eyes fluttered open, woozily lifting her hand to her face, a hint of pink beginning to poke out of her lips for a taste.
Fabianne flopped onto the bed as she lost herself in cleaning her paw, long tongue reaching between each finger to lap at her own essence. She wrestled with her own hand, tongue wrapped around two fingers as if they were another’s. Heartbeats pounded in her head at the taste, and an image of piercing eyes, long horns, and blue skin raced into Fabianne’s head. Fabianne’s eyes rolled into their sockets, groaning into her hand as she remembered the sensation of the tiefling’s kiss, tongues tugging at the other’s. Her hips bucked to grind at an imaginary tiefling’s body, a sticky patch growing on her abdomen as her cock leaked in excitement.
A loud metallic thud shattered the ecstasy. Fabianne pulled her fingers out with an audible ‘Pop!’ , shooting to sit up straight, eyes snapping to the door.
“O-one moment, p-please!” She stammered, and then realized the noise was far too sharp to be a knock. She waited for the noise again, wincing at the pain of neglecting her womanhood again today. Nothing made a sound, the catnun’s sensitive ears only picking up gusts of wind outside the window.
“What.. a-am I doing?” Only a few moments out of pleasure and embarrassment descended. “Moderation, restraint… do not let Aultes guide you in vain.” Even with the words of encouragement, the pain of her erection did not fade, nor did her wet hand suddenly turn dry. Fabianne rocked back and forth on her knees, hoping the motion would relieve some of the tension in her loins, but it only made her heart sink lower as her thoughts lingered on the blue devil once again. Frustration boiled up from the pit her heart had dipped into. ‘How could she make me feel so lustful? Devil magic! Surely!’
Fabianne glanced around the room, tearing her attention away from sexual agony. A glinting light that should have been obvious sooner caught her by surprise, as a small metal tube had appeared on the floor. Picking it up, the weight and look were quickly familiar. In her self-pleasure, Fabianne had disturbed the satchel thrown on the bed, which in turn decided to reveal its forgotten contents as payback for being so gracefully ignored. Fabianne’s heart dropped further into the pit.
“Fuck .”
She diverted to preparing the lessons of the day quickly after the realisation of her failure. With Count Winchester gone, only the worst could be expected of his daughter’s behaviour. She had to be ready to squabble with Irathea Winchester over Aultesian methodology instead of wrestling with her misbehaving womanhood. It went without mention that doing a good job there could at least make up for forgetting the important task DeRoux entrusted her with. At least a little bit. The tiniest of reprieves, Fabianne hoped. Maybe it would even be enough to give Irathea the letter, to hand over to her father.
No, none of that was good enough. Fabianne had failed her simple task, and caught between helping the Count leave and her disgraceful sin, there would be no forgiveness from the Abbess. To make matters worse, her cock was still painfully hard. The shock of messing up so terribly made it shrink some, though not enough to dismiss her member... or wave off the arousing thoughts of the blue tiefling. The tiefling who had freed Fabianne from control; a devil whose only trick now seemed to be the unrelenting memory of herself and the pleasure she’d brought.
‘Why had she been so enticing? Breaking my barriers so easily?’ Fabianne shook her head, bending over her desk and marking a passage about the second journey of an Aultesian prophet. It was almost noon, and very soon there was finally a knock at the door. A barrage, truly, for the servant who came rapped their knuckles on the wood so quickly it reminded Fabianne of repeating guns she’d seen once in a celebration many years ago.
She opened the door a crack, hiding halfway behind it. The overpowering scent of lavender greeted her, accompanied by a crotchety-looking servant with baggy eyes and stringy hair, hat flopped over the side of his head. “Hello? Is the Lady Winchester r-ready for her lessons today?”
“Yessum, Sister. She is very much awake - and quite disapproving again today, Sister.” the servant mumbled. He looked incredibly downtrodden and sad, looking closer Fabianne could see he was dripping wet from his head to his waist.
“It would be quite good, Sister Fabianne, if the lessons could begin post-haste.” A spiteful look crossed his face, and he sneezed into the crook of his elbow. “The Count has left us with many errands. We cannot attend to them all, if also we must attend to the Lady.”
Fabianne gulped. “T-then please take me to her chambers, I have e-everything prepared for the Lady.” She grabbed the prepared materials - one of the heavy tomes, the chalkboard, the pointing rod (which was mostly so she could stay as far from Irathea as possible, in case something was thrown her way), and loose parchment.
“Yessum, Sister Fabianne, this way as always.” The servant grumbled, and led Fabianne back to the main hall’s spiral staircase, ascending two floors and down a board-floored hall to the bedroom of Irathea Winchester. The servant bowed with his job done, hat dripping profusely, and stormed off muttering about a waste of expensive soap.
Irathea’s door was elegant, birch with polished iron inlays which twisted into a nameplate etched with the young lady of Envile’s full title.
Lady Irathea Morolese Winchester.
The catnun tentatively knocked on the door. Instantly, a shrill, annoyed voice responded.
“ENTER, AND DON’T WASTE MY TIME ABOUT IT!”
Stepping inside, Fabianne was transported to near blindness. Marble walls fought against the rest of the keep’s grey stonework; her boots clacked atop the bleached pinewood floor. White curtains fluttered in a half-open window, a silver chandelier bouncing daylight across ivory chairs, lazily decorated with lacy undergarments and bedsheets. A massive four-post bed painted in shiny white lacquer and gold trim occupied the majority of the room, the rest hosting two bone-white dressers that nearly reached the ceiling, a wide desk inlaid with a mirror, and the fussing shape of Count Winchester’s daughter.
She was short, reaching Fabianne’s waist only. Two large, brown, ridged horns were separated by pale locks of short hair, growing horizontally out until curving up and outwards. Although the horns implied relation to demons, the lack of a tail and her diminutive stature marked Irathea as a Ramling. She was half-dressed, seated on yet another ivory stool, her pudgy, thick rear spilling over the sides of the seat, white lace panty disappearing between the shining milky skin of her backside. The top of her was dressed at least, in a transparent nightgown that displayed her back musculature and the back of her massive chest, which lay on her fat thighs while sitting. Having seen her before, Irathea’s body wasn’t a surprise for Fabianne. On the contrary, the sight was worthy of relishing, and Fabianne’s body burned with the recognition that this alluring look was absolutely sinful .
“HURRY UP AND CLOSE THAT DOOR, WHOEVER YOU ARE!” The carnal shape yelled, Fabianne scrambling to shut the doorway.
“A-apologies, Lady Winchester! I-I’ve been informed that it’s time for your lessons on-”
Irathea whipped around sneering, her arm-wide chest violently threatening to jostle out of the transparent nightie. Fabianne’s eyes nearly went as wide as Irathea’s areola, eyes quickly shutting as she went into a bow to hide her surging engorgement.
“UGH! You, of-bloody-course. Lessons! Ha! Do your best, Aultes-bitch. I want to get a new suit fitted today. There’s no time for this garbage education.” The words hardly stung, especially not with Fabianne’s pride threatened by a different aspect of her existence.
“I understand, Lady Winchester, b-but I’m afraid your father has left me in charge of you for the day. We can fit your suit after the first lesson, Milady.” Fabianne cracked an eye open, focusing on Irathea’s face for her response. Thin eyebrows, burning brown eyes, a small nose and tightly pursed lips stared back. Thankfully, Irathea didn’t seem too annoyed at this proposition, just from her expression. The lady huffed, “I’ve WASTED enough time today on a disgusting lavender bath, Sister. Make your lesson quick, or I’ll tear that disgusting habit from your head.”
She turned back around on her stool, fiddling with an earring. “Did my Father tell you not to embarrass me? I’m ashamed to have an Aultes-bitch at my side all day. It’s embarrassing enough.”
Fabianne hesitated a second, then, “Y-yes Lady Winchester. He requested there be no embarrassment to the family name were you to go out.” She opened her eyes again, but kept her gaze locked towards the ceiling. Irathea’s plump rear was pushing out as the lady leaned into her mirror; drool leaked from the corners of Fabianne’s lips.
“Fine, Sister . Leave me while I dress. Then your lesson , and I continue my day.”
“As you wish, Milady.” Fabianne turned about-face, hurriedly exiting Irathea’s chamber into the hallway. The second the door was shut behind her, she doubled over and groaned hard , rumbling up from the bottom of her throat. Lady Winchester had to be unaware of the effect her body had on others, the sight of her smooth ass and wobbly, soft chest causing Fabianne’s cock to yearn for release. It had grown further upwards, hardening with each glimpse, until her glans wormed its way between Fabianne’s own breasts, leaking warm precum onto her dress. Her chest burned with lust, Irathea’s voluptuous body fresh stimulation for her restrained mind; heavy drums beat in her ears, nearly deafening Fabianne to the guttural noises she made.
“BE QUIET AND DON’T COMPLAIN, AULTES-BITCH! ” came a cry from Irathea’s room, an embarrassing pulse vibrating into the catnun as her pole grew stiffer at the lady’s voice. She couldn’t even respond, stumbling away from the elegant door; each step jostled her chest lightly and rubbed against her sensitive, half-sheathed helmet, precum spitting from her urethra. Her monstrously long cock was fully hard, 60 centimetres of feline dick begging for Fabianne to stroke, massage, knead, and release . Her testicles felt like two coals alive in her undergarments, melting her thighs with streaks of steaming sweat.
Barely holding onto her supplies, Fabianne managed to turn a corner, draped in shadow and silence. Low thuds and clattering pens broke the loneliness of the hall as she collapsed onto all fours, tail whipping with a mind of its own. The throbbing pole threatened to tear a hole in Fabianne's dress, as she struggled to stay lucid against a lust-induced unconsciousness to pull down her underclothes. Dropping them below her thighs, two heavy, fist-sized orbs swung down from her crotch, dripping with sweat. Their heavy, pheromone-laden scent sent Fabianne cross-eyed as it assaulted her nose, tongue lolling out instinctively to savour her own musk. With a weak hand she lifted the front of her dress, tugging it upwards to free her turgid beast. The scratching of the rough fabric showered her in shivers of pleasure, spurting more precum between her sticky breasts. Fabianne bit her tongue and groaned into it, grasping the base of her shaft and slowly, carefully pulling downwards. In a few agonising seconds her dick flopped out, happily staining the floorboards with clear, thick nut-juice. Cool air tortured her burning cock, tickling its boiling surface with tiny icy fingers.
The tactile sensations, the voluptuous noble daughter, the sexually haunting demonkin; it was too much for a weakened Fabianne. She shut her eyes with a whisper, "Aultes, please…" and ran her hand frantically over half her length, slamming her fist back down to the base. Following each motion came a loud, wet shlack , her swollen nuts pendulously swinging and smacking into her sweat-drenched thighs. Shlack. Shlack. Shlack, shlack, schlackshlackshlackshlack. Her pace quickened, eyes screwed shut and tongue nearly bleeding from being bit so hard. She pushed her hips down, scraping the head of her cock against the floor, and a frigid shockwave rippled down her length, glans popping out of her foreskin; fat ballsack tensing with bulging veins. Ropes of transparent cum shot from Fabianne’s distended urethra with audible plops onto the floorboards, fist pumping madly up and down her shaft...
And then Irathea’s door exploded open.
The relative quiet was shattered by a shrill voice. “WHO is making a FUCKING RACKET outside MY ROOM!?”
Dense globs of cowper’s fluid splattered across the floor, Fabianne’s testicles drawing up tight to her taint from the shock, begging to lighten the load brewing inside since the morning. Fabianne trembled on her hands and knees at the sound of her charge’s voice; sweat on her furred skin dripped down her body while her mind raced in a panic.
‘ I-I’m finished if she catches me like this! Abbess will whip my knuckles, lock me in a cell, I’m done! Lord Aultes, please spare me damnation! I’m sorry for my body being so wicked, so led astray into excess!’
Fabianne’s chest tightened, waiting for the moment Irathea would turn the corner, see her prostrated on the ground half exposed, thing dangling beneath her legs, and become a disgraced outcast of the convent. It would come at any second, any hour-length second, drawing out her shameful pleasuring.
Time stretched.
A metallic click sounded, nothing followed.
Time continued to stretch.
Her ears flicked back and forth waiting for more sounds, a haughty breath, a shocked gasp, anything. None. Fabianne dared to look behind her, a peek over the shoulder- to see no one standing behind her, only the emptiness of the hallway.
Her pulse had slowed, and her lust had diminished. Good Aultes had allowed her a moment to ease the tension in her loins, enough to focus. Standing up shakily, Fabianne looked down, greeted by a blurry vision of a large stain on the front of her clothes and a glossy puddle of sweat and fluids soaking into the floorboards. Her length was softening, every heartbeat bouncing it upwards even as it returned to a more manageable size. A weird, tacky sensation lingered between her legs, which on inspection turned out to be her sweat-drenched ballsack. Despite taking them off for safety, her panties were drenched and ruined.
‘ Aultes stopped my overindulgence. My Malfeasant nature.’
Whether or not Fabianne’s god really had caused Irathea to interrupt her masturbation, she had nevertheless been saved for the moment. She blinked a few times, realising that she had been tearing up for the past few minutes. Sniffling and wiping her face, the catnun adjusted her dress and tucked her package, kneeling to pick up her scattered pens and papers in the sobering silence of the hallway.
While she hadn’t been caught plastering the floorboards, cleaning herself up caused Fabianne to be late for the first lesson of the day. So, they brought the lesson with them, clattering down the sparsely populated streets in a carriage; Fabianne mechanically read aloud seventeen different dress codes while Irathea protested her fashion alone would be enough regardless of the occasion. The lady Winchester mocked the lacklustre fashion of her town’s populace, many of whom wore plain and simple dresses and tunics. Fabianne attempted to dissuade her gilded view with verses of Aultesian minimalist scripture, until Irathea threatened to throw her out of the carriage if she didn’t shut up.
After a few hours, they returned to the keep. Irathea practically danced into the main hall, proudly showing off her brand-new outfit. It was just shy of ebony white, golden leaf patterns woven into the lining. The accessories were a pair of smooth, heeled boots that did little to increase the girl’s height, and a ruff around the neck. What little patterning existed on the outfit was quilted padding on Irathea’s ample chest, studded with gold, and the look was completed by whatever jewellery Irathea could cram onto her stubby fingers. The keep servants clapped half-heartedly, whispering comments such as “So radiant,” “Very reflective,” and “Simply elegant milady,” just loudly enough for Irathea to hear.
Irathea basked in their attention, paying no heed to Fabianne, who strode in behind her straight-backed and blank-faced. Even the servants seemed to keep their eyes off the catnun, focused instead on pleasing the lady of the keep.
“We’ve spent enough time today on Malfeasant indulgences, Lady Winchester.” Fabianne suddenly said in a low, husky tone. “I am a-afraid I must insist on giving you a proper lesson now, you must be made aware of this path to sin.”
The servants’ whispers ceased, and Irathea whipped around with a snarl.
“Aultes- bitch . What’s your deal with getting in my fuckin’ way? Do you really think after all this time I care about what dear daddy said, especially when he’s not here to watch over my shoulder?” She spat.
“No, Milady,” Fabianne hissed back, “Your lessons are for the betterment of yourself , n-not the enrichment of your father. T-though I wish not to be lax on his word, either, I do this for you. ”
Irathea cackled. “Betterment of myself!? Sister Fabianne, I’m already the best in this bloody town, and there’s nothing your petty faith has to teach me.”
Fabianne’s heart tightened in fear again, face flushing. She opened her mouth to protest, but Irathea held up a small gold-encrusted hand.
“But… Doing this for me, that’s fuckin’ delightful.” She cackled again, a cruel smile crawling onto her face. “Come, Aultes-bitch, entertain me.”
Weight dropped from Fabianne’s chest, life returning to her being.
‘If she respects me enough for this, then surely she can respect me more!’ she thought, before responding raspily,
“As y-you wish, Milady. Aultes’ ways will be more than entertaining, I’m sure.”
Fabianne revisited her room to retrieve what she'd need, determination racing in her veins. Scooping up the miniature chalkboard and pointing stick, she brandished them as if they were sword and shield. In another fluid motion she picked one of the books, a heavy volume titled "Malfeasant Deceptions." She cast a sombre glance around the room, eyes lingering on the small metal tube she'd forgotten to deliver. She took a deep breath, face burning as her eyes rested on the tube, and unwittingly inhaled the lingering scent of her earlier 'activities.' Fabianne's pulse quickened and her loins stirred, but she turned and shut the door before the scent could fill her lungs completely.
'Not now, not now…'
Irathea was waiting in her father's study, sat upon his desk cross-legged and gazing at her rings. Compared to the rest of the keep, Count Winchester's study reflected the simple life of Envile’s citizens; the chairs and tables were plain and unsophisticated save for the paw-footed cherrywood desk Irathea sat upon. The room was boring, but more importantly private enough for Fabianne’s lesson to be uninterrupted.
The door clicked and the catnun entered, confidently carrying her volume and chalkboard in one hand and swinging the pointer in the other.
“Now, Lady Winchester,” she said curtly, “We shan’t waste a minute. This scripture, milady, details the many ways one can fall to the Malfeasance. You must know them, and be aware of them, so you can avoid them.”
Fabianne dropped the volume on the desk next to Irathea, waiting for a response.
Irathea lazily looked at the book, slowly up at Fabianne, and down at the book again, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you expect me to read this whole thing? That’s not entertaining.”
Fabianne sighed. “No, Lady Winchester, I will be g-guiding your reading. Anything you don’t understand I will write h-here.” She raised the chalkboard weakly.
Irathea puffed, hopped off the desk and pulled up a chair.
“Fine, Sister . Let’s get this over with.”
A curl of happiness twisted the edges of Fabianne’s lips, and she swiftly flipped open to a chapter midway through the book, 'Nobility’s Mission.'
"We sh-shall start here!" she said joyfully, whacking the end of the pointer onto the pages.
Blue evening light drifted from the window when Irathea leaned onto the cherry desk, resting her chin on her hand and puffing out her cheeks. Fabianne was midway through sketching a diagram of the paths to Malfeasantry, focusing on the “Indulgence” branch; they had already gone through the more positive aspects of “Abstinence,” “Restraint,” and “Lenience.” The subject itself seemed somewhat interesting to Irathea, if only to get people out of her way in the future, but Fabianne’s method of education left much to be desired.
“Hey, Sister ,” Irathea suddenly said, “What’s the damned point of having noble blood, if this stupid Aultes demands that everything’s in black’n’white?”
“It isn’t, Milady,” Fabianne responded, without turning around. “Those of noble blood are the people’s bridge between Lenience and Indulgence. Without the order of nobility there would be, well.” She turned and shrugged. “Malfeasance.”
"Yeah, and? You keep yapping about this Mal-fiz-biz like it's gonna kill you." Irathea replied.
"Well, Milady, we are getting there, but the basis-"
"FUCK the basic crap!" Irathea cut her off, jumping out of her seat. "Tell me the scary shit! You said this would be entertaining. Fucking scrabbling on a chalkboard isn't fun for me, Sister ." She paced around the room, running her stocky fingers over the plain furniture, stopping in front of the desk and glaring up at Fabianne.
Fabianne inhaled deeply, trying to maintain her composure.
"The Malfeasance, Milady, is the disobedience of order. W-we would not have the noble ranks if not for the order of Aultes. That should be sc-scary in itself."
" And? I’m not gonna be scared of something just because I don’t ‘follow the rules.’ Have you ever seen this Malfa-thing actually do anything, or does the church just make it up ?” Irathea sneered.
Fabianne trembled, her confident facade quickly worn away by Irathea’s attacks on her faith. She hung her head, flexing the rod back and forth in her hands, ready to give up - when she remembered, she had encountered the Malfeasance before.
“Actually, Miss Irathea, I have encountered a M-Malfeasant presence. Most recently.”
Irathea rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, sure. Just another part of your stupid ‘lesson,’ right?”
“M-Miss Irathea, I truly h-have! A real d-demon of temptation appeared before me only yesterday, it is the truth!”
Irathea paused, curiosity drawing across her face, followed by a wicked smile.
“Well, get on with it! First time you’ve brought up something interesting, and if you’re lying, I’m gonna use your dumb stick here to beat your Aultes-worshipping arse out of my keep.” She snatched the pointing rod out of Fabianne’s hands, twirling it like a cane, and looked at the poor catnun with fiery eyes.
Fabianne lifted her chin, closed her eyes, and recalled the meeting with a Malfeasant presence. After trying to keep it out of her mind, the experience rushed forth clear as if it had just occurred.
“It was… a w-woman-creature with sky coloured skin, tall, hooked horns unlike any animal. Gold marks banded her skin and circled her thick lizard’s tail. Sh-she displayed that unkempt physique for all to see, her chest uncovered and that..!”
Fabianne paused, but felt a tap on her chin and opened her eyes. Irathea was still staring at her, thrusting the pointing rod into her face like a blade. Fabianne swallowed, and continued.
“H-her loins, were that of a man’s, but bestial, not unlike a h-horse…”
Throb.
“The hair of her underarms and g-groin were overgr-grown and messy…”
Throb.
“Lastly, the d-demon’s unblinking eyes were… massive, wide, clear, like mirrors…”
Throb.
Her throat had tightened with her heartbeat, remembering how she had stared into the devil-child’s eyes before their lips met. Fabianne forgot her surroundings, Irathea, the tension of praying to Aultes for forgiveness as she remembered the very moment she let lust take complete control.
“...Her lips…” She whispered, clutching at her chest as her heart pounded. Unfortunately, her lapse of reason was currently in the presence of someone scrutinising every behaviour.
“HER LIPS!? BESTIAL LOINS!? What the FUCK are you talking about, Aultes-BITCH!?”
Irathea’s shrill voice brought Fabianne back to reality and awareness of her quickly growing issue . Evidently, her body remembered as much about that morning as Fabianne did, and wasn’t afraid of displaying it.
‘No, No! If Milady sees, I’m-’
Irathea’s yelling overwhelmed Fabianne’s thoughts.
“Demon of temptation? What interest would a woman with a cock have for you, Aultes-bitch?! You’re some fucking hussie , that’s what you are!”
“N-no, I’m - she really appeared, and coaxed me to s-sin, Milady!”
“Yeah? I’ll say, you freakish woman! Seems you liked it, despite your stupid virtues! "
Fabianne looked down as Irathea poked her again, and terror gripped her as a large bulge tented her dress. She shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to forget the thoughts of the blue demon. The meeting was a Malfeasant deception, and she knew it had been wrong. Yet it had felt too good to be unrestrained and lose herself to it. Instead of fading from memory, the images only intensified behind the darkness of her eyelids.
Irathea grabbed Fabianne’s wrist, twisting it as she yanked the taller girl down to her level. Fabianne stumbled forwards, stifling a yelp as pain laced her arm; the bulge in her dress bobbed with the force of the motion.
“No wonder this demon of yours had a dick! You’re just like it, ha!”
Irathea prodded Fabianne’s bulge with the pointing rod, a mix of disgust and amusement washing over her face as the front of Fabianne’s dress grew dark and damp.
“How dare you spend all day trying to lecture me, when you’re going around like this! I can’t believe you wanted to teach me something. You’re the one that needs to be reminded who’s in charge here. Lift that miserable rag of yours.”
Fabianne shivered as the words pierced her ears. It was her job, her duty to Aultes, to educate those who did not know better - but Irathea was right. There was no way she could truly teach others when her own body lacked discipline. Maybe, then, this was Aultes’ path for her? She wordlessly lifted her dress, pulling out her stiff, sticky member. A knot welled inside her gut, but she ignored it, waiting for her next order. Irathea prodded it with the pointing rod, watching as clear strings stretched between them. Her grip on Fabianne’s wrist tightened.
“Ugh. Why did I ever let you keep walking in here, with this… thing .”
She pushed Fabianne’s dick slowly away from her with the rod.
“After the other Aultes-bitches failed, you were the only one I let come back. A year, I let you do it! Did you think you were doing that well, huh?”
Fabianne only whimpered in reply, and Irathea yanked her arm down again in turn.
“ Answer me, wench! What the fuck went through that kitten skull of yours?” Irathea demanded.
“I-I th-thought you... respected... m-my teaching…” Fabianne stammered back. Her captor let out a snort, drawing back the pointing rod and poking Fabianne’s swollen glans with it. Precum dribbled out of her urethra, silently pooling onto the floor.
“Ha! All you Aultes-bitches think you’re so high and mighty. You’re so bloody pitiful , Sister. That’s the only reason I let you try! Watching you squirm is fucking delightful! ”
A strange, piercing sensation made Fabianne gasp out loud, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as Irathea pushed the tip of the pointing rod into Fabianne’s urethra, twisting it into the lubed slit. Fabianne’s knees buckled, hunching over as Irathea drove the rod deeper into her shaft.
“This fucking prick of yours, it’s disgusting! You don’t even need this dumbass stick when one’s attached to your goddamn crotch, wench!”
The rod reached further into her urethra by Irathea’s hand, and electricity ran up Fabianne’s sides as it slid against the soft walls of her shaft. A pressure was being built at the base of her cock with every centimetre the rod gained, pushing against the knot in her stomach. Irathea was going to push all the way to that knot, and if she reached it… Fabianne wasn’t sure what that would mean. Just that the knot in her gut only grew as the rod penetrated her cock. She wanted to rip away from Irathea’s grasp and run, but the ramling’s stubby fingers belied the girl’s strength.
“You charlatan whore! Look at this fucking muck, and more just spills out!” Irathea drove the rod down, pressing against the spot that Fabianne was squeezing shut. Her brows knit together in frustration, and she drew the stick out again before ramming it home. Pain shot down through the sensitive flesh, and the veins of Fabianne’s cock pulsed visibly with anger at the offense.
“Aah! P-please.. stop! That.. that hurts..!” whimpered Fabianne, sweat dripping off her brow. Irathea ignored her, cruelly stabbing the catnun’s cockhole instead. Fabianne could hardly breathe as the tip of the pointing rod battered her urethral walls, twisting and scraping against them. She was nearing her limit. Her testicles tensed up, begging for release after going without since the morning.
“P-please, Milady... I’m..!”
Irathea’s grip tightened further and she bent the rod more, pressing against the sensitive walls.
“SHUT UP! I’M the one teaching YOU a fucking lesson here! You bewitched, faithless bitch, THIS is what I think of your ‘demon!’”
Fabianne’s heart shrank as her testicles pulsed, firing hot, white sperm through her battered dickhole and around the pointing rod, pushing against it. Streaks of cum spat out onto Irathea’s jewel-encrusted hand, polishing the gems with a coat of thick white spunk. Fabianne’s legs gave out and she fell to her knees, cock sliding free of the pointing rod with a loud, wet pop. With the passage finally open, thick globs of cum were spat out of her abused urethra onto the floor and Irathea’s clean, white boots.
The ramling stepped back from Fabianne’s twitching body, stepping around the growing pool of semen on the floor and tossing the pointing rod down. She held her cum stained hand away from her face and flicked it onto Fabianne.
“Eugh.”
It landed with a quiet splat on Fabianne’s listless face. Her dick continued to leak cum with painful twitches, pushing the last vestiges of her fertile load onto the stone floor and into the pool. She was completely and utterly spent, barely aware of her charge inspecting her.
“Absolutely abominable,” Irathea muttered to herself while taking in the stunned nun’s dumb, lifeless expression. She stepped over her body, wiping her boots on the back of Fabianne’s habit.
“You’ll be damn lucky if this filthy gunk of yours doesn’t stain my shoes. Damn lucky.”
Fabianne murmured in protest to the threat, vaguely responding to the tone directed at her. Tears formed at the edge of her eyes, slowly dripping down her burning cheeks.
A sharp poke to the chest roused some sense into her. Irathea pressed into her ribs with her cold boot, rolling Fabianne onto her back.
Fabianne’s mouth contorted while the words stumbled atop one another in her head in a race to speak up. All that came out was a squawk Irathea cackled at.
“I think we’ve both learned a lot today, haven’t we? I get to do what I want, and you get to listen. ‘Cause that’s all you’ve been for me, a little toy... that I’ve found a new way to play with.”
Tears streamed down Fabianne’s face as the word “toy” echoed in her head. No respect, no acknowledgement, no kindness in it. Through the burning pain she rolled herself over again, onto her front, and pushed herself up onto trembling knees.
Irathea only watched with a smirk.
Fabianne stuttered a tearful apology as her voice was shuttered by her tight throat before sprinting out of Irathea’s room at full tilt. No longer concerned with the mess, or the formality of going back to her room to prepare another lesson, all that she could do was try to run from where her malfeasant hunger got the best of her.
The keep servants didn’t pay her any heed as she rushed through the halls, simply turning their noses at her messy appearance. Regardless of how common a visitor was to the keep, their dishonourable relief from the keep was only a matter of time when it came to Irathea.
When her lungs burned themselves to char, and her body was frozen through, and her feet were turning blue only then did Fabianne stop running. Escaping from the keep and the town was a blur, no attention given to where she was running, only that it was away.
She collapsed onto frost-covered dirt, hands gripping handfuls of her clothes, trying to tear into the fabric before hugging herself tight in a poor attempt to soothe herself of the humiliation. No tears came as she simpered and heaved on her knees, eyes having long dried out in the brisk evening air.
‘Aultes above, why..? Why do I have to be so sinful?’
Her thighs tightened in on one another as she curled into a ball, squeezing her resting penis between them. It twitched in response, stiffening a bit before shrinking back as cold took root.
In the pit of her despair and shame, she understood why Irathea and so many others found her so disgusting and deserving of derision.
“Aultes take pity on a sinner like me,” she whispered.
What happened should have been painful, and it definitely was humiliating. But even worse was that it had felt good to get off while thinking about the tiefling, whether she had wanted to or not. The ecstasy that built within Fabianne had taken over, the Malfeasance . DeRoux had been right about her, the servants’ shunning made sense, and Irathea’s… control was all deserved. All because she couldn’t keep that Aultes-damned thing in her pants after stumbling across some blue-skinned succubus in the woods.
She curled up as tight as she could, pretending not to feel the cold drape her in its shadow as night fell.
Snow was the first thing Fabianne noticed when she woke up. The sky had barely begun to glow with light. It was a light dusting, but snow was snow. She’d fallen over at some point in the night, as evidenced by how sore her right side was and how numb her left felt. A thin blanket of snow fell off her shoulder as she sat up.
The second thing Fabianne noticed was a combination of a dull, hollow feeling in her chest, and the painfully hot throb of her member. It was as if the thing was taunting her after last night, beckoning her to torment.
‘Just let it out, just feel yourself, lose yourself. Make yourself feel good, Fab.’
But good was the opposite of how Fabianne wanted to feel. The hole inside her took that desire and threw it away into its darkness. She just sat there and waited for her morning wood to fade away, feeling nothing as the sky gradually became lighter over the next few minutes.
Her ears flicked towards the sounds of life waking up, the chittering of squirrels and birdsong gradually pulling her into wakefulness. It was oddly relaxing. Fabianne had never really spent a night or a morning like this before, just listening to nature. Even with her large ears, more time was spent filtering things out that she didn’t want to hear than taking it all in. Which was probably why she hadn’t heard the demon before.
That thought struck a chord in her hollow chest.
‘That blue vision again? Repulsive sinner. Shameless whore.’ Fabianne shook her head and clapped her hands over her ears.
‘You can’t have that in your head, you have to repent, I have to-’
‘You want to be ravaged again. Like an animal. Desperate bitch.’
‘No! Aultes will never let me fall!’
Fabianne felt her tail brush something behind her. She seized up, waiting to be attacked by a beast, prodded, or ridiculed for sitting out in the cold like a fool.
“May my heart beat under your grace Lord Aultes, as I am your servant and your vessel,” she whispered the prayer under her breath and waited for judgement.
“Your tail is cold. It is unexpected we’d meet again so soon, Miss Fabianne.”
Daggers shot through the hole in her chest hearing the voice. She turned slowly, hardly breathing, and met the pair of wide, dazzling eyes that had stared her down only two days prior.
“Y-you’re… you’re not real.” She blubbered, before falling back in the snow with fear.
The horned creature kept her distance from Fabianne, only cocking her head to one side, unblinking as she replied, “Of course I am real. Are you ill from something?”
“I am sick! From YOU! ” Fabianne cried, before bolting off again into the trees.
The demon just stared after her.