by Kathryn Moon
One of the girls had run off stage, returning with a ladder which she hooked onto the ledge of the tank. She climbed up quickly, pausing every few steps to pose and shed a stocking or her slip until she straddled the ledge of the tank entirely naked. Along the bottom, unseen by the girls, the blue mass shifted again, something twisting revealing a paler underbelly, little round suction cups pulsing against the glass. The girl slid into the water bobbing and splashing down at her friends, and another made the trek up.
"What is it?" I breathed.
"Esther, are you all right?" Jonathon murmured, stroking my arms. I was stiff as I stared at the stage, my ankle throbbing in the memory of a grip tugging and dragging me.
"The grotto," Auguste said abruptly, sitting up and twisting me to face him. "I'm sorry, I didn't think of it. Do you want to step outside?"
But I was already turning to stare back. Two girls were already bobbing along the surface of the tank, another about to slide in and a fourth climbing the ladder.
"Esther."
"I think I'm fine," I said, although it was hard to catch my breath. But it wasn't only panic rushing through me. Maybe if I'd been in the water, it would've been too much, but I knew I was safe with Auguste and Jonathon, and I was too curious to turn away.
The fifth girl was standing outside of the tank, both of us watching the creature inside begin to wake, more suckers appearing, and a long tendril of blue climbing up along the glass.
"Too curious for her own good," Auguste said over my head, reading my own thoughts.
"We can step out at any time," Jonathon told me softly.
I nodded and repeated my question from before. "What is it?"
"An akkorokamui," Jonathon said. "Well, a descendant of. A Japanese sea god. They're uncommon in these parts, but a favorite at the houses in Japan. You'll see why."
The blue mass at the bottom was expanding, rising up the sides, more tendrils curling through the water, closer and closer to the bare toes treading water. The first one connected with a sudden snap, and I jumped in my seat, releasing a panicked giggle, as the girl screamed and was dragged underwater.
"The tentacles can expand and contract, and the suckers are said to be an improvement on a mouth," Auguste explained. "An octopus has eight. The akkorokamui has dozens."
Sure enough, the girl in the akkorokamui's grip was suddenly wrapped, blue tentacle twisting around her leg and her hips, over her breasts and up around her throat. She was thrust back up out of the water, shedding sparkling droplets, just as two more were ensnared.
The fourth girl made a sudden attempt to swim for the edge, climbing up, when a brilliant blue tendril of muscle and sucker leapt up from under the water, thrusting itself inside of her. Another appeared and squirmed its way inside of the wrapped-up captive, the pair of them crying out at once.
Within less than a minute, all four girls who'd been swimming were tangled up in the tentacles of the monster. The akkorokamui took turns lifting them out of the water, dragging the next one under, and every time, they were bound a little tighter. Around their legs, their wrists, their torsos, even sometimes their throats. One girl had a tentacle plunging gently into her mouth, ass, and cunt, held bent above the water, being slowly twisted and turned so we could see every intrusion.
The screams were quickly turning into moans and groans and occasional chants of praise or pleas for more. I was panting in sympathy, watching the muscles of the tentacles contract and relax.
Another girl was plastered to the glass, the tentacles banding in a fascinating crisscross pattern over her thighs and stomach, one draped over her sex, sucker no doubt caressing her clit, given her lusty cries of ecstasy.
"Jonathon."
"Mm?"
"I think we should take Esther to Japan."
"We'd never see her again."
I laughed a little at that. My doctor was probably not wrong. Of all the creatures I'd seen, this one terrified me the most and was by far the most exciting to me.
Outside of the tank, on the floor, the fifth girl had laid down, knees bent and spread wide. She was squeezing her own breasts, fucking herself with her fingers, and I wondered if the akkorokamui could see her tribute or if it was for her own enjoyment. I hoped he—or it, did it really matter?—was watching. I hoped it could see me too, panting and watching, my body calling to join the girls in the tank but my mind too terrified to dare move.
The akkorokamui was almost to the surface now, water churning in a spiral as it showed off its prizes of women, all writhing and singing in its grip. One screamed and stiffened, and was slowly lowered out of the tank and onto the stage floor, soggy and limp, the tentacles retreating slowly, revealing the red marks of binding and the white rounds of the sucker kisses.
Another was deposited at her climax, whimpering and reaching for the retreating tentacles. The third. The fourth.
But what about—
Five tentacles struck like lightning, snatching up the masturbating girl in their grip, her arms and legs spread in welcoming. She was tossed into the air, and when she came down into the water, she landed at the open heart of the akkorokamui, body spread like a gaping maw. The tentacles descended, body contracting, and her blissful cries rose into the air as the monster sank back to the bottom of the tank with her in its grip.
As if it were the final notes of a prima donna’s aria at the opera, the crowd jumped to its feet, hands clapping together, cries rejoicing the scene.
I fucking loved this theater.
I bounced on the balls of my feet, my hand in Jonathon's as we stood together behind the curtain of the stage.
"If you're nervous—"
"I'm excited," I said, leaning into his side, turning and resting my chin on his shoulder.
He answered with a kiss on my forehead and hummed softly for a moment. "So are we," he said, eyes glowing in the dark.
Auguste had run down backstage during intermission. I was one of two humans in the audience interested in being on stage for the final act, and Auguste had signed me up to go first as Jonathon held me in the box and explained what we'd do together. He offered constant reassurances that I could stop at any time, and I held my tongue through it all.
"And you know that—"
"If I want to stop an act I will say so or tap your thigh with my left foot. If I want to be off stage, I'll say so too," I recited, nipping the corner of his jaw. "I trust you, sir. Both of you. I want this."
Jonathon sighed, and on the other side of the curtain, the crowd began to hush and settle. "I worry you are too sweet to say no to us sometimes. And then you remind me that by some miracle, you are simply the woman who wants the same things we do. Even at our most depraved," he said, finishing with a chuckle.
I didn't get a chance to answer. Behind me, a massive man that I suspected was one of the were-bears based on his excessively luscious dark hair, called to us softly.
"House lights are going down."
"Good luck," Auguste whispered from farther back. "Have fun!"
Perhaps it was stage fright, or maybe I was even more excited than I'd realized, because for a moment, I couldn't breathe, my eyes fixed to the red glow of the spotlight on the curtain. Jonathon's fingers tightened around mine, and I turned to him, his gaze green and narrowed.
"Be a good girl for me," he said, words grinding with the promise of his other half.
A shiver ran down my spine, and I released a sigh as the stagehand began to pull the curtain open. "Yes, sir."
Jonathon stepped forward, his firm grip on my hand steadying me as he led me out to center stage.
An elaborate kind of seat waited for me there, something like a doctor's chair, but a little more upright in order to present me to the audience with a ledge for me to brace my feet against. There was a small table with a wooden box at the side, which Jonathon had already told me had his device inside.
I was in the nice dark blue shoes Auguste had picked out, and my now torn and soiled chemise, the corset still lac
ed over it. As Jonathon drew me into the spotlight, his own chin held high and shoulders straight—none of the shy and gentle doctor I knew so well—my mouth went dry. Heat flushed up my cheeks, my stomach turning suddenly.
Was this shame? Could I find the words to change my mind already and ask to return to the cool shadows of backstage?
My eyes skidded to my right, blind to the audience for a moment, and then slowly, their faces appeared behind the brilliant glare of the spotlight. Just the first few rows. But every pair of eyes was focused on me. Men and women with hungry gazes, strange creatures in the dark who gazed openly at my breasts, licked their lips, and leaned forward.
They wanted to watch me tortured and teased by my doctor. Wanted to see me come apart and cry out for more. This wasn't just about the thrill of watching a girl hunted by a beast or captured and forced into bliss. This performance was about a monster being accepted and desired by a human. Being able to touch and satisfy them.
Auguste had spent decades without a human lover he could feed from. Mr. Tanner was still too wary to let me look at him. Amon thought he had to buy my affection. Ezra expected he'd have to steal it.
My nerves evaporated as Jonathon guided me into place in front of the seat, stood behind me, his breath soft against the back of my neck, and raised my arms at my side as if we were in the middle of a physical examination.
In that moment, I was wanted not just by the man behind me or Auguste in the wings, but by every pair of eyes in the audience. I swayed a little with the force of it, the heady dizzy arousal that hit with just that one little thought.
"Ready?" Jonathon whispered in my ear.
I nodded, just a little, and his hand wrapped firmly around the back of my neck, turning me quickly, the fingers of his other hand ripping quickly through the laces of my corset to undress me.
My breath hiccuped, warmth pooling richly in my cunt. My eyes drifted to the wings, and my lips curled at the shadow of Auguste, watching and admiring me. The laces hissed and scratched as they were torn free, and I let out a moan that was almost sexual as I finally caught a full breath. There was a feminine sympathetic chuckle from the audience, and I flushed with pleasure at the reminder of the eyes watching me.
Jonathon tossed the corset to the floor and then quickly gathered up the hem of my chemise. "Hands up," he ordered, and my arms rose quickly over my head for him to drag the fabric up and off. "Very good. Step back." His hand on my hip steadied me as I wobbled. "Bend forward."
I wet my lips with my tongue, staring at the chair in front of me as I slowly bent, knowing what that would put on display for the theater, my cheeks flooded with heat.
"Farther," Jonathon said, his voice dark.
I swallowed and bent until my breasts touched the stocking silk on my legs and I could see the faces gazing at my bared sex. A warm hand cupped my ass, sliding down, and my eyes fell shut, a shuddering breath released as Jonathon ran his fingertips over the crease of my ass, all the way to my clit.
"Stand. Turn." Jonathon stepped in behind me, the texture of his shirt almost abrasive on my skin with how hyperaware of every touch I was. "Did I tell you to keep quiet?" he whispered in my ear.
His hands reached around me to cup and weigh my breasts, and I let my head fall back to his shoulder, an eager moan rising from my throat, turning into a strangled squeal as he pinched my nipples to sharp peaks.
"Spread your legs. Farther." He was all snap and command, impersonal, but I knew him, trusted him, and it was as if we were playing our roles. Him the professional doctor, and me the patient.
I whimpered, Jonathon cozy against my back as I stretched my legs wide. His hands stroked up and down over my stomach for a moment before reaching to spread the lips of my sex. One finger circled my clit as another plunged inside of me, and I cried out as loud as I wanted, hips rocking into the touch.
Crack!
"Ah!" I stiffened at the slap over my clit, eyes widening, audience laughing softly.
"Behave," Jonathon snarled, loud enough for the audience to hear.
I shuddered and tried to hold still as he began to touch again, my thighs shaking with the urge to buck and rock and beg for more.
"Good girl," he murmured before pulling away, fingers shining with my arousal. "Take your seat."
I shivered briefly, alone, under that stunningly brilliant spotlight, trying to catch my bearings, and then Jonathon swatted my ass, and I jumped, spinning and hurrying to the seat behind me. It was at a steep slant, but there was a small, cushioned seat and back for me to lean into and a ledge for my feet. Overhead, there were handholds which Jonathon had warned me I was probably going to want at some point.
I stepped up, his back to me as he opened the wooden box, and settled myself, spreading my legs wide and reaching to hold the handles loosely. My eyes were adjusting to the spotlight the longer I was on stage, making faces and features clearer, like the beautiful ice fair woman who was licking her lips as she stared at my exposed sex, or the two beastly men whose focus was on me while their hands were roving each other.
"There's a great deal of study regarding the therapeutic uses of electroshock therapy in our times. I myself am most fascinated in the involuntary spasms of human musculature in response to light stimulation," Jonathon said, voice raised and factual, the doctor at a lecture instead of a lover. "My subject today has no experience with electric stimulation. She is healthy, as you can see." Jonathon shot me a brief flicker of a smile at the soft growls rising from the front rows. "And she experiences no nervous complaints. She is merely a very deviant, naughty little girl. Aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," I said quickly, my own tone much more breathy.
Jonathon rewarded me with a bright grin before continuing to the audience. "With a delicate and highly regulated use of gentle stimulation, I can manipulate her body into spasms of pleasure with no other touch on my part."
I leaned my head back, closing my eyes against the spotlight and trying to regulate my breath. I'd loved Jonathon's vibrating machine, and while electricity sounded sort of cold and medical to me, I knew what he liked, which was having me coming and gushing for him in obscene frequency. Mr. Tanner demanded it too.
"You will feel a pinch," Jonathon said, stepping closer.
He held two thin brass sticks, with rounded tips, and wires running back to his box.
"For the shock to be applied, you must have two currents with opposite polarities running. The closer together they are applied, the more deeply the shock will be felt. To ensure the safety of the subject, shocks are kept at the shortest possible frequency and an extremely mild setting," Jonathon explained to our audience.
I'd already heard it all, and I wasn't sure that the monsters watching us were especially interested in the science. What it did do was keep me edgy with anticipation.
"Here to start, I think," Jonathon said, holding the wands above my belly, standing to the side so the theater could see. He caught my eye, waiting, and I nodded briefly. "Relax," he reminded me.
I released my breath, forcing myself to go limp, and he stepped in immediately.
The wands touched, only for the briefest moment and with the lightest touch, but that was all it took. I cried out, eyes widening. It was like being pricked with a needle, brief and sharp, but my stomach trembled, the shock trembling down into my hips and making me jerk. The pain was gone as soon as the wands were pulled away, but the wobbly weak feeling remained a moment longer.
I was gasping for air, more from the surprise of the sensation, when Jonathon stepped to my other side, cables brushing against my thigh as he did.
"You can leave one wand stationary and use the other like a caress," he said. He set one wand against the inside of my right thigh, and I flinched, letting out a nervous giggle of apology as nothing changed. Jonathon flashed a grin in answer and then ran the other wand quickly up the inside of my left thigh.
This time, there was no sound to my cry, just an arch of my body and the weak spasming of my leg
s, the tremors running up into my hips again, down to my knees.
I sagged back against the seat, my hands slipping around the handles, fingers wiggling to take a new grip.
"Do you like it?" Jonathon asked me, but loudly enough I knew he was doing more than checking in on me.
I swallowed, chest heaving as if I'd been running in a marathon. I would've taken the vibrator over these little wands any day, but I didn't hate it either. I just wasn't sure if this was pleasure I was feeling, or simply something interesting. But Jonathon would make sure I felt pleasure by the end, and then Mr. Tanner would drown me in it.
"I do, sir," I said, putting my feet back into position and rolling my shoulders to present my breasts.
Jonathon grinned at me, something dark and wicked in the curl of his mouth. "Oh, do you? And do you like it when I do this?"
He rested one wand to the tip of my breast, and my fingers tightened around the handles, eyes growing wide as he brought the other slowly closer. I released a tight breath and then yelped, the sound strangling as the second wand touched the other side of my nipple. This one was like a brief, sudden, stab. Like Auguste's fangs in my breast. It was gone just as quick, no ache behind but the memory, and my eyes met Jonathon's. His were narrowed in study, waiting and watching.
I leaned back against the firm cushion of the chair and took in another deep breath, my chest swelling. Jonathon's gaze warmed, and he set a wand to the other nipple, waiting for my exhale and nod before shocking me again.
This time, prepared and familiar with the sensation—as familiar as I could be with the sudden but brief loss of control over my own body—I tried to learn it more. The bite of pain, the ripple of nerve and muscle, the release and trembling that came after. Like a bite, the pain echoed into my cunt with a clench, and I realized that for all I was mentally undecided about the feeling, physically, I was absolutely on board. My thighs were slick already.
Jonathon noticed at the same time, setting aside a wand to twist my thigh to the side. "Dampness amplifies the sensation as well. I could turn down the force of the shock, or if the subject is comfortable with the amplification…" Jonathon trailed off, turning to me and mouthing 'your choice.'